of Gonzaga--in whom I saw an
ideal to be emulated, since he seemed to me to be much in my own case
and of my own estate--who had counted the illusory greatness of this
world well lost so that he might win the bliss of Paradise. Similarly
did I take delight in the Life, written by Tommaso da Celano, of that
blessed son of Pietro Bernardone, the merchant of Assisi, that Francis
who became the Troubadour of the Lord and sang so sweetly the praises
of His Creation. My heart would swell within me and I would weep hot and
very bitter tears over the narrative of the early and sinful part of his
life, as we may weep to see a beloved brother beset by deadly perils.
And greater, hence, was the joy, the exultation, and finally the sweet
peace and comfort that I gathered from the tale of his conversion, of
his wondrous works, and of the Three Companions.

In these pages--so lively was my young imagination and so wrought
upon by what I read--I suffered with him again his agonies of hope, I
thrilled with some of the joy of his stupendous ecstasies, and I almost
envied him the signal mark of Heavenly grace that had imprinted the
stigmata upon his living body.

All that concerned him, too, I read: his Little Flowers, his Testament,
The Mirror of Perfection; but my greatest delight was derived from his
Song of the Creatures, which I learnt by heart.

Oftentimes since have I wondered and sought to determine whether it was
the piety of those lauds that charmed me spiritually, or an appeal to
my senses made by the beauty of the lines and the imagery which the
Assisian used in his writings.

Similarly I am at a loss to determine whether the pleasure I took in
reading of the joyous, perfumed life of that other stigmatized saint,
the blessed Catherine of Siena, was not a sensuous pleasure rather than
the soul-ecstasy I supposed it at the time.

And as I wept over the early sins of St. Francis, so too did I weep over
the rhapsodical Confessions of St. Augustine, that mighty theologian
after whom I had been named, and whose works--after those concerning St.
Francis--exerted a great influence upon me in those early days.

Thus did I grow in grace until Fra Gervasio, who watched me narrowly and
anxiously, seemed more at ease, setting aside the doubts that earlier
had tormented him lest I should be forced upon a life for which I had no
vocation. He grew more tender and loving towards me, as if something of
pity lurked within the strong affe