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a little better. Then I began climbing, going from street to street. By the time I reached San Ruffino's I was tired, so I sat down on the marble lion that guards the entrance to the church, just exactly where you were sitting to beg when I came upon you this morning. I stroked the lion slowly with my palm and, reaching his mouth, found the tiny man that he is eating.

    "This frightened me. What is this lion? I asked myself. Why was he placed here to guard the church door? Eating a man as he is, who can he be: God? Satan? How can I know? Who can tell me whether he is God or Satan? Suddenly I felt a chasm to my right, a chasm to my left, and I was standing between the double abyss, on a piece of ground no wider than a footprint. I became dizzy. The World around me was whirling; my life was whirling. I uttered a cry: 'Is there no one to hear me? Am I all alone in the world? Where is God? Doesn't He hear; doesn't He have a hand to hold out over my head? I feel dizzy. I am going to fall!' "

    Francis had spread his arms wider and wider as he spoke: he was suffocating, unable to breathe. He had also raised his eyes and was now staring out through the window at the sky. I started to take hold of his hand in order to calm him, but he sprang back and growled in an agitated voice: "Leave me alone. I don't want to be soothed!" Then he rolled up in the corner of the bed, panting. His voice had grown hoarse:

    "I called, first God, then Satan, not caring which of the two would appear, just so I could feel I was no longer alone. Why had this fear of solitude come over me so suddenly? I was ready at that moment to surrender my soul to either of them. I didn't care which; all I wanted was to have a companion--not to be alone! And as I waited, gazing desperately at the heavens, I heard a voice--"

    He stopped, unable to catch his breath.

    "I heard a voice--" he repeated, the sweat suddenly beginning to run in thick drops over his face.

    "A voice?" I asked. "What voice, Francis? What did it say?"

    "I couldn't make out the words. No, it wasn't a voice; it was the bellowing of a wild beast--a lion. Could it have been the marble man-eating lion I was sitting on? . . . I jumped to my feet. The first sweet light of dawn had begun to shine. The voice was still rolling about within me, rebounding like peals of thunder from my heart to my kidneys, from one cavern of my bowels to another. The bells began to sound for matins. I continued on, headed for the heights of the citadel. Soon I was running, and while I was running, I found myself suddenly bathed in a cold sweat. I heard someone behind me calling: 'Where are you running, Francis? Where are you running, Francis? You cannot escape!' I turned, but saw no one. I began to run again. After a moment I heard the voice once more: 'Francis, Francis, is this why you were born--to sing, make merry, and entice the girls?'

    "This time I was too afraid to look behind me. I continued running in an effort to escape the voice. But then a stone in front of me began to shout: 'Francis, Francis, is this why you were born--to sing, make merry, and entice the girls?'

    "My hair stood on end. I ran and ran, but the voice ran with me. And then at last I understood clearly: the voice was not outside me. No matter how much I ran I would never escape it, because it came from within. Someone inside me was shouting. Not Bernardone's son, the libertine; no, not me, but someone else--someone inside me, better than me. Who? I don't know. How can I know? It was just someone else. . . .

    "Gasping for breath, I finally reached the citadel. At that very moment the sun emerged from behind the mountain, and it warmed me. The world about me grew light, and it too was warmed. Someone within me began to speak again, but this time very softly, in whispers, as though confiding some secret to me. I lowered my head upon my breast and listened. Father Leo, I swear to you I am telling the truth, the whole truth. 'Francis, Francis,' I