A few minutes later they stopped in front of the largest of a number of buildings which made up the university. On the way there Joseph had noted that almost every man they passed on the street had doffed his hat to Jan Kanty, and once a whole company of knights had saluted him with drawn swords. He seemed to pay but little attention to these courtesies, however, for his mind was busy with the problem of the present, and when he alighted from the cart and led the three to his little cell on the ground floor just at the right of the door, he was still pondering. Once inside the house, however, Pan Andrew, disregarding Joseph’s information for the minute, begged an immediate audience with Jan Kanty alone, and while the boy and his mother were eating some food which the scholar had placed upon a table in the corridor just outside his cell, he began to address his host in a low tone. Their voices buzzed as Joseph and his mother ate. Only once did the boy catch distinct syllables, and that was when the priest asked Pan Andrew, “That, then, is the pumpkin that you have brought from the Ukraine?” Pan Andrew must have nodded, for he made no verbal answer. He had not dropped the precious vegetable from his hands during the entire conversation. Joseph heard no more of the talk, for he began at that moment to tell his mother of his own adventures of the morning. As he progressed with his story she ceased eating and stared at him. “Why, this is a very miracle,” she said. “As soon as Pan Andrew has finished with the good father in the next room, we will go straight about procuring the lodging of which the scholar told you. . . . And the poor child—she lost her father and mother in the plague? Indeed, I think that God must have sent us to her.” Jan Kanty at the farther end of the cell listened to Pan Andrew’s tale to the very end. He asked a few questions which the other answered and then the two began to converse rapidly though in low tones. At length Jan Kanty passed his hand across his eyes as if thinking very deeply. Then he said, “It seems to me that there is one course open to you. You have enemies in the city, you believe, and therefore you must remain for the present unseen. I advise a change of name, for such subterfuge is no sin where the end to be gained is righteous. For your present needs you can obtain money by selling your horses and cart; if you wish I will send a man with them to the horse market in the plain below the Wawel. They would be but an encumbrance to you at best, and moreover they will bring a pretty price since they are of good stock and well fed.” “This money will not last me forever,” said Pan Andrew. “I must think of some employment besides.” “I have thought of that,” continued Jan Kanty. “I know of employment which might suit your case even though it be a humble task.” “It cannot be too humble for me,” answered the other quickly, “provided it brings enough return for the support of my wife and boy.”