That was on the evening of Wednesday, the 10th. He appeared to be no better or worse on Thursday and Friday. But Friday evening he was moved from his ordinary room to a quieter place in a higher story of the house. Those who went with him noted that before he lay down, he knelt on the floor and prayed a while and made the sign of the cross over the bed, saying, "This is my deathbed."
Now they began to believe him and were frightened a little. So
Stanislaus added, with a smile, "I mean, of course, if it so please
God."
He continued in about the same condition until Sunday, August 14th.
That day he said to the laybrother who was taking care of him:
"Brother, I'm going to die to-night."
The brother laughed at him, and said:
"Nonsense, man! Why, it would take a greater miracle to die of so trifling a matter than to be cured of it."
But by noon of that day Stanislaus became unconscious. Father Fazio
was with him at once and administered restoratives. Very soon
Stanislaus was himself again, bright and smiling as ever. Father
Fazio began to joke with him.
"O man of little heart!" he said. "To give up courage in so slight a sickness!"
Stanislaus answered, "A man of little heart I admit I am. But the sickness, Father, is not so very slight, since I'm going to die of it."
And, indeed, he began to fail rapidly. By evening the death-sweat stood out upon him, the vital warmth little by little withdrew from hands and feet to the citadel of his heart. When the last light of day was gone from the sky, he made his confession and received the Holy Viaticum. A great many of his fellow-novices were present, and some wept. He was a good comrade, they did not want to see him depart from them.
Then he received Extreme Unction. He made the answers to the prayers himself. Afterward he confessed again, in order to receive the plenary indulgence granted for the hour of death. And after that he talked for a little time, kindly and cheerfully, to those about him, and bidding them good-by, turned his mind and his heart to heaven.