ks, finds; he who asks, receives; and
to him who knocks, it shall be opened."

When he came out after long hours of seclusion the pallor of his
countenance, the painful tension of his features told plainly enough of
the intensity of his asking and the violence of his knocks.[11]

The inward man, to borrow the language of the mystics, was not yet
formed in him, but it needed only the occasion to bring about the final
break with the past. The occasion soon presented itself.

His friends were making continual efforts to induce him to take up his
old habits again. One day he invited them all to a sumptuous banquet.
They thought they had conquered, and as in old times they proclaimed him
king of the revels. The feast was prolonged far into the night, and at
its close the guests rushed out into the streets, which they filled with
song and uproar. Suddenly they perceived that Francis was no longer with
them. After long searching they at last discovered him far behind them,
still holding in his hand his sceptre of king of misrule, but plunged in
so profound a revery that he seemed to be riveted to the ground and
unconscious of all that was going on.

"What is the matter with you?" they cried, bustling about him as if to
awaken him.

"Don't you see that he is thinking of taking a wife?" said one.

"Yes," answered Francis, arousing himself and looking at them with a
smile which they did not recognize. "I am thinking of taking a wife
more beautiful, more rich, more pure than you could ever imagine."[12]

This reply marks a decisive stage in his inner life. By it he cut the
last links which bound him to trivial pleasures. It remains for us to
see through what struggles he was to give himself to God, after having
torn himself free from the world. His friends probably understood
nothing of all that had taken place, but he had become aware of the
abyss that was opening between them and him. They soon accepted the
situation.

As for himself, no longer having any reason for caution, he gave himself
up more than ever to his passion for solitude. If he often wept over his
past dissipations and wondered how he could have lived so long without
tasting the bitterness of the dregs of the enchanted cup, he never
allowed himself to be overwhelmed with vain regrets.

The poor had remained faithful to him. They gave him an admiration of
which he knew himself to be unworthy, yet which had for him an infinite
sweetness. The future grew br