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A Little Hitch. A thunderous applause greeted the bishop. To show that there was no prejudice, tall, dark Monsignor Alibio Ruina announced that the Communist mayor of Bolsena, the little town nearby where the miracle had occurred, would be invited to the procession. The church, which had won the day, could afford to be generous.
But a hitch occurred when the vehicle that was to bear the reliquary to Rome arrived at Orvieto. It was an ordinary closed moving van. The people gathered in the plaza complained that this was not good enough for their relic. They muttered that the reliquary should be taken to Rome in a truck with a glass top and sides, so that all the countryside could see it and realize what a great sacrifice they, the people of Orvieto, had made.
Just as the crowd was working itself into a mood to stop the removal of the reliquary, a cloud drifted over Orvieto. Hail began to rattle down. Quickly, the people understood the sign: the hail would have shattered a glass-roofed truck. The closed truck was best. Maurizio Ravelli, who looks after the reliquary, had built into the truck a triple floor with springs and delicate silver pistons to ease the passage of the reliquary. Driven at 15 m.p.h. over roads strewn with scarlet poppy petals between rows of kneeling, weeping, praying people, the reliquary made its journey to Rome.
In the great Corpus Christi procession from St. Peter's Basilica Thursday of last week, before 300,000 onlookers, the corporal of Orvieto, carried aloft by robed, red-sashed Bohemian priests, moved just in front of Pius XII. It was observed that during the procession the Pope kept his eyes on the reliquary. The Communist mayor of Bolsena, wearing a tri-colored sash, was on hand.
Mayor Gregori of Orvieto was not present.