Virgin of the church at Pontesordo.

As the couple advanced, stillness fell on the church. The air was full
of the lingering haze of incense, through which the sunlight from the
clerestory poured in prismatic splendours on the statue of the Virgin.
Rigid, superhuman, a molten flamboyancy of gold and gems, the
wonder-working Madonna shone out above her worshippers. The Duke and
Duchess paused, bowing deeply, below the choir. Then they mounted the
steps and knelt before the shrine. As they did so a crash broke the
silence, and the startled devotees saw that the ducal diadem had fallen
from the Madonna's head.

The hush prolonged itself a moment; then a canon sprang forward to pick
up the crown, and with the movement a murmur rose and spread through the
church. The Duke's offering had fallen to the ground as he approached to
venerate the blessed image. That this was an omen no man could doubt. It
needed no augur to interpret it. The murmur, gathering force as it swept
through the packed aisles, passed from surprise to fear, from fear to a
deep hum of anger;--for the people understood, as plainly as though she
had spoken, that the Virgin of the Valseccas had cast from her the gift
of an unbeliever...

* * * * *

The ceremonies over, the long procession was formed again and set out
toward the city. The crowd had surged ahead, and when the Duke rode
through the gates the streets were already thronged. Moving slowly
between the compact mass of people he felt himself as closely observed
as on the day of his state entry; but with far different effect.
Enthusiasm had given way to a cold curiosity. The excitement of the
spectators had spent itself in the morning, and the sight of their
sovereign failed to rouse their flagging ardour. Now and then a cheer
broke out, but it died again without kindling another in the
uninflammable mass. Odo could not tell how much of this indifference was
due to a natural reaction from the emotions of the morning, how much to
his personal unpopularity, how much to the ominous impression produced
by the falling of the Virgin's crown. He rode between his people
oppressed by a sense of estrangement such as he had never known. He felt
himself shut off from them by an impassable barrier of superstition and
ignorance; and every effort to reach them was like the wrong turn in a
labyrinth, drawing him farther away from the issue to which it seemed to
lead.

As he advanced und