Night came down at last, and he was tired out. He came to an inn
and asked for shelter.

"I have no money," he told the landlord, smiling, "and I have no
claim upon you. Will you take me in?"

The landlord looked at him shrewdly a little, then said with respect:

"But what is your grace doing in such a garb?"

Stanislaus thought for a moment that he was recognized; but he put
on a bold front, and laughed as he said:

"I am not 'your grace. I am what you see me, and I have a long
journey to make."

In those days it was not unusual for even nobles to go, roughly
clad, upon pilgrimages of devotion. That Stanislaus was a noble,
the landlord was quite certain. That he might be engaged on some
such pious business, was possible. But who ever heard of a mere boy
going upon pilgrimage?

The whole affair puzzled the landlord more than a little. However,
the face of the boy reassured him. At least there could be no evil
behind that frank, brave countenance. So he shook his head, saying:

"I do not understand. But come in. You are welcome."

He gave Stanislaus his supper and a bed to sleep in.