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The fact was, Bilinski and Paul were afraid of their Lutheran landlord, the Senator Kimberker. His anti-Catholic prejudice was intense. They feared he might put them, sick boy and all, out of his house, if they dared to bring a priest and the Blessed Sacrament into it. That was a hard trial for Stanislaus. But he met it as he had met every difficulty, bravely, hopefully, cheerfully.
Then Bilinski and Paul forgot their anger against the boy. They called in the best physicians of the city, they spared no pains or expense. The servants, who had always loved this gentle master, were all kindness and attention. But despite the efforts of all, Stanislaus became steadily worse. He was entirely at peace, not at all afraid. Yet he felt that death was coming near.
And as he trusted that boy and could scarcely help being loyal to him, he shrugged his shoulders and answered: "How should I know? So many travel this road." Then Bilinski described Stanislaus and his doublet of velvet and hose of silk and jeweled dagger. But at that the landlord shook his head in denial. "I have seen no such person as your graces describe," he said.
Bilinski called out to the coachman: "Drive on. We have nothing to learn here." But Paul said: "NQ let us turn back. He cannot have walked this far in one day. We must have passed him on the road." "Perhaps you could not have walked so far," said Bilinski, with a sneer. "But Stanislaus could. Drive on!"
But Paul had been thinking of the young fellow who took to the lane when he saw the carriage approach and a shrewd suspicion came into his head. "Did you see that boy who ran up the lane?" he cried at length to Bilinski. "I believe it was Stanislaus." "But he was dressed like a peasant," said Bilinski. "And Stanislaus had on a handsome suit." They debated for a time, but Paul prevailed.
Stanislaus had lived in that city about three years with his brother Paul, who was about a year older than he, and in the care of a tutor, a young man named Bilinski. He had left them in the early morning. As the day wore on and he did not return home, they became uneasy. They went about all afternoon, inquiring amongst their friends and acquaintance if any had seen him.
"We can do no more," they said, "the end is now only a question of time." For seven days and nights Bilinski sat by his bed, snatching only a few hours' sleep now and then, for he feared that Stanislaus might die any moment. Yet in all this long time they had brought no priest to the dying boy. Every day he begged them earnestly that he might receive the Holy Viaticum. But they lied to him.
Before I left I received a friendly letter from Prince Lubomirski, with a bill for a hundred ducats, in payment of fifty copies of my book. The prince had become lord high marshal on the death of Count Bilinski. When I got to Turin I found a letter from the noble Venetian M. Girolamo Zulian, the same that had given me an introduction to Mocenigo.
Stanislaus all the time had lain quiet, his face smiling as ever, his lips moving in prayer. Suddenly he turned to Bilinski, radiant, glowing with joy. "Kneel down, kneel down!" he said, in a clear but low voice. "Two angels of God are bringing the Blessed Sacrament, and with them comes Saint Barbara!"
Bilinski and Paul often laughed at him, for they were of a different stamp. But he did not mind their ridicule, and he bore them no grudge for it. And so, after. many days, they came at length to Vienna, on July 26, 1564. Vienna WAS a great city, even in those days, since for a long time it had been the residence of the Roman Emperors of the West.
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