improvement that
they could acquiesce in his desire to be taken back to Umbria. Toward
the middle of April they set out, going in the direction of Cortona. It
is the easiest route, and the delightful hermitage of that city was one
of the best ordered to permit of his taking some repose. He doubtless
remained there a very short time: he was in haste to see once more the
skies of his native country, Portiuncula, St. Damian, the Carceri, all
those paths and hamlets which one sees from the terraces of Assisi and
which recalled to him so many sweet memories.

Instead of going by the nearest road, they made a long circuit by Gubbio
and Nocera, to avoid Perugia, fearing some attempt of the inhabitants to
get possession of the Saint. Such a relic as the body of Francis lacked
little of the value of the sacred nail or the sacred lance.[16] Battles
were fought for less than that.

They made a short halt near Nocera, at the hermitage of Bagnara, on the
slopes of Monte-Pennino.[17] His companions were again very much
disturbed. The swelling which had shown itself in the lower limbs was
rapidly gaining the upper part of the body. The Assisans learned this,
and wishing to be prepared for whatever might happen sent their
men-at-arms to protect the Saint and hasten his return.

Bringing Francis back with them they stopped for food at the hamlet of
Balciano,[18] but in vain they begged the inhabitants to sell them
provisions. As the escort were confiding their discomfiture to the
friars, Francis, who knew these good peasants, said: "If you had asked
for food without offering to pay, you would have found all you wanted."

He was right, for, following his advice, they received for nothing all
that they desired.[19]

The arrival of the party at Assisi was hailed with frantic joy. This
time Francis's fellow-citizens were sure that the Saint was not going to
die somewhere else.[20]

Customs in this matter have changed too much for us to be able
thoroughly to comprehend the good fortune of possessing the body of a
saint. If you are ever so unlucky as to mention St. Andrew before an
inhabitant of Amalfi, you will immediately find him beginning to shout
"_Evviva San Andrea! Evviva San Andrea!_" Then with extraordinary
volubility he will relate to you the legend of the _Grande Protettore_,
his miracles past and present, those which he might have done if he had
chosen, but which he refrained from doing out of charity because St.
Januarius