than '_Our Father, who art
in heaven_.'"

A long murmur arose from the crowd when Bernardone was seen to gather up
and carry off the clothing without the least evidence of compassion,
while the bishop was fain to take under his mantle the poor Francis,
who was trembling with emotion and cold.[18]

The scene of the judgment hall made an immense impression; the ardor,
simplicity, and indignation of Francis had been so profound and sincere
that scoffers were disconcerted. On that day he won for himself a secret
sympathy in many souls. The populace loves such abrupt conversions, or
those which it considers such. Francis once again forced himself upon
the attention of his fellow-citizens with a power all the greater for
the contrast between his former and his new life.

There are pious folk whose modesty is shocked by the nudity of Francis;
but Italy is not Germany nor England, and the thirteenth century would
have been astonished indeed at the prudery of the Bollandists. The
incident is simply a new manifestation of Francis's character, with its
ingenuousness, its exaggerations, its longing to establish a complete
harmony, a literal correspondence, between words and actions.

After emotions such as he had just experienced he felt the need of being
alone, of realizing his joy, of singing the liberty he had finally
achieved along all the lines where once he had so deeply suffered, so
ardently struggled. He would not, therefore, return immediately to St.
Damian. Leaving the city by the nearest gate, he plunged into the
deserted paths which climb the sides of Mount Subasio.

It was the early spring. Here and there were still great drifts of snow,
but under the ardor of the March sun winter seemed to own itself
vanquished. In the midst of this mysterious and bewildering harmony the
heart of Francis felt a delicious thrill, all his being was calmed and
uplifted, the soul of things caressed him gently and shed upon him
peace. An unwonted happiness swept over him; he made the forest to
resound with his hymns of praise.

Men utter in song emotions too sweet or too deep to be expressed in
ordinary language, but unworded music is in this respect superior to
song, it is above all things the language of the ineffable. Song gains
almost the same value when the words are only there as a support for the
voice. The great beauty of the psalms and hymns of the Church lies in
the fact that being sung in an unknown tongue they make no app