So he went to Cardinal Commendoni. He figured hopefully that, as the Cardinal was the Pope's representative, he could easily impose his will on the Jesuit Provincial; and of course he would do so as his friend. Commendoni welcomed the boy, listened to him attentively, marvelled at his unaffected goodness and at the heavenly favors shown him. Stanislaus told him of the distressing obstinacy of the Provincial. "But how about your father?" the Cardinal asked. "Oh, my father is more hopeless than the Provincial," Stanislaus answered. "If I so much as mentioned the matter to him, he would bring me back to Poland, and I should have no chance at all." As Commendoni knew the Lord John pretty well, he said nothing to that. But he thought to himself that Stanislaus was fairly accurate in his forecast. After a moment's thought, he said: "You certainly have a right to follow your vocation. God's will comes before even your father's. But it is not going to be easy. However, I shall speak to the Father Provincial, and do what I can." Stanislaus went away with good hopes. He was to return in a few days to hear the result of Commendoni's plea. But when he came back to the Cardinal, he found only another disappointment. The Provincial not merely was as stubborn as ever, he had even won the Cardinal to his way of thinking. It was too risky to admit him, it was altogether unwise. Most boys might have given up after that. Stanislaus did not give up. He was quite sure of what God wanted, and difficulties simply did not count. lie was called to be a Jesuit, and a Jesuit he would be. If he could not gain admission into the Society in Vienna, well, he would try elsewhere. But even with his mind fairly made up, he sought more guidance. A young Portuguese Jesuit, Father Antoni, had lately come to Vienna as preacher to the Empress Maria. Every one was talking about his ability, his prudence, his zeal. Stanislaus went to him, and laid his troubles before him. Father Antoni took some little time to think it all over, then decided very definitely. He called Stanislaus to him. "Do you understand," he asked, "what it will mean to go away, to leave your people, to live in a strange country?" Stanislaus said, yes, he understood perfectly. "And that you are closing the door on your return, that in no case will you ever be received again at Kostkov?" Yes, Stanislaus knew that too. "And that you will have to go an immense journey on foot, with plenty of hardships; to find at the end of it a life that is not easy, to live at the beck and call of another, to do menial work, to endure humiliations, to sacrifice everything that the world holds. dear?" Stanislaus smiled at him. He had reckoned it all out, he had "counted the cost" long before, he was ready.