The exorcist, standing by the bed, took out his pocket ritual and the
stole which he put round his neck, then a reliquary, which he placed on
the bosom of the sleeping girl, and with the air of a saint he begged all
of us to fall on our knees and to pray, so that God should let him know
whether the patient was possessed or only labouring under a natural
disease. He kept us kneeling for half an hour, reading all the time in a
low tone of voice. Bettina did not stir.

Tired, I suppose, of the performance, he desired to speak privately with
Doctor Gozzi. They passed into the next room, out of which they emerged
after a quarter of an hour, brought back by a loud peal of laughter from
the mad girl, who, when she saw them, turned her back on them. Father
Mancia smiled, dipped the sprinkler over and over in the holy water, gave
us all a generous shower, and took his leave.

Doctor Gozzi told us that the exorcist would come again on the morrow,
and that he had promised to deliver Bettina within three hours if she
were truly possessed of the demon, but that he made no promise if it
should turn out to be a case of madness. The mother exclaimed that he
would surely deliver her, and she poured out her thanks to God for having
allowed her the grace of beholding a saint before her death.

The following day Bettina was in a fine frenzy. She began to utter the
most extravagant speeches that a poet could imagine, and did not stop
when the charming exorcist came into her room; he seemed to enjoy her
foolish talk for a few minutes, after which, having armed himself
'cap-a-pie', he begged us to withdraw. His order was obeyed instantly; we
left the chamber, and the door remained open. But what did it matter? Who
would have been bold enough to go in?