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.