Homo Sum — Complete

  CHAPTER XII.

  The path of every star is fixed and limited, every plant bears flowersand fruit which in form and color exactly resemble their kind, and inall the fundamental characteristics of their qualities and dispositions,of their instinctive bent and external impulse, all animals of the samespecies resemble each other; thus, the hunter who knows the red-deer inhis father's forest, may know in every forest on earth how the stag willbehave in any given case. The better a genus is fitted for variabilityin the conformation of its individuals, the higher is the rank itis entitled to hold in the graduated series of creatures capable ofdevelopment; and it is precisely that wonderful many-sidedness of hisinner life, and of its outward manifestation, which assigns to man hissuperiority over all other animated beings.

  Some few of our qualities and activities can be fitly symbolized inallegorical fashion by animals; thus, courage finds an emblem in thelion, gentleness in the dove, but the perfect human form has satisfieda thousand generations, and will satisfy a thousand more, when we desireto reduce the divinity to a sensible image, for, in truth, our heartis as surely capable of comprehending "God in us,"--that is in ourfeelings--as our intellect is capable of comprehending His outwardmanifestation in the universe.

  Every characteristic of every finite being is to be found again in man,and no characteristic that we can attribute to the Most High is foreignto our own soul, which, in like manner, is infinite and immeasurable,for it can extend its investigating feelers to the very utmost boundaryof space and time. Hence, the roads which are open to the soul, arenumberless as those of the divinity. Often they seem strange, but theinitiated very well know that these roads are in accordance to fixedlaws, and that even the most exceptional emotions of the soul may betraced back to causes which were capable of giving rise to them and tono others.

  Blows hurt, disgrace is a burden, and unjust punishment embitters theheart, but Paulus' soul had sought and found a way to which these simplepropositions did not apply.

  He had been ill-used and contemned, and, though perfectly innocent, erehe left the oasis he was condemned to the severest penance. As soon asthe bishop had heard from Petrus of all that had happened in hishouse, he had sent for Paulus, and as he could answer nothing to theaccusation, he had expelled him from his flock--to which the anchoritesbelonged--forbidden him to visit the church on week-days, and declaredthat this his sentence should be publicly proclaimed before theassembled congregation of the believers.

  And how did this affect Paulus as he climbed the mountain, lonely andproscribed?

  A fisherman from the little seaport of Pharan, who met him half-way andexchanged a greeting with him, thought to himself as he looked afterhim, "The great graybeard looks as happy as if he had found a treasure."Then he walked on into the valley with his scaly wares, reminded, as hewent, of his son's expression of face when his wife bore him his firstlittle one.

  Near the watch-tower at the edge of the defile, a party of anchoriteswere piling some stones together. They had already heard of the bishop'ssentence on Paulus, the sinner, and they gave him no greeting. Heobserved it and was silent, but when they could no longer see himhe laughed to himself and muttered, while he rubbed a weal that thecenturion's whip had left upon his back, "If they think that a Gaul'scudgel has a pleasant flavor they are mistaken, however I would notexchange it for a skin of Anthyllan wine; and if they could only knowthat at least one of the stripes which torments me is due to each one ofthemselves, they would be surprised! But away with pride! How they spaton Thee, Jesus my Lord, and who am I, and how mildly have they dealtwith me, when I for once have taken on my back another's stripes. Not adrop of blood was drawn! I wish the old man had hit harder!"

  He walked cheerfully forward, and his mind recurred to the centurion'sspeech that he could if he list, "tread him down like a worm," and helaughed again softly, for he was quite aware that he was ten timesas strong as Phoebicius, and formerly he had overthrown the braggartArkesilaos of Kyrene and his cousin, the tall Xenophanes, both at oncein the sand of the Palaestra. Then he thought of Hermas, of his sweetdead mother, and of his father, and--which was the most comfortingthought of all--of how he had spared the old man this bitter sorrow.

  On his path there grew a little plant with a reddish blossom. In yearshe had never looked at a flower or, at any rate, had never wished topossess one; to-day he stooped down over the blossom that graced therock, meaning to pluck it. But he did not carry out his intention, forbefore he had laid his hand upon it, he reflected:

  "To whom could I offer it? And perhaps the flowers themselves rejoice inthe light, and in the silent life that is in their roots. How tightly itclings to the rock. Farther away from the road flowers of even greaterbeauty blow, seen by no mortal eye; they deck themselves in beauty forno one but for their Creator, and because they rejoice in themselves. Itoo will withdraw from the highways of mankind; let them accuse me! Solong as I live at peace with myself and my God I ask nothing of any one.He that abases himself--aye, he that abases himself!--My hour too shallcome, and above and beyond this life I shall see them all once more;Petrus and Dorothea, Agapitus and the brethren who now refuse to receiveme, and then, when my Saviour himself beckons me to Him, they will seeme as I am, and hasten to me and greet me with double kindness."

  He looked up, proud and rejoicing as he thought thus, and painted tohimself the joys of Paradise, to which this day he had earned an assuredclaim. He never took longer and swifter steps than when his mind wasoccupied with such meditations, and when he reached Stephanus' cavehe thought the way from the oasis to the heights had been shorter thanusual.

  He found the sick man in great anxiety, for he had waited until now forhis son in vain, and feared that Hermas had met with some accident--orhad abandoned him, and fled out into the world. Paulus soothed him withgentle words, and told him of the errand on which he had sent the lad tothe farther coast of the sea.

  We are never better disposed to be satisfied with even bad news thanwhen we have expected it to be much worse; so Stephanus listened to hisfriend's explanation quite calmly, and with signs of approval. He couldno longer conceal from himself that Hermas was not ripe for the life ofan anchorite, and since he had learned that his unhappy wife--whom hehad so long given up for lost--had died a Christian, he found that hecould reconcile his thoughts to relinquishing the boy to the world.He had devoted himself and his son to a life of penance, hoping andstriving that so Glycera's soul might be snatched from damnation, andnow he knew that she herself had earned her title to Heaven.

  "When will he come home again?" he asked Paulus.

  "In five or six days," was the answer. "Ali, the fisherman--out of whosefoot I took a thorn some time since--informed me secretly, as I wasgoing to church yesterday, that the Blemmyes are gathering behind thesulphur-mountains; when they have withdrawn, it will be high time tosend Hermas to Alexandria. My brother is still alive, and for my sake hewill receive him as a blood-relation, for he too has been baptized."

  "He may attend the school of catechumens in the metropolis, and ifhe--if he--"

  "That we shall see," interrupted Paulus. "For the present it comes tothis, we must let him go from hence, and leave him to seek out his ownway. You fancy that there may be in heaven a place of glory for suchas have never been overcome, and you would fain have seen Hermas amongthem. It reminds me of the physician of Corinth, who boasted that he wascleverer than any of his colleagues, for that not one of his patientshad ever died. And the man was right, for neither man nor beast had evertrusted to his healing arts. Let Hermas try his young strength, and evenif he be no priest, but a valiant warrior like his forefathers, even sohe may honestly serve God. But it will be a long time before all thiscomes to pass. So long as he is away I will attend on you--you stillhave some water in your jar?"

  "It has twice been filled for me," said the old man. "The brownshepherdess, who so often waters her goats at our spring, came to methe first thing in the morning and again about two hours ago; she askedafter Hermas, and then
offered of her own accord to fetch water for meso long as he was away. She is as timid as a bird, and flew off as soonas she had set down the jug."

  "She belongs to Petrus and cannot leave her goats for long," saidPaulus. "Now I will go and find you some herbs for a relish; there willbe no more wine in the first place. Look me in the face--for how greata sinner now do you take me? Think the very worst of me, and yet perhapsyou will hear worse said of me. But here come two men. Stay! one isHilarion, one of the bishop's acolytes, and the other is Pachomius theMemphite, who lately came to the mountain. They are coming up here, andthe Egyptian is carrying a small jar. I would it might hold some morewine to keep up your strength."

  The two friends had not long to remain in ignorance of their visitor'spurpose. So soon as they reached Stephanus' cave, both turned theirbacks on Paulus with conspicuously marked intention; nay the acolytesigned his brow with the cross, as if he thought it necessary to protecthimself against evil influences.

  The Alexandrian understood; he drew back and was silent, while Hilarionexplained to the sick man that Paulus was guilty of grave sins, andthat, until he had done full penance, he must remain excluded as arotten sheep from the bishop's flock, as well as interdicted fromwaiting on a pious Christian.

  "We know from Petrus," the speaker went on, "that your son, father, hasbeen sent across the sea, and as you still need waiting on, Agapitussends you by me his blessing and this strengthening wine; this youthtoo will stay by you, and provide you with all necessaries until Hermascomes home."

  With these words he gave the wine-jar to the old man, who looked inastonishment from him to Paulus, who felt indeed cut to the heart whenthe bishop's messenger turned to him for an instant, and with the cry,"Get thee out from among us!" disappeared. How many kindly ties, howmany services willingly rendered and affectionately accepted were sweptaway by these words--but Paulus obeyed at once. He went up to his sickfriend, their eyes met and each could see that the eyes of the otherwere dimmed with tears.

  "Paulus!" cried the old man, stretching out both his hands to hisdeparting friend, whom he felt he could forgive whatever his guilt; butthe Alexandrian did not take them, but turned away, and, without lookingback, hastily went up the mountain to a pathless spot, and then ontowards the valley--onwards and still onwards, till he was brought to apause by the steep declivity of the hollow way which led southwards fromthe mountains into the oasis.

  The sun stood high and it was burning hot. Streaming with sweat andpanting for breath he leaned against the glowing porphyry wall behindhim, hid his face in his hands and strove to collect himself, to think,to pray--for a long time in vain; for instead of joy in the sufferingwhich he had taken upon himself, the grief of isolation weighed upon hisheart, and the lamentable cry of the old man had left a warning echoin his soul, and roused doubts of the righteousness of a deed, by whicheven the best and purest had been deceived, and led into injusticetowards him. His heart was breaking with anguish and grief, but whenat last he returned to the consciousness of his sufferings physical andmental, he began to recover his courage, and even smiled as he murmuredto himself:

  "It is well, it is well--the more I suffer the more surely shall I findgrace. And besides, if the old man had seen Hermas go through what Ihave experienced it would undoubtedly have killed him. Certainly I wishit could have been done without--without--aye, it is even so--withoutdeceit; even when I was a heathen I was truthful and held a lie, whetherin myself or in another, in as deep horror as father Abraham heldmurder, and yet when the Lord required him, he led his son Isaac to theslaughter. And Moses when he beat the overseer--and Elias, and Deborah,and Judith. I have taken upon myself no less than they, but my lie willsurely be forgiven me, if it is not reckoned against them that they shedblood."

  These and such reflections restored Paulus to equanimity and tosatisfaction with his conduct, and he began to consider, whether heshould return to his old cave and the neighborhood of Stephanus, or seekfor a new abode. He decided on the latter course; but first he must findfresh water and some sort of nourishment; for his mouth and tongue werequite parched.

  Lower down in the valley sprang a brooklet of which he knew, and hardby it grew various herbs and roots, with which he had often allayed hishunger. He followed the declivity to its base, then turning to the left,he crossed a small table land, which was easily accessible from thegorge, but which on the side of the oasis formed a perpendicular cliffmany fathoms deep. Between it and the main mass of the mountain rosenumerous single peaks, like a camp of granite tents, or a wildly tossingsea suddenly turned to stone; behind these blocks ran the streamlet,which he found after a short search.

  Perfectly refreshed, and with renewed resolve to bear the worst withpatience, he returned to the plateau, and from the edge of the precipicehe gazed down into the desert gorge that stretched away far belowhis feet, and in whose deepest and remotest hollow the palmgroves andtamarisk-thickets of the oasis showed as a sharply defined mass ofgreen, like a luxuriant wreath flung upon a bier. The whitewashed roofsof the little town of Pharan shone brightly among the branches andclumps of verdure, and above them all rose the new church, which he wasnow forbidden to enter. For a moment the thought was keenly painful thathe was excluded from the devotions of the community, from the Lord'ssupper and from congregational prayer, but then he asked, was not everyblock of stone on the mountain an altar--was not the blue sky above athousand times wider, and more splendid than the mightiest dome raisedby the hand of man, not even excepting the vaulted roof of the Serapeumat Alexandria, and he remembered the "Amen" of the stones, that hadrung out after the preaching of the blind man. By this time he had quiterecovered himself, and he went towards the cliff in order to finda cavern that he knew of, and that was empty--for its gray-headedinhabitant had died some weeks since. "Verily," thought he, "it seems tome that I am by no means weighed down by the burden of my disgrace, but,on the contrary, lifted up. Here at least I need not cast down my eyes,for I am alone with my God, and in his presence I feel I need not beashamed."

  Thus meditating, he pressed on through a narrow space, which divided twohuge masses of porphyry, but suddenly he stood still, for he heard thebarking of a dog in his immediate neighborhood, and a few minutes aftera greyhound rushed towards him--now indignantly flying at him, andnow timidly retreating--while it carefully held up one leg, which waswrapped in a many-colored bandage.

  Paulus recollected the enquiry which Phoebicius lead addressed to theAmalekite as to a greyhound, and he immediately guessed that the Gaul'srunaway wife must be not far off. His heart beat more quickly, andalthough he did not immediately know how he should meet the disloyalwife, he felt himself impelled to go to seek her. Without delay hefollowed the way by which the dog had come, and soon caught sight of alight garment, which vanished behind the nearest rock, and then behind afarther, and yet a farther one.

  At last he came up with the fleeing woman. She was standing at the veryedge of a precipice, that rose high and sheer above the abyss--a strangeand fearful sight; her long golden hair had got tangled, and waved overher bosom and shoulders, half plaited, half undone. Only one foot wasfirm on the ground; the other-with its thin sandal all torn by the sharpstones--was stretched out over the abyss, ready for the next fatal step.At the next instant she might disappear over the cliff, for though withher right hand she held on to a point of rock, Paulus could see that theboulder had no connection with the rock on which she stood, and rockedtoo and fro.

  She hung over the edge of the chasm like a sleepwalker, or a possessedcreature pursued by demons, and at the same time her eyes glistened withsuch wild madness, and she drew her breath with such feverish rapiditythat Paulus, who had come close up to her, involuntarily drew back. Hesaw that her lips moved, and though he could not understand what shesaid, he felt that her voiceless utterance was to warn him back.

  What should he do? If he hurried forward to save her by a hasty grip,and if this manoeuvre failed, she would fling herself irredeemably intothe abyss: if he left her to he
rself, the stone to which she clung wouldget looser and looser, and as soon as it fell she would certainlyfall too. He had once heard it said, that sleep-walkers always threwthemselves down when they heard their names spoken; this statement nowrecurred to his mind, and he forbore from calling out to her.

  Once more the unhappy woman waved him off; his very heart stoppedbeating, for her movements were wild and vehement, and he could see thatthe stone which she was holding on by shifted its place. He understoodnothing of all the words which she tried to say--for her voice, whichonly yesterday had been so sweet, to-day was inaudibly hoarse--exceptthe one name "Phoebicius," and he felt no doubt that she clung to thestone over the abyss, so that, like the mountain-goat when it seesitself surprised by the hunter, she might fling herself into the depthbelow rather than be taken by her pursuer. Paulus saw in her neither herguilt nor her beauty, but only a child of man trembling on the brinkof a fearful danger whom he must save from death at any cost; and thethought that he was at any rate not a spy sent in pursuit of her byher husband, suggested to him the first words which he found courage toaddress to the desperate woman. They were simple words enough, but theywere spoken in a tone which fully expressed the childlike amiability ofhis warm heart, and the Alexandrian, who had been brought up in the mostapproved school of the city of orators, involuntarily uttered his wordsin the admirably rich and soft chest voice, which he so well knew how touse.

  "Be thankful," said he, "poor dear woman--I have found you in afortunate hour. I am Paulus, Hermas' best friend, and I would willinglyserve you in your sore need. No danger is now threatening you, forPhoebicius is seeking you on a wrong road; you may trust me. Look atme! I do not look as if I could betray a poor erring woman. But you arestanding on a spot, where I would rather see my enemy than you; lay yourhand confidently in mine--it is no longer white and slender, but it isstrong and honest--grant me this request and you will never rue it! See,place your foot here, and take care how you leave go of the rock there.You know not how suspiciously it shook its head over your strangeconfidence in it. Take care! there--your support has rolled over intothe abyss! how it crashes and splits. It has reached the bottom, smashedinto a thousand pieces, and I am thankful that you preferred to followme rather than that false support." While Paulus was speaking he hadgone up to Sirona, as a girl whose bird has escaped from its cage, andwho creeps up to it with timid care in the hope of recapturing it; heoffered her his hand, and as soon as he felt hers in his grasp, he hadcarefully rescued her from her fearful position, and had led her downto a secure footing on the plateau. So long as she followed himunresistingly he led her on towards the mountain--without aim or fixeddestination--but away, away from the abyss.

  She paused by a square block of diorite, and Paulus, who had not failedto observe how heavy her steps were, desired her to sit down; he pushedup a flag of stone, which he propped with smaller ones, so that Sironamight not lack a support for her weary back. When he had accomplishedthis, Sirona leaned back against the stone, and something of dawningsatisfaction was audible in the soft sigh, which was the first soundthat had escaped her tightly closed lips since her rescue. Paulus smiledat her encouragingly, and said, "Now rest a little, I see what you want;one cannot defy the heat of the sun for a whole day with impunity."

  Sirona nodded, pointed to her mouth, and implored wearily and verysoftly for "water, a little water." Paulus struck his hand againsthis forehead, and cried eagerly, "Directly--I will bring you a freshdraught. In a few minutes I will be back again."

  Sirona looked after him as he hastened away. Her gaze became more andmore staring and glazed, and she felt as if the rock, on which she wassitting, were changing into the ship which had brought her from Massiliato Ostia. Every heaving motion of the vessel, which had made her sogiddy as it danced over the shifting waves, she now distinctly feltagain, and at last it seemed as if a whirlpool had seized the ship,and was whirling it round faster and faster in a circle. She closed hereyes, felt vaguely and in vain in the air for some holdfast, her headfell powerless on one side, and before her cheek sank upon her shouldershe uttered one feeble cry of distress, for she felt as if all her limbswere dropping from her body, as leaves in autumn fall from the boughs,and she fell back unconscious on the stony couch which Paulus hadconstructed for her.

  It was the first swoon that Sirona, with her sound physical and mentalpowers, had ever experienced; but the strongest of her sex would havebeen overcome by the excitement, the efforts, the privations, and thesufferings which had that day befallen the unfortunate fair one.

  At first she had fled without any plan out into the night and up themountain; the moon lighted her on her way, and for fully an hour shecontinued her upward road without any rest. Then she heard the voices oftravellers who were coming towards her, and she left the beaten road andtried to get away from them, for she feared that her greyhound, whichshe still carried' on her arm, would betray her by barking, or if theyheard it whining, and saw it limp. At last she had sunk down on a stone,and had reflected on all the events of the last few hours, and on whatshe had to do next. She could look back dreamily on the past, and buildcastles in the air in a blue-skyed future-this was easy enough; but shedid not find it easy to reflect with due deliberation, and to think inearnest. Only one thing was perfectly clear to her: she would ratherstarve and die of thirst, and shame, and misery-nay, she would ratherbe the instrument of her own death, than return to her husband. Sheknew that she must in the first instance expect ill-usage, scorn, andimprisonment in a dark room at the Gaul's hands; but all that seemed toher far more endurable than the tenderness with which he from timeto time approached her. When she thought of that, she shuddered andclenched her white teeth, and doubled her fists so tightly that hernails cut the flesh. But what was she to do? If Hermas were to meet her?And yet what help could she look for from him, for what was he but amere lad, and the thought of linking her life to his, if only for a day,appeared to her foolish and ridiculous.

  Certainly she felt no inclination to repent or to blame herself; stillit had been a great folly on her part to call him into the house for thesake of amusing herself with him.

  Then she recollected the severe punishment she had once suffered,because, when she was still quite little, and without meaning any harm,she had taken her father's water-clock to pieces, and had spoiled it.

  She felt that she was very superior to Hermas, and her position was nowtoo grave a one for her to feel inclined to play any more. She thoughtindeed of Petrus and Dorothea, but she could only reach them by goingback to the oasis, and then she feared to be discovered by Phoebicius.

  If Polykarp now could only meet her on his way back from Raithu; but theroad she had just quitted did not lead from thence, but to the gate-waythat lay more to the southwards.

  The senator's son loved her--of that she was sure, for no one elsehad ever looked into her eyes with such deep delight, or such tenderaffection; and he was no inexperienced boy, but a right earnest man,whose busy and useful life now appeared to her in a quite differentlight to that in which she had seen it formerly. How willingly now wouldshe have allowed herself to be supported and guided by Polykarp! But howcould she reach him? No--even from him there was nothing to be expected;she must rely upon her own strength, and she decided that so soon as themorning should blush, and the sun begin to mount in the cloudless sky,she would keep herself concealed during the day, among the mountains,and then as evening came on, she would go down to the sea, and endeavorto get on board a vessel to Klysma and thence reach Alexandria. She worea ring with a finely cut onyx on her finger, elegant ear-rings in herears, and on her left arm a bracelet. These jewels were of virgin gold,and besides these she had with her a few silver coins and one large goldpiece, that her father had given her as token out of his small store,when she had quitted him for Rome, and that she had hitherto preservedas carefully as if it were a talisman.

  She pressed the token, which was sewn into a little bag, to her lips,and thought of her paternal home, and her brothers and si
sters.

  Meanwhile the sun mounted higher and higher: she wandered from rock torock in search of a shady spot and a spring of water, but none was to befound, and she was tormented with violent thirst and aching hunger.By mid-day the strips of shade too had vanished, where she had foundshelter from the rays of the sun, which now beat down unmercifully onher un protected head. Her forehead and neck began to tingle violently,and she fled before the burning beams like a soldier before the shaftsof his pursuer. Behind the rocks which hemmed in the plateau on whichPaulus met her, at last, when she was quite exhausted, she found a shadyresting-place. The greyhound lay panting in her lap, and held up itsbroken paw, which she had carefully bound up in the morning when she hadfirst sat down to rest, with a strip of stuff that she had torn with thehelp of her teeth from her under-garment. She now bound it up afresh,and nursed the little creature, caressing it like an infant. The dog wasas wretched and suffering as herself, and besides it was the only beingthat, in spite of her helplessness, she could cherish and be dear to.But ere long she lost the power even to speak caressing words or to stira hand to stroke the dog. It slipped off her lap and limped away, whileshe sat staring blankly before her, and at last forgot her sufferingsin an uneasy slumber, till she was roused by Iambe's barking and theAlexandrian's footstep. Almost half-dead, her mouth parched and brainon fire, while her thoughts whirled in confusion, she believed thatPhoebicius had found her track, and was come to seize her. She hadalready noted the deep precipice to the edge of which she now fled,fully resolved to fling herself over into the depths below, rather thanto surrender herself prisoner.

  Paulus had rescued her from the fall, but now--as he came up to her withtwo pieces of stone which were slightly hollowed, so that he had beenable to bring some fresh water in them, and which he held level withgreat difficulty, walking with the greatest care--he thought thatinexorable death had only too soon returned to claim the victim he hadsnatched from him, for Sirona's head hung down upon her breast, herface was sunk towards her lap, and at the back of her head, where herabundant hair parted into two flowing tresses, Paulus observed on thesnowy neck of the insensible woman a red spot which the sun must haveburnt there.

  His whole soul was full of compassion for the young, fair, and unhappycreature, and, while he took hold of her chin, which had sunk on herbosom, lifted her white face, and moistened her forehead and lips withwater, he softly prayed for her salvation.

  The shallow cavity of the stones only offered room for a very smallquantity of the refreshing moisture, and so he was obliged to returnseveral times to the spring. While he was away the dog remained by hismistress, and would now lick her hand, now put his sharp little noseclose up to her mouth, and examine her with an anxious expression, as ifto ascertain her state of health.

  When Paulus had gone the first time to fetch some water for Sironahe had found the dog by the side of the spring, and he could not helpthinking, "The unreasoning brute has found the water without a guidewhile his mistress is dying of thirst. Which is the wiser--the man orthe brute?" The little dog on his part strove to merit the anchorite'sgood feelings towards him, for, though at first he had barked at him,he now was very friendly to him, and looked him in the face from time totime as though to ask, "Do you think she will recover?"

  Paulus was fond of animals, and understood the little dog's language.When Sirona's lips began to move and to recover their rosy color, hestroked Iambe's smooth sharp head, and said, as he held a leaf that hehad curled up to hold some water to Sirona's lips, "Look, little fellow,how she begins to enjoy it! A little more of this, and again a littlemore. She smacks her lips as if I were giving her sweet Falernian. Iwill go and fill the stone again; you stop here with her, I shall beback again directly, but before I return she will have opened her eyes;you are pleasanter to look upon than a shaggy old graybeard, and shewill be better pleased to see you than me when she awakes." Paulus'prognosis was justified, for when he returned to Sirona with a freshsupply of water she was sitting upright; she rubbed her open eyes,stretched her limbs, clasped the greyhound in both arms, and burst intoa violent flood of tears.

  The Alexandrian stood aside motionless, so as not to disturb her,thinking to himself:

  "These tears will wash away a large part of her suffering from hersoul."

  When at last she was calmer, and began to dry her eyes, he went up toher, offered her the stone cup of water, and spoke to her kindly. Shedrank with eager satisfaction, and ate the last bit of bread that hecould find in the pocket of his garment, soaking it in the water. Shethanked him with the childlike sweetness that was peculiar to her, andthen tried to rise, and willingly allowed him to support her. She wasstill very weary, and her head ached, but she could stand and walk.

  As soon as Paulus had satisfied himself that she had no symptoms Offever, he said, "Now, for to-day, you want nothing more but a warm messof food, and a bed sheltered from the night-chill; I will provide both.You sit down here; the rocks are already throwing long shadows, andbefore the sun disappears behind the mountain I will return. While I amaway, your four-footed companion here will while away the time."

  He hastened down to the spring with quick steps; close to it was theabandoned cave which he had counted on inhabiting instead of his formerdwelling. He found it after a short search, and in it, to his great joy,a well preserved bed of dried plants, which he soon shook up and relaid,a hearth, and wood proper for producing fire by friction, a water-jar,and in a cellar-like hole, whose opening was covered with stones and soconcealed from any but a practised eye, there were some cakes of hardbread, and several pots. In one of these were some good dates, inanother gleamed some white meal, a third was half full of sesame-oil,and a fourth held some salt.

  "How lucky it is," muttered the anchorite, as he quitted the cave, "thatthe old anchorite was such a glutton."

  By the time he returned to Sirona, the sun was going down.

  There was something in the nature and demeanor of Paulus, which made alldistrust of him impossible, and Sirona was ready to follow him, but shefelt so weak that she could scarcely support herself on her feet.

  "I feel," she said, "as if I were a little child, and must begin againto learn to walk."

  "Then let me be your nurse. I knew a Spartan dame once, who had a beardalmost as rough as mine. Lean confidently on me, and before we go downthe slope, we will go up and down the level here two or three times."She took his arm, and he led her slowly up and down.

  It vividly recalled a picture of the days of his youth, and heremembered a day when his sister, who was recovering from a severeattack of fever, was first allowed to go out into the open air. She hadgone out, clinging to his arm into the peristyle of his father's house;as he walked backward and forwards with poor, weary, abandoned Sirona,his neglected figure seemed by degrees to assume the noble aspect of ahigh-born Greek; and instead of the rough, rocky soil, he felt as ifhe were treading the beautiful mosaic pavement of his father's court.Paulus was Menander again, and if there was little in the presence ofthe recluse, which could recall his identity with the old man he hadtrodden down, the despised anchorite felt, while the expelled and sinfulwoman leaned on his arm, the same proud sense of succoring a woman, aswhen he was the most distinguished youth of a metropolis, and when hehad led forward the master's much courted daughter in the midst of ashouting troop of slaves.

  Sirona had to remind Paulus that night was coming on, and was startled,when the hermit removed her hand from his arm with ungentle haste, andcalled to her to follow him with a roughness that was quite new to him.She obeyed, and wherever it was necessary to climb over the rocks, hesupported and lifted her, but he only spoke when she addressed him.

  When they had reached their destination, he showed her the bed, andbegged her to keep awake, till he should have prepared a dish of warmfood for her, and he shortly brought her a simple supper, and wished hera good night's rest, after she had taken it.

  Sirona shared the bread and the salted meal-porridge with her dog,and then lay down on th
e couch, where she sank at once into a deep,dreamless sleep, while Paulus passed the night sitting by the hearth.

  He strove to banish sleep by constant prayer, but fatigue frequentlyovercame him, and he could not help thinking of the Gaulish lady, and ofthe many things, which if only he were still the rich Menander, he wouldprocure in Alexandria for her and for her comfort. Not one prayer couldhe bring to its due conclusion, for either his eyes closed before hecame to the "Amen," or else worldly images crowded round him, andforced him to begin his devotions again from the beginning, when hehad succeeded in recollecting himself. In this half-somnolent state heobtained not one moment of inward collectedness, of quiet reflection;not even when he gazed up at the starry heavens, or looked down on theoasis, veiled in night, where many others like himself were deserted bysleep. Which of the citizens could it be that was watching by that lightwhich he saw glimmering down there in unwonted brightness?--till hehimself, overpowered by fatigue, fell asleep.