water to
the convent from the well of San Sisto. Now he is at Rieti, where he
consents to remain with Cardinal Nicholas, bringing to every meal the
bread which he had earned, notwithstanding the entreaties of the master
of the house, who would gladly have provided for his wants. One day it
rained so hard that Brother Egidio could not think of going out; the
cardinal was already making merry over the thought that he would be
forced to accept bread that he had not earned. But Egidio went to the
kitchen, and finding that it needed cleaning he persuaded the cook to
let him sweep it, and returned triumphant with the bread he had earned,
which he ate at the cardinal's table.[6]

From the very beginning Egidio's life commanded respect; it was at once
so original, so gay, so spiritual,[7] and so mystical, that even in
the least exact and most expanded accounts his legend has remained
almost free from all addition. He is, after St. Francis, the finest
incarnation of the Franciscan spirit.

The incidents which are here cited are all, so to speak, illustrations
of the Rule; in fact there is nothing more explicit than its commands
with respect to work.

The Brothers, after entering upon the Order, were to continue to
exercise the calling which they had when in the world, and if they had
none they were to learn one. For payment they were to accept only the
food that was necessary for them, but in case that was insufficient they
might beg. In addition they were naturally permitted to own the
instruments of their calling.[8] Brother Ginepro, whose acquaintance
we shall make further on, had an awl, and gained his bread wherever he
went by mending shoes, and we see St. Clara working even on her
death-bed.

This obligation to work with the hands merits all the more to be brought
into the light, because it was destined hardly to survive St. Francis,
and because to it is due in part the original character of the first
generation of the Order. Yet this was not the real reason for the being
of the Brothers Minor. Their mission consisted above all in being the
spouses of Poverty.

Terrified by the ecclesiastical disorders of the time, haunted by
painful memories of his past life, Francis saw in money the special
instrument of the devil; in moments of excitement he went so far as to
execrate it, as if there had been in the metal itself a sort of magical
power and secret curse. Money was truly for him the sacrament of evil.

This is not