My padrona di casa told me an anecdote in illustration of this materialism of the Neapolitans, which the Asisinati are anxious not to be thought to share:  On the first of August several years before, she said, when the church of St. Francis was full of people waiting around the confessionals, a man at one of them was observed to be disputing with the priest inside.  Pressed so closely as they were, many might excuse themselves for being aware that the penitent was refusing to agree to the penance imposed by the priest, who consequently declined to give him absolution.  The priest cut the dispute short by closing the wicket and addressing himself to the penitent at the other side.  The man left his place and wandered disconsolately about the church, followed by many curious eyes, for not to listen in silent submission to the penance imposed by the priest is a rare scandal.  After a while he seemed to have resolved on a compromise, but it was no longer possible to obtain his place in advance of the crowd, where each one waited his turn.  He took a post, therefore, directly opposite the front of the confessional, as near as he could get, but with half the width of the nave between, and waited till the priest should be visible.  The moment came when the confessor, turning from one penitent to another, was seen from the front.  The man leaned eagerly forward, and throwing out his right hand with three fingers extended, as if playing morra, called out, “Quello del casotiello, volete farlo per tre?” ("You in the confessional there, will you do it for three?”) (These peasants call the confessional casotiello.) Whether the bargain related to a number of prayers to be said, a number of visits or of masses, does not concern us.

The next afternoon we went down to Santa Maria degli Angeli in the plain, the very penetralia of the Pardon.  Those who have visited this church know that the little chapel of the Porziuncola, which is enclosed in its midst like the heart in a body, has two doors—­one at the lower end, the other at the upper right corner.  It is very dim except when its altar is blazing with candles and its hanging lamps lighted.  As we have already said, a visit to this chapel or merely passing through it, for a person who has confessed, satisfies the outward conditions of the Pardon.

In the gran ruota which we were about to witness the Neapolitans entered in an unbroken line at the lower door, passed out without stopping at the upper, ran down the side-aisle of the church and out of the door, in again at the great door, up the nave, and again through the chapel, repeating this over and over for fifteen or twenty minutes.  While they make the wheel no one else enters the chapel:  all are spectators.