Chap­ter X – For Greater Things recounts a deci­sive moment in Stanis­laus Kostka’s life when inner strength tri­umphs over fear. No longer able to endure the cru­el­ty of his broth­er Paul, Stanis­laus reach­es a break­ing point. Unlike ear­li­er times, when he would absorb the blows in silence, he now choos­es to act—not in anger, but with clar­i­ty and pur­pose. Deter­mined to escape the tox­ic envi­ron­ment, he qui­et­ly arranges for his jour­ney, obtain­ing a coarse peasant’s tunic and stur­dy shoes to blend in as he trav­els on foot. This out­ward change mir­rors the inward transformation—a young man no longer bound by fear, but led by con­vic­tion. His plan isn’t born from rebel­lion, but from a yearn­ing to fol­low his voca­tion freely.

When Paul’s tem­per flares once more over a triv­ial issue, Stanis­laus responds not with sub­mis­sion but with firm resis­tance. Calm­ly but bold­ly, he declares his refusal to be treat­ed with dis­re­spect any longer. Paul, unpre­pared for such com­po­sure and courage, is stunned. His blus­ter fades as he real­izes the author­i­ty now radi­at­ing from the younger broth­er he once belit­tled. Stanis­laus informs him plain­ly that he will leave and seek peace else­where. The dec­la­ra­tion is not theatrical—it is delib­er­ate, res­olute. He sug­gests Paul write to their father with the truth, accept­ing what­ev­er con­se­quences may fol­low. This moment marks a shift not just in Stanislaus’s jour­ney, but in his sense of iden­ti­ty. No longer a pas­sive vic­tim, he becomes a young man choos­ing spir­i­tu­al integri­ty over fam­i­ly con­trol.

That night, peace set­tles over him. He sleeps calm­ly, hav­ing made his choice. Before dawn, he dress­es in his finest garments—not to impress, but to make a clean and respect­ful exit. He writes a let­ter explain­ing his deci­sion, then wakes Paci­fi­ci, a trust­ed ser­vant, and entrusts him with the mes­sage. Stanis­laus gives clear instruc­tions: say noth­ing of his route, but speak the truth about his depar­ture. His tone is gen­tle, not secre­tive. Before leav­ing the city, he walks to the Jesuit church, where he attends Mass and receives Holy Com­mu­nion. This act, per­formed with devo­tion, sanc­ti­fies his jour­ney before a sin­gle step is tak­en. It is a farewell and a beginning—a sym­bol of leav­ing behind not just a home, but a life that could no longer hold him.

The walk ahead is long, uncer­tain, and dan­ger­ous. But Stanis­laus does not hes­i­tate. Each step away from Vien­na is a step clos­er to freedom—not polit­i­cal or per­son­al, but spir­i­tu­al. He car­ries no wealth, no world­ly pro­tec­tion, only a deep trust in God. His depar­ture, while painful, is also cleans­ing. No longer defined by his brother’s anger or his father’s expec­ta­tions, he is now guid­ed by a divine call. This moment of escape is not a retreat—it is an act of faith, a rejec­tion of all that hin­dered his soul’s growth. His courage lies not in strength, but in sur­ren­der­ing his future to a high­er will.

Along the way, he is met with sus­pi­cion and hard­ship. He eats spar­ing­ly and sleeps out­doors, endur­ing dis­com­fort with­out com­plaint. Passers­by offer lit­tle help, yet Stanis­laus con­tin­ues. He avoids famil­iar routes and known faces, deter­mined not to be tracked. His pil­grim­age becomes a test of both body and spir­it. Yet, through­out, his demeanor remains steady—unafraid, unshak­en. He sees every obsta­cle as part of the path God has laid before him. Even exhaus­tion does not dim his joy. With each vil­lage he pass­es, he comes clos­er to Augs­burg, where he hopes to find sanc­tu­ary with the Jesuits.

What this chap­ter ulti­mate­ly reveals is not just a flight from dan­ger, but a pro­found com­mit­ment to one’s call­ing. Stanis­laus’s deci­sion to leave is not an escape from fam­i­ly, but a step toward spir­i­tu­al pur­pose. He acts with­out resent­ment, but with firm resolve to serve some­thing greater than him­self. His silent prayer as he leaves Vien­na speaks volumes—an offer­ing of his jour­ney, his future, and his pain to God. In choos­ing faith over fear, Stanis­laus shows that the path to sanc­ti­ty often begins with the courage to walk away from what is safe and known. His sto­ry chal­lenges us to ask: what are we will­ing to leave behind in pur­suit of some­thing greater?