"But the Blessed Virgin will take care of the whole business, Father," said Stanislaus. "She will quiet any opposition my father may make."

Well, the Provincial was willing to believe that too. But he knew that G.o.d wants us to use our own common sense and not to act rashly and then rely upon Him, or upon our Lady's intercession with Him, to get us out of sc.r.a.pes. So he had to give the only answer which prudence could give, to all Stanislaus' pet.i.tions.

"You must either get your father's permission, or you must wait until you are of age and your own master."

Now, Stanislaus was quite certain his father would not hear for a moment of his becoming a Jesuit. On the other hand, he did not want to wait four or five years until he should come of age. He had that peculiar courage, which many people cannot understand at all, the courage to be afraid. He was very much afraid, afraid to trifle with G.o.d's grace, afraid lest if he did not take the favor now when it was offered him, it might not be offered another time.

He thought of another means of persuading the Provincial. The Apostolic Legate of Pope Saint Pius V to the court of the Emperor at Vienna was Cardinal Commendoni. This Cardinal had been Nuncio, and afterwards Legate, to Poland, and had come from Poland only a year or so before. He was well acquainted with the Lord John Kostka and with Stanislaus. When he came to Vienna, Paul and Stanislaus had visited him, and Stanislaus had made the Cardinal, as he did most people, his friend.

So he went to Cardinal Commendoni. He figured hopefully that, as the Cardinal was the Pope's representative, he could easily impose his will on the Jesuit Provincial; and of course he would do so as his friend.

Commendoni welcomed the boy, listened to him attentively, marvelled at his unaffected goodness and at the heavenly favors shown him.

Stanislaus told him of the distressing obstinacy of the Provincial.

"But how about your father?" the Cardinal asked.

"Oh, my father is more hopeless than the Provincial," Stanislaus answered. "If I so much as mentioned the matter to him, he would bring me back to Poland, and I should have no chance at all."

As Commendoni knew the Lord John pretty well, he said nothing to that. But he thought to himself that Stanislaus was fairly accurate in his forecast.

After a moment's thought, he said:

"You certainly have a right to follow your vocation. G.o.d's will comes before even your father's. But it is not going to be easy.

However, I shall speak to the Father Provincial, and do what I can."

Stanislaus went away with good hopes. He was to return in a few days to hear the result of Commendoni's plea. But when he came back to the Cardinal, he found only another disappointment. The Provincial not merely was as stubborn as ever, he had even won the Cardinal to his way of thinking. It was too risky to admit him, it was altogether unwise.

Most boys might have given up after that. Stanislaus did not give up. He was quite sure of what G.o.d wanted, and difficulties simply did not count. lie was called to be a Jesuit, and a Jesuit he would be. If he could not gain admission into the Society in Vienna, well, he would try elsewhere.

But even with his mind fairly made up, he sought more guidance. A young Portuguese Jesuit, Father Antoni, had lately come to Vienna as preacher to the Empress Maria. Every one was talking about his ability, his prudence, his zeal. Stanislaus went to him, and laid his troubles before him.

Father Antoni took some little time to think it all over, then decided very definitely. He called Stanislaus to him.

"Do you understand," he asked, "what it will mean to go away, to leave your people, to live in a strange country?"

Stanislaus said, yes, he understood perfectly.

"And that you are closing the door on your return, that in no case will you ever be received again at Kostkov?"

Yes, Stanislaus knew that too.

"And that you will have to go an immense journey on foot, with plenty of hardships; to find at the end of it a life that is not easy, to live at the beck and call of another, to do menial work, to endure humiliations, to sacrifice everything that the world holds.

dear?"

Stanislaus smiled at him. He had reckoned it all out, he had "counted the cost" long before, he was ready.

Then, in G.o.d's name, go! " said Father Antonie "And may G.o.d be with you in all. I'll give you letters to Father Canisius, the Provincial in Augsburg, and to Father Francis Borgia, the General, who is in Rome."

Then Stanislaus was happy. At last he was in a fair way to obey the command of G.o.d, which our Lady herself had brought him. Father Antoni spoke with him longer, pointed out in detail many of the difficulties that awaited him, gave him counsel for the road. Then he went to write the letters of introduction, and Stanislaus went back to Paul and Bilinski and their blows and sneers, to get ready for his tramp.

CHAPTER X

THE RUNAWAY

He was going to run away. But he was not going to sneak away. He was just as kind and forgiving to Paul as he had always been. He bore him no ill-will for his three years of abuse, now that he had determined upon a course of action, which would free him from a continuance of it. He had often felt angry over Paul's treatment of him, but he had kept down his anger under his vigorous will.

But now he made up his mind that Paul would receive something of a shock the next time he had resort to his now almost habitual amus.e.m.e.nt of beating his younger brother. Meantime, he bought a peasant's tunic and a pair of rough shoes that would be serviceable for his long march.

It was not long before something or other Stanislaus did or said woke Paul's easily aroused rage. He began with oaths, of which he seemed to possess a pretty stock. He worked himself up into greater and greater heat of temper - a subst.i.tute for courage with many people. Finally he sprang at Stanislaus. Formerly, on such occasions Stanislaus was so busy holding his own temper in check that he could do little else, he stood almost like a statue. But this time Paul felt there was something wrong. Stanislaus was looking straight at him. When he leaped to strike him, Stanislaus quietly and skillfully thrust him aside. Paul stumbled, staggered, recovered himself. But when he looked again, fear took hold of him.

He was afraid of what he saw in Stanislaus' eyes. The younger boy spoke quietly, coolly.

"That will be about enough," he said; "I've put up with your cowardice and brutality for three years. I'll stand it no longer.

Since I cannot have peace here, well,. I'll look for it somewhere else. You can answer to our father, and tell him how it happened."

Paul was still frightened. The situation was extremely novel to him.

The turning of the worm! What would happen next! He was afraid at first that Stanislaus was going to give him his long-due payment, and he had no stomach to face the reckoning. He had not noticed before how wiry and strong Stanislaus looked. But when he saw that the boy made no movement, only spoke in that quiet voice, he plucked up a little courage. He began to bl.u.s.ter and swear.

"You'll go away, will you?" he cried. "What the devil do I care? Go, and be hanged to you!" - that was the gist of it, only a trifle more ornamental.

"Don't forget! " said Stanislaus. " Send word to father. I'm certainly going away."

Paul was waxing eloquent again, but Stanislaus turned on his heel and walked away. Nor did the bullying big brother venture to follow him. He contented himself with calling him hard names which he could not hear, and muttering savagely to himself for some time. But, naturally, he did not believe at all that Stanislaus was really going to run away9 He looked upon the words as an empty threat.

And so it was all over. Stanislaus sighed a sigh of relief. There was nothing ahead of him now save the road to Augsburg. He said his prayers tranquilly and went to bed.

Morning came, or the dawn that precedes the morning. Stanislaus got up, selected his finest suit of clothes, and dressed. His first care was to write the letter for Paul and his father. This he put between the leaves of a book.

The servants, of course, even in the primitive housekeeping of the Kostkas, slept in another room than the big common apartment of their masters. Stanislaus went to the bed of one of them, named Pacifici, who was rather particularly devoted to him, and who afterwards became a Franciscan. He shook Pacifici and woke him. The servant rubbed his eyes sleepily, then gazed in astonishment at the brilliant figure standing in the half-light beside his bed. What was the Lord Stanislaus doing, dressed in this unusual finery, at such an unearthly hour!

"Listen," said Stanislaus, "I am going out for the day. I have received an invitation which I must accept. I am going now. If Bilinski or the Lord Paul ask for me, tell them that."

"I will, your grace, I will," said Pacifici. But he was almost too astonished to speak.

Stanislaus left the room and the house. He walked quickly to the Jesuit church, where he heard Ma.s.s and received Holy Communion. At Ma.s.s he met a young Hungarian, with whom he had been very intimate.

He beckoned him aside and whispered:

"Wait for me a minute. I just want to say a word to Father Antoni."

Then he hurried away, but was back shortly at his friend's side, eyes dancing, lips smiling, hand outstretched.

"I have just bid Father Antoni good-by," he said, with a little excitement. "I am running away. I am going to Augsburg' to ask admission into the Society of Jesus. I told Paul yesterday that I should not stay with him, and I have written a letter and put it in a book. Do not tell any one what I tell you now. But after a few days, please go and point out the letter to Paul."

His friend listened with wonder. Going away!' Going to Augsburg!

"But how?" he asked. "Not on foot?"

"On foot, to be sure," answered Stanislaus gayly. "Do you think I have a horse secreted about me? Or could I take one of ours and wake the house?"