have nothing to do with his actions," and utterly refused to have anything further to do with the case.

CHAPTER IV.

Victory Without and Within.

Pietro was not avaricious. He cared nothing for the money as money. His plan now was to cut off all supplies, and when his son, who had always been accustomed to the daintiest and softest of living, and was in no way inured to hardship, found that he was now literally a beggar, he would, after a little privation, come to his senses, and sue his father for pardon. This was his idea when he sought the bishop and made his complaint to him. The bishop called Francis to appear before him.

On the appointed day he appeared with his father. The venerable bishop, who was a man of great good sense and wisdom, heard all there was to hear, and then turning to the young man, he said—

"My son, thy father is greatly incensed against thee. If thou desirest to consecrate thyself to God, restore to him all that is his."

He went on to say that the money was not really Francis', and therefore he had no right to give away what was not his, besides God would never accept money that was an occasion of sin between father and son. Then Francis rose and said—

"My lord, I will give back everything to my father, even the clothes I have had from him!"

Returning into a neighbouring room, he stripped off all his rich garments, and clad only in a hair under-garment, laid them and the purse of money at his father's feet.

"Now," he cried, "I have but one father, henceforth I can say in all truth "Our Father who art in Heaven!"

There was a moment of dead silence. Everybody present was too astonished to speak, then Pietro gathered up the garments and money, and withdrew. A murmur of pity swept through the crowd as they looked at the young man standing half-naked before the tribunal. But no sentiments of pity stirred Pietro. Easy and good-natured when things went according to his liking, he was equally hard and unbending if his will was crossed. It was to him a rude awakening out of a glorious, golden dream, and from his standpoint life looked hard.

When Pietro departed the old bishop threw his own mantle round the young man's shoulders, and sent out for some suitable garment. Nothing, however, was forthcoming except a peasant's cloak belonging to one of the gardeners. This Francis gladly put on and passed out of the bishop's hall—a homeless wanderer on the face of the earth.

He was not inclined to return to St. Damian's at once. He desired solitude, so he plunged into the woods. As he travelled he sang with all his might praises to God in the French tongue. His singing attracted the notice of some robbers who were hidden in the fastness of the woods. They sprang out and seized him, demanding—

"Who are you?"

Francis always courteous replied,

"I am the herald of the Great King. But what does that concern you?"

The robbers laughed at him for a madman, and after they had made game of him for a time, they tore his garment from his back, and tossing him into a deep ditch where a quantity of snow still lay, they made off crying,

"Lie there, you poor herald of the Good God!"

When they had disappeared Francis scrambled out stiff with cold and clad only in his one garment, and went on his way singing as before.