He’d juggled sticks, plates, clubs, rings, and burning torches. He’d set out with a group of traveling players. Giovanni had come a long way from his youth in Sorrento, sleeping in doorways and juggling fruits and vegetables to earn bowls of soup from Signor Baptista’s wife. The sacrilege was nothing more than Giovanni, the juggler, performing for the Holy Child, offering his humble gift to Jesus. What do you suppose it could be that would send the Sexton running? Was the chapel being damaged, the statue defaced? Was a villager committing some reprehensible sin inside the very walls of the church? Something appalling is taking place at the altar in the monastery chapel in Sorrento, right in front of the statue of Mary and Jesus. “A sacrilege,” the Brother Sexton cries out.
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