His friends probably understood nothing of all that had taken place, but he had become aware of the abyss that was opening between them and him.

They soon accepted the situation.
As for himself, no longer having any reason for caution, he gave himself up more than ever to his passion for solitude.

If he often wept over his past dissipations and wondered how he could have lived so long without tasting the bitterness of the dregs of the enchanted cup, he never allowed himself to be overwhelmed with vain regrets.
The poor had remained faithful to him.

They gave him an admiration of which he knew himself to be unworthy, yet which had for him an infinite sweetness.

The future grew bright to him in the light of their gratitude, of the timid, trembling affection which they dared not utter but which his heart revealed to him; this worship which he does not deserve to-day he will deserve to-morrow, at least he promises himself to do all he can to deserve it.
To understand these feelings one must understand the condition of the poor of a place like Assisi.