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.

[Sidenote: _One Father._]

"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.

[Sidenote: _Kitchen Assistant._]

Happily his wanderings speedily brought him to a monas