People quarrelled not only over his clothing, but even over his hair and the parings of his nails.[3] Did these merely exterior demonstrations disgust him?
Did he sometimes think of the contrast between these honors offered to his body, which he picturesquely called Brother Ass, and the subversion of his ideal?
We cannot tell.

If he had feelings of this kind those who surrounded him were not the men to understand them, and it would be idle to expect any expression of them from his pen.
Soon after he had a relapse, and asked to be removed to Monte-Colombo,[4] a hermitage an hour distant from the city, hidden amidst trees and scattered rocks.

He had already retired thither several times, notably when he was preparing the Rule of 1223.
The doctors, having exhausted the therapeutic arsenal of the time, decided to resort to cauterization; it was decided to draw a rod of white-hot iron across his forehead.
When the poor patient saw them bringing in the brazier and the instruments he had a moment of terror; but immediately making the sign of the cross over the glowing iron, "Brother fire," he said, "you are beautiful above all creatures; be favorable to me in this hour; you know how much I have always loved you; be then courteous to-day." Afterward, when his companions, who had not had the courage to remain, came back he said to them, smiling, "Oh, cowardly folk, why did you go away?
I felt no pain.

Brother doctor, if it is necessary you may do it again." This experiment was no more successful than the other remedies.

In vain they quickened the wound on the forehead, by applying plasters, salves, and even by making incisions in it; the only result was to increase the pains of the sufferer.[5] One day, at Rieti, whither he had again been carried, he thought that a little music would relieve his pain.