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HOMO SUM 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORG EBERS 
 
 AUTHO R OF "U ARDA." ETC. 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 £*U FORMAL 
 
 From the German by CLARA BELL. 
 
 AUTHORIZED EDITION. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 WILLIAM S. GOTTSBERGER, PUBLISHER 
 
 11 MURRAY STREET 
 
 1888 
 
Copyright, 1880, by William S. Gottsberger. 
 
 Published by authority of the 
 
 Author and of Baron Tauchnitz. 
 
TO 
 
 ALMA TADEMA, M. A. 
 
 THE GREAT MASTER OF PICTORIAL REPRESENTATION 
 OF THE LIFE OF THE ANCIENTS 
 
 THIS TALE IS DEDICATED 
 
 WITH SINCERE REGARD BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 183644 
 
Homo sum : humani nihil a me alienum puto. 
 
 Terence, Heautontimorumenos. 25. 
 
•RSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In the course of my labors preparatory to writing 
 a history of the Sinaitic peninsula, the study of the first 
 centuries of Christianity for a long time claimed my 
 attention ; and in the mass of martyrology, of ascetic 
 writings, and of histories of saints and monks, which it 
 was necessary to work through and sift for my strictly 
 limited object, I came upon a narrative (in Cotelerius 
 Ecclesiae Grecae Monumenta) which seemed to me pe- 
 culiar and touching notwithstanding its improbability. 
 Sinai and the oasis of Pharan which lies at its foot were 
 the scene of action. 
 
 When, in my journey through Arabia Petraea, I saw 
 the caves of the anchorites of Sinai with my own eyes 
 and trod their soil with my own feet, that story recurred 
 to my mind and did not cease to haunt me while I 
 travelled on farther in the desert. 
 
 A soul's problem of the most exceptional type 
 seemed to me to be offered by the simple course of this 
 little history. 
 
 An anchorite, falsely accused instead of another, 
 takes his punishment of expulsion on himself without 
 exculpating himself, and his innocence becomes known 
 only through the confession of the real culprit. 
 
 There was a peculiar fascination in imagining what 
 the emotions of a soul might be which could lead to 
 such apathy (artaSeia), to such an annihilation of all 
 sensibility; and while the very deeds and thoughts of the 
 strange cave-dweller grew more and more vivid in my 
 mind the figure of Paulus took form, as it were as an 
 example, and soon a crowd of ideas gathered round it, 
 
 Homo Sum. i 
 
2 PREFACE. 
 
 growing at last to a distinct entity, which excited and 
 urged me on till I ventured to give it artistic expression 
 in the form of a narrative. I was prompted to elaborate 
 this subject — which had long been shaping itself to per- 
 fect conception in my mind as ripe material for a romance 
 — by my readings in Coptic monkish annals, to which 
 I was led by Abel's Coptic studies ; and I afterwards 
 received a further stimulus from the small but weighty 
 essay by H. Weingarten on the origin of monasticism, 
 in which I still study the early centuries of Christianity, 
 especially in Egypt. 
 
 This is not the place in which to indicate the points 
 on which I feel myself obliged to differ from Wein- 
 garten. My acute fellow-laborer at Breslau clears away 
 much which does not deserve to remain, but in many 
 parts of his book he seems to me to sweep with too 
 hard a broom. 
 
 Easy as it would have been to lay the date of my 
 story in the beginning of the fortieth year of the fourth 
 century instead of the thirtieth, I have forborne from 
 doing so because I feel able to prove with certainty that 
 at the time which I have chosen there were not only 
 heathen recluses (eyKSHXeiffjusvoi) in the temples of 
 Serapis but also Christian anchorites; I fully agree 
 with him that the beginnings of organized Christian 
 monasticism can in no case be dated earlier than the 
 year 350. 
 
 The Paulus of my story must not be confounded 
 with the " first hermit," Paulus of Thebes, whom Wein- 
 garten has with good reason struck out of the category 
 of historical personages. He, with all the figures in 
 this narrative, is a purely fictitious person, the vehicle 
 for an idea, neither more nor less. I selected no par- 
 
PREFACE. 3 
 
 ticular model for my hero, and I claim for him no at- 
 tribute but that of his having been possible at the period; 
 least of all did I think of Saint Anthony, who is now 
 deprived even of his distinguished biographer Athana- 
 sius, and who is represented as a man of very sound 
 judgment but of so scant an education that he was 
 master only of Egyptian. 
 
 The dogmatic controversies which were already 
 kindled at the time of my story I have, on careful con- 
 sideration, avoided mentioning. The dwellers on Sinai 
 and in the oasis took an eager part in them at a later 
 date. 
 
 That Mount Sinai to which I desire to transport the 
 Teader must not be confounded with the mountain 
 which lies at a long day's journey to the south of it. 
 It is this that has borne the name, at any rate since the 
 time of Justinian; the celebrated convent of the Trans- 
 figuration lies at its foot, and it has been commonly ac- 
 cepted as the Sinai of Scripture. In the description of 
 my journey through Arabia Petraea I have endeavored 
 to bring fresh proof of the view, first introduced by 
 Lepsius, that the giant-mountain, now called Serbal, 
 must be regarded as the mount on which the law was 
 given — and was indeed so regarded before the time of 
 Justinian — and not the Sinai of the monks. 
 
 As regards the stone house of the Senator Petrus, 
 with its windows opening on the street — contrary to 
 eastern custom — I may remark, in anticipation of well- 
 founded doubts, that to this day wonderfully well- 
 preserved fire-proof walls stand in the oasis of Pharan, 
 the remains of a pretty large number of similar buildings. 
 
 But these and such external details hold a quite 
 secondary place in this study of a soul. While in my 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 earlier romances the scholar was compelled to make 
 concessions to the poet and the poet to the scholar, in 
 this one I have not attempted to instruct, nor sought 
 to clothe the outcome of, my studies in forms of flesh 
 and blood ; I have aimed at absolutely nothing but to 
 give artistic expression to the vivid realization of an 
 idea that had deeply stirred my soul. The simple fig- 
 ures whose inmost being I have endeavored to reveal 
 to the reader fill the canvas of a picture where, in the 
 dark background, rolls the flowing ocean of the world's 
 history. 
 
 The Latin title was suggested to me by an often 
 used motto which exactly agrees with the fundamental 
 view to which I have been led by my meditations on 
 the mind and being of man • even of those men who 
 deem that they have climbed the very highest steps 
 of that stair which leads into the Heavens. 
 
 In the Heautontimorumenos of Terence, Chremes 
 answers his neighbor Menedemus (Act I, Sc. i, v. 25) : 
 
 " Homo sum ; humani nil a me alienum puto," 
 which Donner translates literally : 
 
 " I am human, nothing that is human can I regard 
 as alien to me." 
 
 But Cicero and Seneca already used this line as a 
 proverb, and in a sense which far transcends that which 
 it would seem to convey in context with the passage 
 whence it is taken ; and as I coincide with them, I have 
 transferred it to the title-page of this book with this 
 meaning : 
 
 " I am a man ; and I feel that I am above all else a 
 man." 
 
 Leipzig, November u, 1877. 
 
 Georg Ebers. 
 
HOMO SUM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Rocks — naked, hard, red-brown rocks all round ; 
 not a bush, not a blade, not a clinging moss such as 
 elsewhere nature has lightly flung on the rocky surface 
 of the heights, as if a breath of her creative life had 
 softly touched the barren stone. Nothing but smooth 
 granite, and above it a sky as bare of cloud as the rocks 
 are of shrubs and herbs. 
 
 And yet in every cave of the mountain wall there 
 moves a human life; two small grey birds too float 
 softly in the pure, light air of the desert that glows in 
 the noonday sun, and then they vanish behind a range 
 of cliffs, which shuts in the deep gorge as though it 
 were a wall built by man. 
 
 There it is pleasant enough, for a spring bedews the 
 stony soil and there, as wherever any moisture touches 
 the desert, aromatic plants thrive, and umbrageous 
 bushes grow. When Osiris embraced the goddess of 
 the desert — so runs the Egyptian myth — he left his 
 green wreath on her couch. 
 
 But at the time and in the sphere where our history 
 moves the old legends are no longer known or are 
 ignored. We must carry the reader back to the be- 
 ginning of the thirtieth year of the fourth century after 
 the birth of the Saviour, and away to the mountains of 
 
6 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Sinai on whose sacred ground solitary anchorites have 
 for some few years been dwelling — men weary of the 
 world, and vowed to penitence, but as yet without con- 
 nection or rule among themselves. 
 
 Near the spring in the little ravine of which we have 
 spoken grows a many-branched feathery palm, but it 
 does not shelter it from the piercing rays of the sun of 
 those latitudes ; it seems only to protect the roots of 
 the tree itself; still the feathered boughs are strong 
 enough to support a small thread-bare blue cloth, which 
 projects like a penthouse, screening the face of a girl 
 who lies dreaming, stretched at full-length on the glow- 
 ing stones, while a few yellowish mountain-goats spring 
 from stone to stone in search of pasture as gaily as 
 though they found the midday heat pleasant and ex- 
 hilarating. From time to time the girl seizes the herds- 
 man's crook that lies beside her, and calls the goats 
 with a hissing cry that is audible at a considerable 
 distance. A young kid comes dancing up to her. Few 
 beasts can give expression to their feelings of delight - 
 but young goats can. 
 
 The girl puts out her bare slim foot, and playfully 
 pushes back the little kid who attacks her in fun, pushes 
 it again and again each time it skips forward, and in so 
 doing the shepherdess bends her toes as gracefully 
 as if she wished some looker-on to admire their slender 
 form. Once more the kid springs forward, and this 
 time with its head down. Its brow touches the sole of 
 her foot, but as it rubs its little hooked nose tenderly 
 against the girl's foot, she pushes it back so violently 
 that the little beast starts away, and ceases its game 
 with loud bleating. 
 
 It was just as if the girl had been waiting for the 
 
HOMO SUM. 7 
 
 right moment to hit the kid sharply; for the kick was a 
 hard one — almost a cruel one. The blue cloth hid the 
 face of the maiden, but her eyes must surely have 
 sparkled brightly when she so roughly stopped the 
 game. For a minute she remained motionless; but 
 the cloth, which had fallen low over her face, waved 
 gently to and fro, moved by her fluttering breath. She 
 was listening with eager attention, with passionate ex- 
 pectation ; her convulsively clenched toes betrayed her. 
 
 Then a noise became audible; it came from the 
 direction of the rough stair of unhewn blocks, which led 
 from the steep wall of the ravine down to the spring. 
 A shudder of terror passed through the tender, and not 
 yet fully developed limbs of the shepherdess; still she did 
 not move ; the grey birds which were now sitting on a 
 thorn-bush near her flew up, but they had merely heard 
 a noise, and could not distinguish who it was that it 
 announced. 
 
 The shepherdess's ear was sharper than theirs. She 
 heard that a man was approaching, and well knew that 
 one only trod with such a step. She put out her hand 
 for a stone that lay near her, and flung it into the spring 
 so that the waters immediately became troubled ; then 
 she turned on her side, and lay as if asleep with her 
 head on her arm. The heavy steps became more and 
 more distinctly audible. 
 
 A tall youth was descending the rocky stair ; by his 
 dress he was seen to be one of the anchorites of Sinai, 
 for he wore nothing but a shirt-shaped garment of coarse 
 linen, which he seemed to have outgrown, and raw 
 leather sandals, which were tied on to his feet with 
 fibrous palm-bast. 
 
 No slave could be more poorly clothed by his owner 
 
8 HOMO SUM. 
 
 and yet no one would have taken him for a bondman, 
 for he walked erect and self-possessed. He could not 
 be more than twenty years of age ; that was evident in 
 the young soft hair on his upper lip, chin, and cheeks ; 
 but in his large blue eyes there shone no light of youth, 
 only discontent, and his lips were firmly closed as if in 
 defiance. 
 
 He now stood still, and pushed back from his fore- 
 head the superabundant and unkempt brown hair that 
 flowed round his head like a lion's mane ; then he ap- 
 proached the well, and as he stooped to draw the water 
 in the large dried gourd-shell which he held, he observed 
 first that the spring was muddy, and then perceived the 
 goats, and at last their sleeping mistress. 
 
 He impatiently set down the vessel and called the 
 girl loudly, but she did not move till he touched her 
 somewhat roughly with his foot. Then she sprang up 
 as if stung by an asp, and two eyes as black as night 
 flashed at him out of her dark young face ; the delicate 
 nostrils of her aquiline nose quivered, and her white 
 teeth gleamed as she cried : 
 
 " Am I a dog that you wake me in this fashion ? " 
 
 He colored, pointed sullenly to the well and said 
 sharply : " Your cattle have troubled the water again ; 
 I shall have to wait here till it is clear and I can draw 
 some." 
 
 " The day is long," answered the shepherdess, and 
 while she rose she pushed, as if by chance, another 
 stone into the water. 
 
 Her triumphant, flashing glance as she looked down 
 into the troubled spring did not escape the young man, 
 and he exclaimed angrily : 
 
HOMO SUM. 9 
 
 "He is right! You are a venomous snake — a 
 demon of hell." 
 
 She raised herself and made a face at him, as if she 
 wished to show him that she really was some horrible 
 fiend ; the unusual sharpness of her mobile and youth- 
 ful features gave her a particular facility for doing so. 
 And she fully attained her end, for he drew back with 
 a look of horror, stretched out his arms to repel her, 
 and exclaimed as he saw her uncontrollable laughter, 
 
 " Back, demon, back ! In the name of the Lord ! 
 I ask thee, who art thou ? " 
 
 " I am Miriam — who else should I be ? " she an- 
 swered haughtily. 
 
 He had expected a different reply, her vivacity an- 
 noyed him, and he said angrily, " Whatever your name 
 is you are a fiend, and I will ask Paulus to forbid you 
 to water your beasts at our well." 
 
 " You might run to your nurse, and complain of me 
 to her if you had one," she answered, pouting her lips 
 contemptuously at him. 
 
 He colored ; she went on boldly, and with eager 
 play of gesture. 
 
 " You ought to be a man, for you are strong and 
 big, but you let yourself be kept like a child or a miser- 
 able girl j your only business is to hunt for roots and 
 berries, and fetch water in that wretched thing there. I 
 have learned to do that ever since I was as big as that!" 
 and she indicated a contemptibly little measure, with 
 the outstretched pointed fingers of her two hands, which 
 were not less expressively mobile than her features. 
 " Phoh ! you are stronger and taller than all the Ama- 
 lekite lads down there, but you never try to measure 
 
IO HOMO SUM. 
 
 yourself with them in shooting with a bow and arrows 
 or in throwing a spear ! " 
 
 " If I only dared as much as I wish ! " he interrupted,, 
 and flaming scarlet mounted to his face, " I would be a 
 match for ten of those lean rascals." 
 
 " I believe you," replied the girl, and her eager 
 glance measured the youth's broad breast and muscular 
 arms with an expression of pride. " I believe you, but 
 why do you not dare ? Are you the slave of that man 
 up there ? " 
 
 " He is my father and besides — " 
 
 " What besides ? " she cried, waving her hand as if 
 to wave away a bat. " If no bird ever flew away from 
 the nest there would be a pretty swarm in it. Look at 
 my kids there — as long as they need their mother they 
 run about after her, but as soon as they can find their 
 food alone they seek it wherever they can find it, and I 
 can tell you the yearlings there have quite forgotten 
 whether they sucked the yellow dam or the brown one. 
 And what great things does your father do for you ? " 
 
 " Silence ! " interrupted the youth with excited in- 
 dignation. " The evil one speaks through thee. Get 
 thee from me, for I dare not hear that which I dare not 
 utter." 
 
 " Dare, dare, dare ! " she sneered. " What do you 
 dare then ? not even to listen ! " 
 
 " At any rate not to what you have to say, you 
 goblin ! " he exclaimed vehemently. " Your voice is 
 hateful to me, and if I meet you again by the well I 
 will drive you away with stones." 
 
 While he spoke thus she stared speechless at him, 
 the blood had left her lips, and she clenched her small 
 hands. He was about to pass her to fetch some water, 
 
HOMO SUM. II 
 
 but she stepped into his path, and held him spell-bound 
 with the fixed gaze of her eyes. A cold chill ran through 
 him when she asked him with trembling lips and a 
 smothered voice, " What harm have I done you ? " 
 
 " Leave me ! " said he, and he raised his hand to- 
 push her away from the water. 
 
 " You shall not touch me," she cried beside herself. 
 " What harm have I done you ? " 
 
 " You know nothing of God," he answered, " and 
 he who is not of God is of the Devil." 
 
 " You do not say that of yourself," answered she,, 
 and her voice recovered its tone of light mockery. 
 " What they let you believe pulls the wires of your 
 tongue just as a hand pulls the strings of a puppet. 
 Who told you that I was of the Devil ? " 
 
 " Why should I conceal it from you ? " he answered 
 proudly. " Our pious Paulus, warned me against you 
 and I will thank him for it. ' The evil one,' he says, 
 ' looks out of your eyes,' and he is right, a thousand 
 times right. When you look at me I feel as if I could 
 tread every thing that is holy under foot ; only last night 
 again I dreamed I was whirling in a dance with you — '" 
 
 At these words all gravity and spite vanished from 
 Miriam's eyes ; she clapped her hands and cried, " If it 
 had only been the fact and not a dream ! Only do not 
 be frightened again, you fool ! Do you know then 
 what it is when the pipes sound, and the lutes tinkle, 
 and our feet fly round in circles as if they had wings ? " 
 
 " The wings of Satan," Hermas interrupted sternly. 
 " You are a demon, a hardened heathen." 
 
 " So says our pious Paulus," laughed the girl. 
 
 " So say I too," cried the young man. " Who ever 
 
12 HOMO SUM. 
 
 saw you in the assemblies of the just ? Do you pray ? 
 Do you ever praise the Lord and our Saviour ? " 
 
 " And what should I praise them for ? " asked Mir- 
 iam. " Because I am regarded as a foul fiend by the 
 most pious among you perhaps ? " 
 
 " But it is because you are a sinner that Heaven de- 
 nies you its blessing." 
 
 " No — no, a thousand times no ! " cried Miriam. 
 V No god has ever troubled himself about me. And if 
 I am not good, why should I be when nothing but evil 
 «ver has fallen to my share ? Do you know who I am 
 and how I became so ? I was wicked, perhaps, when 
 both my parents were slain in their pilgrimage hither ? 
 Why, I was then no more than six years old, and what 
 is a child of that age ? But still I very well remember 
 that there were many camels grazing near our house, 
 and horses too that belonged to us, and that on a hand 
 that often caressed me — it was my mother's hand — a 
 large jewel shone. I had a black slave too that obeyed 
 me; when she and I did not agree I used to hang on 
 to her grey woolly hair and beat her. Who knows 
 what may have become of her? I did not love her, 
 but if I had her now, how kind I would be to her. 
 And now for twelve years I myself have eaten the bread 
 of servitude, and have kept Senator Petrus's goats, and 
 if I ventured to show myself at a festival among the 
 free maidens, they would turn me out and pull the 
 wreath out of my hair. And am I to be thankful? 
 What for, I wonder ? And pious ? What god has 
 taken any care of me ? Call me an evil demon — call 
 me so ! But if Petrus and your Paulus there say that 
 He who is up above us and who let me grow up to such 
 a lot is good, they tell a lie. God is cruel, and it is just 
 
HOMO SUM. 13 
 
 like Him to put it into your heart to throw stones and 
 scare me away from your well." 
 
 With these words she burst out into bitter sobs, and 
 her features worked with various and passionate dis- 
 tortion. 
 
 Hermas felt compassion for the weeping Miriam. 
 He had met her a hundred times and she had shown 
 herself now haughty, now discontented, now exacting 
 and now wrathful, but never before soft or sad. To-day, 
 for the first time, she had opened her heart to him ; the 
 tears which disfigured her countenance gave her char- 
 acter a value which it had never before had in his eyes, 
 and when he saw her weak and unhappy he felt 
 ashamed of his hardness. He went up to her kindly 
 and said: " You need not cry ; come to the well again 
 always, I will not prevent you." 
 
 His deep voice sounded soft and kind as he spoke, 
 but she sobbed more passionately than before, almost 
 convulsively, and she tried to speak but she could not. 
 Trembling in every slender limb, shaken with grief, and 
 overwhelmed with sorrow, the slight shepherdess stood 
 before him, and he felt as if he must help her. His 
 passionate pity cut him to the heart and fettered his by 
 no means ready tongue. 
 
 As he could find no word of comfort, he took the 
 water-gourd in his left hand and laid his right, in which 
 ho had hitherto held it, gently on her shoulder. She 
 started, but she let him do it ; he felt her warm breath ; 
 he would have drawn back, but he felt as if he could 
 not ; he hardly knew whether she was crying Qr laugh- 
 ing while she let his hand rest on her black waving 
 hair. 
 
 She did not move. At last she raised her head, her 
 
 
14 HOMO SUM. 
 
 €yes flashed into his, and at the same instant he felt two 
 slender arms clasped round his neck. He felt as if a 
 sea were roaring in his ears, and fire blazing in his eyes. 
 A nameless anguish seized him ; he tore himself vio- 
 lently free, and with a loud cry as if all the spirits of 
 hell were after him he fled up the steps that led from 
 the well, and heeded not that his water-jar was shattered 
 into a thousand pieces against the rocky wall. 
 
 She stood looking after him as if spell-bound. Then 
 she struck her slender hand against her forehead, threw 
 herself down by the spring again and stared into space; 
 there she lay motionless, only her mouth continued to 
 twitch. 
 
 When the shadow of the palm-tree grew longer she 
 sprang up, called her goats, and looked up, listening, to 
 the rock-steps by which he had vanished ; the twilight 
 is short in the neighborhood of the tropics, and she 
 knew that she would be overtaken by the darkness on 
 the stony and fissured road down the valley if she 
 lingered any longer. She feared the terrors of the night, 
 the spirits and demons, and a thousand vague dangers 
 whose nature she could not have explained even to 
 herself; and yet she did not stir from the spot nor cease 
 listening and waiting for his return till the sun had 
 disappeared behind the sacred mountain, and the glow 
 in the west had paled. 
 
 All around was as still as death, she could hear her- 
 self breathe, and as the evening chill fell she shuddered 
 with cold. 
 
 She now heard a loud noise above her head. A 
 ilock of wild mountain goats, accustomed to come at 
 this hour to quench their thirst at the spring, came 
 nearer and nearer, but drew back as they detected the 
 
HOMO SUM. 15 
 
 presence of a human being. Only the leader of the 
 herd remained standing on the brink of the ravine, and 
 she knew that he was only awaiting her departure to 
 lead the others down to drink. Following a kindly 
 impulse, she was on the point of leaving to make way 
 for the animals, when she suddenly recollected Hermas's 
 threat to drive her from the well, and she angrily picked 
 up a stone and flung it at the buck, which started and 
 hastily fled. The whole herd followed him. Miriam 
 listened to them as they scampered away, and then, 
 with her head sunk, she led her flock home, feeling her 
 way in the darkness with her bare feet. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 High above the ravine where the spring was lay a 
 level plateau of moderate extent, and behind it rose a 
 fissured cliff of bare, red-brown porphyry. A vein of 
 diorite of iron-hardness lay at its foot like a green rib- 
 bon, and below this there opened a small round cavern, 
 hollowed and arched by the cunning hand of nature. 
 In former times wild beasts, panthers or wolves, had 
 made it their home ; it now served as a dwelling for 
 young Hernias and his father. 
 
 Many similar caves were to be found in the holy 
 mountain, and other anchorites had taken possession 
 of the larger ones among them. 
 
 That of Stephanus was exceptionally high and 
 deep, and yet the space was but small which di- 
 vided the two beds of dried mountain herbs where, 
 on one, slept the father, and on the other, the son. 
 
l6 HOMO SUM. 
 
 It was long past midnight, but neither the younger 
 nor the elder cave-dweller seemed to be sleeping. 
 Hermas groaned aloud and threw himself vehemently 
 from one side to the other without any consideration 
 for the old man who, tormented with pain and weak- 
 ness, sorely needed sleep. Stephanus meanwhile denied 
 himself the relief of turning over or of sighing, when he 
 thought he perceived that his more vigorous son had 
 found rest. 
 
 " What could have robbed him of his rest, the boy 
 who usually slept so soundly, and was so hard to 
 waken ? " 
 
 " Whence comes it," thought Stephanus, " that the 
 young and strong sleep so soundly and so much, and 
 the old, who need rest, and even the sick, sleep so 
 lightly and so little. Is it that wakefulness may pro- 
 long the little term of life, of which they dread the end ? 
 How is it that man clings so fondly to this miserable 
 existence, and would fain slink away, and hide himself 
 when the angel calls and the golden gates open before 
 him ! We are like Saul, the Hebrew, who hid himself 
 when they came to him with the crown ! My wound 
 burns painfully ; if only I had a drink of water. If the 
 poor child were not so sound asleep I might ask him 
 for the jar." 
 
 Stephanus listened to his son and would not wake 
 him, when he heard his heavy and regular breathing. 
 He curled himself up shivering under the sheep-skin 
 which covered only half his body, for the icy nightwind 
 now blew through the opening of the cave, which by 
 day was as hot as an oven. 
 
 Some long minutes wore away ; at last he thought 
 he perceived that. Hermas had raised himself. Yes, 
 
HOMO SUM. 17 
 
 the sleeper must have wakened, for he began to speak, 
 and to call on the name of God. 
 
 The old man turned to his son and began softly, 
 " Do you hear me, my boy ? " 
 
 " I cannot sleep," answered the youth. 
 
 " Then give me something to drink," asked Stc 
 anus, " my wound burns intolerably." 
 
 Hermas rose at once, and reached the water -jr. 
 the sufferer. 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, my child," said the old man, f 
 ing for the neck of the jar. But he could not find it, 
 and exclaimed with surprise : " How damp and cold it 
 is — this is clay, and our jar was a gourd." 
 
 " I have broken it," interrupted Hermas, " and 
 Paulus lent me his." 
 
 " Well, well," said Stephanus anxious for drink ; he 
 gave the jar back to his son, and waited till he had 
 stretched himself again on his couch. Then he asked 
 anxiously: "You were out a long time this evening, 
 the gourd is broken, and you groaned in your sleep. 
 Whom did you meet ? " 
 
 "A demon of hell," answered Hermas. "And now 
 the fiend pursues me into our cave, and torments me in 
 a variety of shapes." 
 
 " Drive it out then and pray," said the old 1 
 gravely. " Unclean spirits flee at the name of God. ' 
 
 " I have called upon Him," sighed Hermas, " 
 in vain ; I see women with ruddy lips and flowing 
 and white marble figures with rounded limbs and fl 
 ing eyes beckon to me again and again." 
 
 "Then take the scourge," ordered the father, " « 
 so win peace." 
 
 Hermas once more obediently rose, and went out 
 
l8 HOMO SUM. 
 
 into the air with the scourge j the narrow limits of the 
 cave did not admit of his swinging it with all the 
 strength of his arms. 
 
 Very soon Stephanus heard the whistle of the 
 leathern thongs through the stillness of the night, their 
 hard blows on the springy muscles of the man and his 
 son's painful groaning. 
 
 At each blow the old man shrank as if it had fallen 
 on himself. At last he cried as loud as he was able : 
 " Enough — that is enough." 
 
 Hermas came back into the cave, his father called 
 him to his couch, and desired him to join with him in 
 prayer. 
 
 After the 'Amen' he stroked the lad's abundant 
 hair and said, "Since you went to Alexandria, you have 
 been quite another being. I would I had withstood 
 Bishop Agapitus, and forbidden you the journey. 
 Soon, I know, my Saviour will call me to himself, and 
 no one will keep you here j then the tempter will come 
 to you, and all the splendors of the great city, which 
 after all only shine like rotton wood, like shining snakes 
 and poisonous purple-berries — " 
 
 '•I do not care for them," interrupted Hermas, "the 
 noisy place bewildered and frightened me. Never, 
 never will I tread the spot again." 
 
 " So you have always said," replied Stephanus, 
 " and yet the journey quite altered you. How often 
 before that I used to think when I heard you laugh 
 that the sound must surely please our Father in Heaven. 
 And now ? You used to be like a singing bird, and 
 now you go about silent, you look sour and morose, 
 and evil thoughts trouble your sleep." 
 
 " That is my loss," answered Hermas. " Pray let 
 
HOMO SUM. 19 
 
 go of my hand ; the night will soon be past, and you 
 have the whole live-long day to lecture me in." 
 
 Stephanus sighed, and Hermas returned to his 
 couch. 
 
 Sleep avoided them both, and each knew that the 
 other was awake, and would willingly have spoken to 
 him, but dissatisfaction and defiance closed the son's 
 lips, and the father was silent because he could not 
 find exactly the heart- searching words that he was 
 seeking. 
 
 At last it was morning, a twilight glimmer struck 
 through the opening of the cave, and it grew lighter 
 and lighter in the gloomy vault; the boy awoke and 
 rose yawning. When he saw his father lying with his 
 •eyes open, he asked indifferently, "Shall I stay here or 
 go to morning worship? " 
 
 "Let us pray here together," begged the father. 
 "Who knows how long it may yet be granted to us to 
 do so ? 1 am not far from the day that no evening 
 ever closes. Kneel down here, and let me kiss the 
 image of the Crucified." 
 
 Hermas did as his father desired him, and as they 
 were ending their song of praise, a third voice joined 
 in the 'Amen.' 
 
 " Paulus !" cried the old man. " The Lord be 
 praised! pray look to my wound then. The arrow 
 head seeks to work some way out, and it burns fear- 
 fully." 
 
 The new comer, an anchorite, who for all clothing 
 wore a shirt-shaped coat of brown undressed linen, and 
 a sheep-skin, examined the wound carefully, and laid 
 some herbs on it, murmuring meanwhile some pious 
 texts. 
 
20 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " That is much easier," sighed the old man. " The 
 Lord has mercy on me for your goodness' sake." 
 
 " My goodness ? I am a vessel of wrath," replied 
 Paulus, with a deep, rich, sonorous voice, and his pe- 
 culiarly kind blue eyes were raised to heaven as if to 
 attest how greatly men were deceived in him. Then he 
 pushed the bushy grizzled hair, which hung in disorder 
 over his neck and face, out of his eyes, and said cheer- 
 fully : " No man is more than man, and many men are 
 less. In the ark there were many beasts, but only one 
 Noah." 
 
 "You are the Noah of our little ark," replied Steph- 
 anus. 
 
 " Then this great lout here is the elephant," laughed 
 Paulus. 
 
 " You are no smaller than he," replied Stephanus. 
 
 " It is a pity this stone roof is so low, else we might 
 have measured ourselves," said Paulus. "Aye ! if Her- 
 nias and I were as pious and pure as we are tall and 
 strong, we should both have the key of paradise in our 
 pockets. You were scourging yourself this night, boy ; 
 I heard the blows. It is well ; if the sinful flesh revolts, 
 thus we may subdue it." 
 
 " He groaned heavily and could not sleep," said 
 Stephanus. 
 
 "Aye, did he indeed ! " cried Paulus to the youth, 
 and held his powerful arms out towards him with 
 clenched fists ; but the threatening voice was loud rather 
 than terrible, and wild as the exceptionally big man 
 looked in his sheepskin, there was such irresistible kind- 
 liness in his gaze and in his voice, that no one could 
 have believed that his wrath was in earnest. 
 
 " Fiends of hell had met him," said Stephanus in 
 
HOMO SUM. 21 
 
 excuse for his son, "and I should not have closed an 
 eye even without his groaning; it is the fifth night." 
 
 " But in the sixth," said Paulus, " sleep is absolutely- 
 necessary. Put on your sheep-skin, Hermas ; you must 
 go down to the oasis to the Senator Petrus, and fetch a 
 good sleeping-draught for our sick man from him or 
 from Dame Dorothea, the deaconess. Just look ! the 
 youngster has really thought of his father's breakfast — 
 one's own stomach is a good reminder. Only put the 
 bread and the water down here by the couch ; while you 
 are gone I will fetch some fresh — now, come with me." 
 
 " Wait a minute, wait," cried Stephanus. " Bring a 
 new jar with you from the town, my son. You lent us 
 yours yesterday, Paulus, and I must — " 
 
 " I should soon have forgotten it," interrupted the 
 other. " I have to thank the careless fellow, for I have 
 now for the first time discovered the right way to drink, 
 as long as one is well and able. I would not have the 
 jar back for a measure of gold ; water has no relish un- 
 less you drink it out of the hollow of your hand ! The 
 shard is yours. I should be warring against my own 
 welfare, if I required it back. God be praised ! the craft- 
 iest thief can now rob me of nothing save my sheep- 
 skin." 
 
 Stephanus would have thanked him, but he took 
 Hermas by the hand, and led him out into the open air. 
 
 For some time the two men walked in silence over 
 the clefts and boulders up the mountain side. When 
 they had reached a plateau, which lay on the road that 
 led from the sea over the mountain into the oasis, he 
 turned to the youth, and said, 
 
 " If we always considered all the results of our 
 actions there would be no sins committed." 
 
22 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Hermas looked at him enquiringly, and Paulus went 
 on, 
 
 " If it had occurred to you to think how sorely your 
 poor father needed sleep, you would have lain still this 
 night." 
 
 " I could not," said the youth sullenly. "And you 
 know very well that I scourged myself hard enough." 
 
 " That was quite right, for you deserved a flogging 
 for a misconducted boy." 
 
 Hermas looked defiantly at his reproving friend, the 
 flaming color mounted to his cheek : for he remember- 
 ed the shepherdess's words that he might go and com- 
 plain to his nurse, and he cried out angrily : 
 
 " I will not let any one speak to me so ; I am no 
 longer a child." 
 
 " Net even your father's ?" asked Paulus, and he 
 looked at the boy with such an astonished and enquir- 
 ing air, that Hennas turned away his eyes in confusion. 
 
 " It is not right at any rate to trouble the last rem- 
 nant of life of that very man who longs to live for your 
 sake only." 
 
 " I should have been very willing to lie still, for I 
 love my father as well as any one else." 
 
 " You do not beat him," replied Paulus, " you carry 
 him bread and water, and do not drink up the wine 
 yourself, which the Bishop sends him home from the 
 Lord's supper; that is something certainly, but not 
 enough by a long way." 
 
 " I am no saint !" 
 
 " Nor I neither," exclaimed Paulus, " I am full of 
 sin and weakness. But I know what the love is which 
 was taught us by the Saviour, and that you too may 
 know. He suffered on the cross for you, and for me, 
 
HOMO SUM. . 23 
 
 and for all the poor and vile. Love is at once the eas- 
 iest and the most difficult of attainments. It requires 
 sacrifice. And you? How long is it now since you 
 last showed your father a cheerful countenance ?" 
 
 " I cannot be a hypocrite." 
 
 " Nor need you, but you must love. Certainly it is 
 not by what his hand does but by what his heart cheer- 
 fully offers, and by what he forces himself to give up 
 that a man proves his love." 
 
 " And is it no sacrifice that I waste all my youth 
 here ?" asked the boy. 
 
 Paulus stepped back from him a little way, shook 
 his matted head, and said, " Is that it ? You are think- 
 ing of Alexandria ! Ay ! no doubt life runs away much 
 quicker there than on our solitary mountain. You do 
 not fancy the tawny shepherd girl, but perhaps some 
 pretty pink and white Greek maiden down there has 
 looked into your eyes ?" 
 
 " Let me alone about the women," answered Hernias, 
 with genuine annoyance. " There are other things to 
 look at there." 
 
 The youth's eyes sparkled as he spoke, and Paulus 
 asked, not without interest, " Indeed ?" 
 
 "You know Alexandria better than I," answered 
 Hermas evasively. " You were born there, and they 
 say you had been a rich young man." 
 
 " Do they say so ?" said Paulus. " Perhaps they 
 are right ; but you must know that I am glad that noth- 
 ing any longer belongs to me of all the vanities that I 
 possessed, and I thank my Saviour that I can now turn 
 my back on the turmoil of men. What was it that 
 seemed to you so particularly tempting in all that 
 whirl ?" 
 
24 . HOMO SUM. 
 
 Hermas hesitated. He feared to speak, and yet 
 something urged and drove him to say out all that was 
 stirring his soul. If any one of all those grave men 
 who despised the world and among whom he had grown 
 up, could ever understand him, he knew well that it 
 would be Paulus ; Paulus whose rough beard he had 
 pulled when he was little, on whose shoulders he had 
 often sat, and who had proved to him a thousand times 
 how truly he loved him. It is true the Alexandrian 
 was the severest of them all, but he was harsh only to 
 himself. Hermas must once for all unburden his heart, 
 and with sudden decision he asked the anchorite : 
 
 " Did you often visit the baths ?" 
 
 " Often ? I only wonder that I did not melt away 
 and fall to pieces in the warm water like a wheaten loaf." 
 
 " Why do you laugh at that which makes men beau- 
 tiful ?" cried Hermas hastily. " Why may Christians 
 even visit the baths in Alexandria, while we up here, you 
 and my father and all anchorites, only use water to 
 quench our thirst ? You compel me to live like one of 
 you, and I do not like being a dirty beast." 
 
 " None can see us but the Most High," answered 
 Paulus, " and for him we cleanse and beautify our souls." 
 
 " But the Lord gave us our body too," interrupted 
 Hermas. " It is written that man is the image of God. 
 And we ! I appeared to myself as repulsive as a hideous 
 ape when at the great baths by the Gate of the Sun I 
 saw the youths and men with beautifully arranged and 
 scented hair and smooth limbs that shone with clean- 
 liness and purification. And as they went past, and I 
 looked at my mangy sheepfell, and thought of my wild 
 mane and my arms and feet, which are no worse formed 
 or weaker than theirs were, I turned hot and cold, and 
 
HOMO SUM. 25 
 
 I felt as if some bitter drink were choking me. 1 should 
 have liked to howl out with shame and envy and vex- 
 ation. I will not be like a monster !" 
 
 Hermas ground his teeth as he spoke the last words, 
 and Paulus looked uneasily at him as he went on : " My 
 body is God's as much as my soul is, and what is allowed 
 to the Christians in the city — " 
 
 " That we nevertheless may not do," Paulus interrupt- 
 ed gravely. " He who has once devoted himself to 
 Heaven must detach himself wholly from the charm of 
 life, and break one tie after another that binds him to 
 the dust. I too once upon a time have anointed this 
 body, and smoothed this rough hair, and rejoiced sin- 
 cerely over my mirror ; but I say to you, Hermas — and, 
 by my dear Saviour, I say it only because I feel it, deep 
 in my heart I feel it — to pray is better than to bathe, 
 and I, a poor wretch, have been favored with hours in 
 which my spirit has struggled free, and has been per- 
 mitted to share as an honored guest in the festal joys of 
 Heaven ! " 
 
 While he spoke, his wide open eyes had turned to- 
 wards Heaven and had acquired a wondrous brightness. 
 
 For a short time the two stood opposite each other 
 silent and motionless ; at last the anchorite pushed the 
 hair from off his brow, which was now for the first time 
 visible. It was well-formed, though somewhat narrow, 
 and its clear fairness formed a sharp contrast to his 
 sunburnt face. 
 
 " Boy," he said with a deep breath, " you know not 
 what joys you would sacrifice for the sake of worthless 
 things. Long ere the Lord calls the pious man to 
 Heaven, the pious has brought Heaven down to earth 
 in himself." 
 
26 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Hermas well understood what the anchorite meant, 
 for his father often for hours at a time gazed up into 
 Heaven in prayer, neither seeing nor hearing what was 
 going on around him, and was wont to relate to his son, 
 when he awoke from his ecstatic vision, that he had seen 
 the Lord or heard the angel-choir. 
 
 He himself had never succeeded in bringing himself 
 into such a state, although Stephanus had often com- 
 pelled him to remain on his knees praying with him for 
 many interminable hours. It often happened that the 
 old man's feeble flame of life had threatened to become 
 altogether extinct after these deeply soul-stirring exer- 
 cises, and Hermas would gladly have forbidden him 
 giving himself up to such hurtful emotions, for he loved 
 his father ; but they were looked upon as special mani- 
 festations of grace, and how should a son dare to express 
 his aversion to such peculiarly sacred acts ? But to 
 Paulus and in his present mood he found courage to 
 speak out. 
 
 " I have sure hope of Paradise," he said, " but it will 
 be first opened to us after death. The Christian should 
 be patient ; why can you not wait for Heaven till the 
 Saviour calls you, instead of desiring to enjoy its pleas- 
 ures here on earth ? This first and that after ! Why 
 should God have bestowed on us the gifts of the flesh 
 if not that we may use them ? Beauty and strength are 
 not empty trifles, and none but a fool gives noble gifts 
 to another, only in order to throw them away." 
 
 Paulus gazed in astonishment at the youth, who up 
 to this moment had always unresistingly obeyed his 
 father and him, and he shook his head as he answered, 
 
 " So think the children of this world who stand far 
 from the Most High. In the image of God are we 
 
HOMO SUM. 27 
 
 made no doubt, but what child would kiss the image of 
 his father, when the father offers him his own living 
 lips ? " 
 
 Paulushad meant to say 'mother' instead of 'father/ 
 but he remembered in time that Hermas had early 
 lost the happiness of caressing a mother, and he had 
 hastily amended the phrase. He was one of those to 
 whom it is so painful to hurt another, that they never 
 touch a wounded soul unless to heal it, divining the seat 
 of even the most hidden pain. 
 
 He was accustomed to speak but little, but now he 
 went on eagerly : 
 
 " By so much as God is far above our miserable 
 selves, by so much is the contemplation of Him worth- 
 ier of the Christian than that of his own person. Oh ! 
 who is indeed so happy as to have wholly lost that self 
 and to be perfectly absorbed in God ! But it pursues 
 us, and when the soul fondly thinks itself already blend- 
 ed in union with the Most High it cries out ' Here am 
 I !' and drags our nobler part down again into the dust. 
 It is bad enough that we must hinder the flight of the 
 soul, and are forced to nourish and strengthen the perish- 
 able part of our being with bread and water and sloth- 
 ful sleep to the injury of the immortal part, however 
 much we may fast and watch. And shall we indulge 
 the flesh, to the detriment of the spirit, by granting it 
 ^ny of its demands that can easily be denied ? Only 
 he who despises and sacrifices his wretched self can, 
 when he has lost his baser self, by the Redeemer's grace, 
 find himself again in God." 
 
 Hermas had listened patiently to the anchorite, but 
 he now shook his head, and said : " I cannot under- 
 stand either you or my father. So long as I walk ot\ 
 
28 HOMO SUM. 
 
 this earth, I am I and no other. After death, no 
 doubt, but not till then, will a new and eternal life 
 begin." 
 
 " Not so," cried Paulus hastily, interrupting him. 
 "" That other and higher life of which you speak, does 
 not begin only after death for him who while still living 
 does not cease from dying, from mortifying the flesh, 
 and from subduing its lusts, from casting from him the 
 world and his baser self, and from seeking the Lord. It 
 has been vouchsafed to many even in the midst of life 
 to be born again to a higher existence. Look at me, 
 the basest of the base. I am not two but one, and yet 
 am I in the sight of the Lord as certainly another man 
 than I was before grace found me, as this young shoot, 
 which has grown from the roots of an overthrown palm- 
 tree is another tree than the rotten trunk. I was a 
 heathen and enjoyed every pleasure of the earth to the 
 utmost ; then I became a Christian ; the grace of the 
 Lord fell upon me, and I was born again, and became 
 a child again; but this time — the Redeemer be praised ! 
 — the child of the Lord. In the midst of life I died, I 
 rose again, I found the joys of Heaven. I had been 
 Menander, and like unto Saul, I became Paulus. All 
 that Menander loved — baths, feasts, theatres, horses and 
 chariots, games in the arena, anointed limbs, roses and 
 garlands, purple-garments, wine and the love of women 
 — lie behind me like some foul bog out of which a trav- 
 eller has struggled with difficulty. Not a vein of the old 
 man survives in the new, and a new life has begun for 
 me, mid-way to the grave ; nor for me only, but for all 
 pious men. For you too the hour will sound, in which 
 you will die to—" 
 
 " If only I, like you, had been a Menander," cried 
 
HOMO SUM. 29 
 
 Hermas, sharply interrupting the speaker : " How is it 
 possible to cast away that which I never possessed ?| In 
 order to die one first must live. This wretched life 
 seems to me contemptible, and I am weary of running 
 after you like a calf after a cow. I am free-born, and 
 of noble race, my father himself has told me so, and 1 
 am certainly no feebler in body than the citizens' sons 
 m the town with whom I went from the baths to the 
 wrestling-school." 
 
 " Did you go to the Palaestra ?" asked Paulus in 
 surprise. 
 
 "To the wrestling-school of Timagetus," cried Her- 
 mas, coloring. " From outside the gate I watched the 
 games of the youths as they wrestled, and threw heavy 
 disks at a mark. My eyes almost sprang out of my 
 head at the sight, and I could have cried out aloud 
 with envy and vexation, at having to stand there in my 
 ragged sheep-skin excluded from all competition. If 
 Pachomius had not just then come up, by the Lord I 
 must have sprung into the arena, and have challenged 
 the strongest of them all to wrestle with me, and I could 
 have thrown the disk much farther than the scented 
 puppy who won the victory and was crowned." 
 
 " You may thank, Pachomius," said Paulus laugh- 
 ing, " for having hindered you, for you would have 
 earned nothing in the arena but mockery and disgrace. 
 You are strong enough, certainly, but the art of the dis- 
 cobolus must be learned like any other. Hercules him- 
 self would be beaten at that game without practice, and 
 if he did not know the right way to handle the disk." 
 
 " It would not have been the first time I had thrown 
 one," cried the boy. " See, what I can do !" With 
 these words he stooped and raised one of the flat stones, 
 
.30 HOMO SUM. 
 
 which lay piled up to secure the pathway ; extending his 
 arm with all his strength, he flung the granite disk over 
 the precipice away into the abyss. 
 
 "There, you see," cried Paulus, who had watched 
 the throw carefully and not without some anxious ex- 
 citement. " However strong your arm may be, any 
 novice could throw farther than you if only he knew 
 the art of holding the discus. It is not so — not so ; it 
 must cut through the air like a knife with its sharp edge. 
 Look how you hold your hand, you throw like a woman ! 
 The wrist straight, and now your left foot behind, and 
 your knee bent ! see, how clumsy you are ! Here, give 
 me the stone. You take the discus so, then you bend 
 your body, and press down your knees like the arc of a 
 bow, so that every sinew in your body helps to speed 
 the shot when you let go. Aye — that is better, but it 
 is not quite right yet. First heave the discus with your 
 arm stretched out, then fix your eye on the mark; now 
 swing it out high behind you — stop ! once more ! your 
 arm must be more strongly strained before you throw. 
 That might pass, but you ought to be able to hit the 
 palm-tree yonder. Give me your discus, and that stone. 
 There; the unequal corners hinder its flight — now pay 
 attention !" Paulus spoke with growing eagerness, and 
 now he grasped the flat stone, as he might have done 
 many years since when no youth in Alexandria had been 
 his match in throwing the discus. 
 
 He bent his knees, stretched out his body, gave play 
 to his wrist, extended his arm to the utmost and hurled 
 the stone into space, while the clenched toes of his right 
 foot deeply dinted the soil. 
 
 But it fell to the ground before reaching the palm, 
 which Paulus had indicated as the mark. 
 
HOMO SUM. 31 
 
 " Wait ! " cried Hermas. " Let me try now to hit 
 the tree." 
 
 His stone whistled through the air, but it did not 
 even reach the mound, into which the palm-tree had 
 struck root. 
 
 Paulus shook his head disapprovingly, and in .his 
 turn seized a flat stone ; and now an eager contest began. 
 At every throw Hermas' stone flew farther, for he copied 
 his teacher's action and grasp with increasing skill, 
 while the older man's arm began to tire. At last Her- 
 mas for the second time hit the palm-tree, while Paulus 
 had failed to reach even the mound with his last fling. 
 
 The pleasure of the contest took stronger possession 
 of the anchorite ; he flung his raiment from him, and 
 seizing another stone he cried out — as though he were 
 standing once more in the wrestling school among his 
 old companions, all shining with their anointment. 
 
 "By the silver-bowed Apollo, and the arrow-speeding 
 Artemis, I will hit the palm-tree." 
 
 The missile sang through the air, his body sprang 
 back, and he stretched out his left arm to save his totter- 
 ing balance ; there was a crash, the tree quivered under 
 the blow, and Hermas shouted joyfully : " Wonderful ! 
 wonderful ! that was indeed a throw. The old Menan- 
 der is not dead ! Farewell — to-morrow we will try 
 again." 
 
 With these words Hermas quitted the anchorite, 
 and hastened with wide leaps down the hill in the oasis. 
 
 Paulus started at the words like a sleep-walker who 
 is suddenly wakened by hearing his name called. He 
 looked about him in bewilderment, as if he had to find 
 his way in some strange world. Drops of sweat stood 
 on his brow, and with sudden shame he snatched up 
 
2,2 HOMO SUM. 
 
 his garments that were lying on the ground, and cov- 
 ered his naked limbs. 
 
 For some time he stood gazing after Hermas, then 
 he clasped his brow in deep anguish and large tears ran 
 down upon his beard. 
 
 V What have I said?" he muttered to himself; 
 " That every vein of the old man in me was extirpated ? 
 Fool ! vain madman that I am. They named me Paulus, 
 and I am in truth Saul, aye, and worse than Saul !" 
 
 With these words he threw himself on his knees r 
 pressing his forehead against the hard rock, and began 
 to pray. He felt as if he had been flung from a height 
 on to spears and lances, as if his heart and soul were 
 bleeding, and while he remained there, dissolved in grief 
 and prayer, accusing and condemning himself, he felt 
 not the burning of the sun as it mounted in the sky, 
 heeded not the flight of time, nor heard the approach 
 of a party of pilgrims, who, under the guidance of bishop 
 Agapitus, were visiting the Holy Places. The palmers 
 saw him at prayer, heard his sobs, and, marvelling 
 at his piety, at a sign from their pastor they knelt down 
 behind him. 
 
 When Paulus at last arose, he perceived with sur- 
 prise and alarm the witnesses of his devotions, and 
 approached Agapitus to kiss his robe. But the bishop 
 said: " Not so; he that is most pious is the greatest 
 among us. My friends, let us bow down before this 
 saintly man !" 
 
 The pilgrims obeyed his command. Paulus hid his 
 face in his hands and sobbed out : " Wretch, wretch 
 that I am!" 
 
 And the pilgrims lauded his humility, and followed 
 their leader who left the spot. 
 
HOMO SUM. ; 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Hermas had hastened onwards without delay. He 
 had already reached the last bend of the path he had 
 followed down the ravine, and he saw at his feet the 
 long narrow valley and the gleaming waters of the 
 stream, which here fertilized the soil of the desert. He 
 looked down on lofty palms and tamarisk shrubs in- 
 numerable, among which rose the houses of the inhab- 
 itants, surrounded by their little gardens and small 
 carefully-irrigated fields; already he could hear the 
 crowing of a cock and the hospitable barking of a dog, 
 sounds which came to him like a welcome from the 
 midst of that life for which he yearned, accustomed as 
 he was to be surrounded day and night by the deep 
 and lonely stillness of the rocky heights. 
 
 He stayed his steps, and his eyes followed the thin 
 columns of smoke, which floated tremulously up in the 
 clear light of the ever mounting sun from the numerous 
 hearths that lay below him. 
 
 "They are cooking breakfast now," thought he, 
 "the wives for their husbands, the mothers for their 
 children, and there, where that dark smoke rises, very 
 likely a splendid feast is being prepared for guests ; but 
 I am nowhere at home, and no one will invite me in." 
 
 The contest with Paulus had excited and cheered 
 him, but the sight of the city filled his young heart with 
 renewed bitterness, and his lips trembled as he looked 
 down on his sheepskin and his unwashed limbs. With 
 hasty resolve he turned his back on the oasis and hur- 
 
34 HOMO SUM. 
 
 ried up the mountain. By the side of the brooklet that 
 he knew of he threw off his coarse garment, let the cool 
 water flow over his body, washed himself carefully and 
 with much enjoyment, stroked down his thick hair with 
 his fingers, and then hurried down again into the 
 valley. 
 
 The gorge through which he had descended de- 
 bouched by a hillock that rose from the valley-plain ; 
 a small newly-built church leaned against its eastern 
 declivity, and it was fortified on all sides by walls and 
 dikes, behind which the citizens found shelter when they 
 were threatened by the Saracen robbers of the oasis. 
 This hill passed for a particularly sacred spot. Moses 
 was supposed to have prayed on its summit during the 
 battle with the Amalekites while his arms were held up 
 by Aaron and Hur. 
 
 But there were other notable spots in the neighbor- 
 hood of the oasis. There farther to the north was the 
 rock whence Moses had struck the water ; there higher 
 up, and more to the south-east, was the hill, where the 
 Lord had spoken to the law-giver face to face, and 
 where he had seen the burning bush ; there again was 
 the spring where he had met the daughters of Jethro, 
 Zippora and Ledja, so called in the legend. Pious 
 pilgrims came to these holy places in great numbers, 
 and among them many natives of the peninsula, partic- 
 ularly Nabateans, who had previously visited the holy 
 mountain in order to sacrifice on its summit to their 
 gods, the sun, moon, and planets. At the outlet, to- 
 wards the north, stood a castle, which ever since the 
 Syrian Prefect, Cornelius Palma, had subdued Arabia 
 Petraea in the time of Trajan, had been held by a 
 Roman garrison for the protection of the blooming city 
 
HOMO SUM. 35 
 
 of the desert against the incursions of the marauding 
 Saracens and Blemmyes. 
 
 But the citizens of Pharan themselves had taken 
 measures for the security of their property. On the 
 topmost cliffs of the jagged crown of the giant mountain 
 — the most favorable spots for a look-out far and wide 
 — they placed sentinels, who day and night scanned the 
 distance, so as to give a warning-signal in case of ap- 
 proaching danger. Each house resembled a citadel, 
 for it was built of strong masonry, and the younger 
 men were all well exercised bowmen. The more dis- 
 tinguished families dwelt near the church-hill, and there 
 too stood the houses of the Bishop Agapitus, and of 
 the city councillors of Pharan. 
 
 Among these the Senator Petrus enjoyed the great- 
 est respect, partly by reason of his solid abilities, and 
 of his possessions in quarries, garden-ground, date- 
 palms, and cattle; partly in consequence of the rare 
 qualities of his wife, the deaconess Dorothea, the grand- 
 daughter of the long-deceased and venerable Bishop 
 Chaeremon, who had fled hither with his wife during the 
 persecution of the Christians under Decius, and who 
 had converted many of the Pharanites to the knowledge 
 of the Redeemer. 
 
 The house of Petrus was of strong and well-joined 
 stone, and the palm garden adjoining was carefully 
 tended. Twenty slaves, many camels, and even two 
 horses belonged to him, and the centurion in com- 
 mand of the Imperial garrison, the Gaul Phoebicius, 
 and his wife Sirona, lived as lodgers under his roof; 
 not quite to the satisfaction of the councillor, for the 
 centurion was no Christian, but a worshipper of Mithras, 
 in whose mysteries the wild Gaul had risen to the grade 
 
 3 * 
 
$6 HOMO SUM. 
 
 of a ' Lion,' whence his people, and with them the Phar- 
 anites in general, were wont to speak of him as " the 
 Lion." 
 
 His predecessor had been an officer of much lower 
 rank but a believing Christian, whom Petrus had him- 
 self requested to live in his house, and when, about a 
 year since, the Lion Phcebicius had taken the place of 
 the pious Pankratius, the senator could not refuse him 
 the quarters, which had become a right. 
 
 Hermas went shyly and timidly towards the court of 
 Petrus' house, and his embarrassment increased when he 
 found himself in the hall of the stately stone-house, 
 which he had entered without let or hindrance, and did 
 not know which way to turn. There was no one there 
 to direct him, and he dared not go up the stairs which 
 led to the upper story, although it seemed that Petrus 
 must be there. Yes, there was no doubt, for he heard 
 talking overhead and clearly distinguished the senator's 
 deep voice. Hermas advanced, and set his foot on the 
 first step of the stairs ; but he had scarcely begun to go 
 up with some decision, and feeling ashamed of his 
 bashfulness, when he heard a door fly open just above 
 him, and from it there poured a flood of fresh laughing 
 children's voices, like a pent up stream when the miller 
 opens the sluice gate. 
 
 He glanced upwards in surprise, but there was no 
 time for consideration, for the shouting troop of released 
 little ones had already reached the stairs. In front of 
 all hastened a beautiful young woman with golden hair; 
 she was laughing gaily, and held a gaudily-dressed doll 
 high above her head. She came backwards towards 
 the steps, turning her fair face beaming with fun and 
 delight towards the children, who, full of their longing, 
 
HOMO SUM. 37 
 
 half demanding, half begging, half laughing, half crying, 
 shouted in confusion, " Let us be, Sirona," " Do not 
 take it away again, Sirona," " Do stay here, Sirona," 
 again and again, " Sirona — Sirona." 
 
 A lovely six year old maiden stretched up as far as 
 she could to reach the round white arm that held the 
 play-thing ; with her left hand, which was free, she gaily 
 pushed away three smaller children, who tried to cling 
 to her knees and exclaimed, still stepping backwards, 
 ft No, no ; you shall not have it till it has a new gown ; 
 it shall be as long and as gay as the Emperors's robe. 
 Let me go, Caecilia, or you will fall down as naughty 
 Nikon did the other day." 
 
 By this time she had reached the steps ; she turned 
 suddenly, and with outstretched arms she stopped the 
 way of the narrow stair on which Hernias was stand- 
 ding, gazing open-mouthed at the merry scene above 
 his head. Just as Sirona was preparing to run down, 
 she perceived him and started ; but when she saw that 
 the anchorite from pure embarrassment could find no 
 words in which to answer her question as to what he 
 wanted, she laughed heartily again and called out: 
 " Come up, we shall not hurt you — shall we children ?" 
 
 Meanwhile Hermas had found courage enough to 
 give utterance to his wish to speak with the senator, 
 and the young woman, who looked with complacency 
 on his strong and youthful frame, offered to conduct 
 him to him. 
 
 Petrus had been talking to his grown up elder sons; 
 they were tall men, but their father was even taller than 
 they, and of unusual breadth of shoulder. 
 
 While the young men were speaking, he stroked his 
 short grey beard and looked down at the ground in 
 
$8 HOMO SUM. 
 
 sombre gravity, as it might have seemed to the careless 
 observer; but any one who looked closer might quick- 
 ly perceive that not seldom a pleased smile, though not 
 less often a somewhat bitter one, played upon the lips 
 of the prudent and judicious man. He was one of 
 those who can play with their children like a young 
 mother, take the sorrows of another as much to heart 
 as if they were their own, and yet who look so gloomy, 
 and allow themselves to make such sharp speeches, 
 that only those who are on terms of perfect confidence 
 with them, cease to misunderstand them and fear them. 
 There was something fretting the soul of this man, who 
 nevertheless possessed all that could contribute to 
 human happiness. His was a thankful nature, and yet 
 he was conscious that he might have been destined to 
 something greater than fate had permitted him to achieve 
 or to be. He had remained a stone-cutter, but his sons 
 had both completed their education in good schools in 
 Alexandria. The elder, Antonius, who already had a 
 house of his own and a wife and children, was an archi- 
 tect and artist-mechanic ; the younger, Polykarp, was a 
 gifted young sculptor. The noble church of the oasis- 
 city had been built under the direction of the elder ; 
 Polykarp, who had only come home a month since, was 
 preparing to establish and carry on works of great ex- 
 tent in his father's quarries, for he had received a com- 
 mission to decorate the new court of the Sebasteion or 
 Caesareum, as it was called — a grand pile in Alexandria 
 — with twenty granite lions'. More than thirty artists 
 had competed with him for this work, bufc>the prize was 
 unanimously adjudged to his models by qualified judges. 
 The architect whose function it was to construct the 
 colonnades and pavement of the court was his friend, 
 
HOMO SUM. 39 
 
 and had agreed to procure the blocks of granite, the 
 flags and the columns which he required from Petrus' 
 quarries, and not, as had formerly been the custom, from 
 those of Syene by the first Cataract. 
 
 Antonius and Polykarp were now standing with 
 their father before a large table, explaining to him a 
 plan which they had worked out together and traced 
 on the thin wax surface of a wooden tablet. The 
 young architect's proposal was to bridge over a deep 
 but narrow gorge, which the beasts of burden were 
 obliged to avoid by making a wide circuit, and so to 
 make a new way from the quarries to the sea, which 
 should be shorter by a third than the old one. The 
 cost of this structure would soon be recouped by the 
 saving in labor, and with perfect certainty, if only the 
 transport-ships were laden at Clysma with a profitable 
 return freight of Alexandrian manufactures, instead of 
 returning empty as they had hitherto done. Petrus, 
 who could shine as a speaker in the council-meetings, 
 in private life spoke but little. At each of his son's new 
 projects he raised his eyes to the speaker's face, as if to 
 see whether the young man had not lost his wits, while 
 his mouth, only half hidden by his grey beard, smiled 
 approvingly. 
 
 When Antonius began to unfold his plan for remedy- 
 ing the inconvenience of the ravine that impeded the 
 way, the senator muttered, " Only get feathers to grow 
 on the slaves, and turn the black ones into ravens and 
 the white ones into gulls, and then they might fly across. 
 What do not .people learn in the metropolis!" 
 
 When he heard the word ' bridge ' he stared at the 
 young artist. "The only question," said he, "is whether 
 Heaven will lend us a rainbow." But when Poly- 
 
40 HOMO SUM. 
 
 karp proposed to get some cedar trunks from Syria 
 through his friend in Alexandria, and when his elder 
 son explained his drawings of the arch with which he 
 promised to span the gorge and make it strong and safe, 
 he followed their words with attention ; at the same 
 time he knit his eyebrows as gloomily and looked as 
 stern as if he were listening to some narrative of crime. 
 Still, he let them speak on to the end, and though at 
 first he only muttered that it was mere "fancy-work" or 
 "Aye, indeed, if I were the emperor;" he afterwards 
 asked clear and precise questions, to which he received 
 positive and well considered answers. Antonius proved 
 by figures that the profit on the delivery of material for 
 the Csesareum only would cover more than three quar- 
 ters of the outlay. Then Polykarp began to speak and 
 declared that the granite of the Holy Mountain was 
 finer in color and in larger blocks than that from Syene. 
 
 " We work cheaper here than at the Cataract," in- 
 terrupted Antonius. " And the transport of the blocks 
 will not come too dear when we have the bridge and 
 command the road to the sea, and avail ourselves of 
 the canal of Trajan, which joins the Nile to the Red 
 Sea, and which in a few months will again be navigable." 
 
 " And if my lions are a success," added Polykarp, 
 " and if Zenodotus is satisfied with our stone and our 
 work, it may easily happen that we outstrip Syene in 
 competition, and that some of the enormous orders 
 that now flow from Constan tine's new residence to the 
 quarries at Syene, may find their way to us." 
 
 " Polykarp is not over sanguine," continued An- 
 tonius, " for the emperor is beautifying and adding to 
 Byzantium with eager haste. Whoever erects a new 
 house has a yearly allowance of corn, and in order to 
 
homo sum. 41 
 
 attract folks of our stamp — of whom he cannot get 
 enough — he promises entire exemption from taxation to 
 all sculptors, architects, and even to skilled laborers. 
 If we finish the blocks and pillars here exactly to the 
 designs, they will take up no superfluous room in the 
 ships, and no one will be able to deliver them so cheap- 
 ly as we." 
 
 " No, nor so good," cried Polykarp, " for you your- 
 self are an artist, father, and understand stone-work as 
 well as any man. I never saw a finer or more equally 
 colored granite than the block you picked out for my 
 first lion. I am finishing it here on the spot, and I 
 fancy it will make a show. Certainly it will be difficult 
 to take a foremost place among the noble works of 
 the most splendid period of art, which already fill the 
 Csesareum, but I will do my best." 
 
 " The Lions will be admirable," cried Antonius with 
 a glance of pride at his brother. •' Nothing like them 
 has been done by any one these ten years, and I know 
 the Alexandrians. If the master's work is praised that 
 is made out of granite from the Holy Mountain, all the 
 world will have granite from thence and from no where 
 else. It all depends on whether the transport of the 
 stone to the sea can be made less difficult and costly." 
 
 " Let us try it then," said Petrus, who during his 
 son's talk had walked up and down before them in si- 
 lence. " Let us try the building of the bridge in the 
 name of the Lord. We will work out the road if the 
 municipality will declare themselves ready to bear half 
 the cost; not otherwise, and I tell you frankly, you 
 have both grown most able men." 
 
 The younger son grasped his father's hand and 
 pressed it with warm affection to his lips. Petrus hastily 
 
42 HOMO SUM. 
 
 stroked his brown locks, then he offered his strong right 
 hand to his eldest-born and said: "We must increase 
 the number of our slaves. Call your mother, Polykarp." 
 
 The youth obeyed with cheerful alacrity, and when 
 Dame Dorothea — who was sitting at the loom with her 
 daughter Marthana and some of her female slaves — saw 
 him rush into the women's room with a glowing face, 
 she rose with youthful briskness in spite of her stout 
 and dignified figure, and called out to her son : 
 
 " He has approved of your plans ? " 
 
 " Bridge and all, mother, everything," cried the 
 young man. " Finer granite for my lions, than my 
 father has picked out for me is nowhere to be found, 
 and how glad I am for Antonius ! only we must have 
 patience about the roadway. He wants to speak to 
 you at once." 
 
 Dorothea signed to her son to moderate his ecstasy, 
 for he had seized her hand, and was pulling her away 
 with him, but the tears that stood in her kind eyes tes- 
 tified how deeply she sympathized in her favorite's ex- 
 citement. 
 
 " Patience, patience, I am coming directly," cried 
 she, drawing away her hand in order to arrange her 
 dress and her grey hair, which was abundant and care- 
 fully dressed, and formed a meet setting for her still 
 pleasing and unwrinkled face. 
 
 " I knew it would be so ; when you have a reason- 
 able thing to propose to your father, he will always 
 listen to you and agree with you without my inter- 
 vention; women should not mix themselves up with 
 men's work. Youth draws a strong bow and often 
 shoots beyond the mark. It would be a pretty thing if 
 out of foolish affection for you I were to try to play the 
 
HOMO SUM. 43 
 
 siren that should ensnare the steersman of the house — 
 your father — with flattering words. You laugh at the 
 grey-haired siren ? But love overlooks the ravages of 
 years and has a good memory for all that was once 
 pleasing. Besides, men have not always wax in their 
 ears when they should have. Come now to your 
 father." 
 
 Dorothea went out past Polykarp and her daughter. 
 The former held his sister back by the hand and asked: 
 
 " Was not Sirona with you ? " 
 
 The sculptor tried to appear quite indifferent, but 
 he blushed as he spoke ; Marthana observed this and 
 replied not without a roguish glance : " She did show 
 us her pretty face ; but important business called her 
 away." 
 
 " Sirona ? " asked Polykarp incredulously. 
 
 11 Certainly, why not ! " answered Marthana laughing. 
 " She had to sew a new gown for the children's doll." 
 
 " Why do you mock at her kindness ? " said Poly- 
 karp reproachfully. 
 
 " How sensitive you are ! " said Marthana softly. 
 " Sirona is as kind and sweet as an angel ; but you had 
 better look at .her rather less, for she is not one of us, 
 and repulsive as the choleric centurion is to me — " 
 
 She said no more, for Dame Dorothea, having 
 reached the door of the sitting-room, looked around 
 for her children. 
 
 Petrus received his wife with no less gravity than 
 was usual with him, but there was an arch sparkle in 
 his half closed eyes as he asked : " You scarcely know 
 what is going on, I suppose ?" 
 
 " You are madmen, who would fain take Heaven 
 by storm," she answered gaily. 
 
44 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " If the undertaking fails," said Petrus, pointing to 
 his sons, " those young ones will feel the loss longer 
 than we shall." 
 
 " But it will succeed," cried Dorothea. "An old 
 commander and young soldiers can win any battle." 
 She held out her small plump hand with frank briskness 
 to her husband, he clasped it cheerily and said: "I 
 think I can carry the project for the road through the 
 Senate. To build our bridge we must also procure help- 
 ing hands, and for that we need your aid, Dorothea. 
 Our slaves will not suffice." 
 
 " Wait," cried the lady eagerly; she went to the 
 window and called, " Jethro, Jethro ! " 
 
 The person thus addressed, the old house-steward, 
 appeared, and Dorothea began to discuss with him as to 
 which of the inhabitants of the oasis might be disposed 
 to let them have some able-bodied men, and whether it 
 might not be possible to employ one or another of the 
 house-slaves at the building. 
 
 All that she said was judicious and precise, and 
 showed that she herself superintended her household in 
 every detail, and was accustomed to command with 
 complete freedom. 
 
 " That tall Anubis then is really indispensable in the 
 stable ? " she asked in conclusion. The steward, who 
 up to this moment had spoken shortly and intelligently, 
 hesitated to answer; at the same time he looked up at 
 Petrus, who, sunk in the contemplation of the plan, 
 had his back to him ; his glance, and a deprecating 
 movement, expressed very clearly that he had some- 
 thing to tell, but feared to speak in the presence of his 
 master. Dame Dorothea was quick of comprehension, 
 and she quite understood Jethro's meaning; it was for 
 
HOMO SUM. 45 
 
 that very reason that she said with more of surprise 
 than displeasure : " What does the man mean with his 
 winks ? What I may hear, Petrus may hear too." 
 
 The senator turned, and looked at the steward from 
 head to foot with so dark a glance, that he drew back, 
 and began to speak quickly. But he was interrupted 
 by the children's clamors on the stairs and by Sirona, 
 who brought Hermas to the senator, and said laugh- 
 ing : " I found this great fellow on the stairs, he was 
 seeking you." 
 
 Petrus looked at the youth, not very kindly, and 
 asked : " Who are you ? what is your business ? " 
 
 Hermas struggled in vain for speech j the presence 
 of so many human beings, of whom three were women, 
 filled him with the utmost confusion. His fingers 
 twisted the woolly curls on his sheep-skin, and his lips 
 moved but gave no sound ; at last he succeeded in 
 stammering out, " I am the son of old Stephanus, who 
 was wounded in the last raid of the Saracens. My 
 father has hardly slept these five nights, and now Paulus 
 has sent me to you — the pious Paulus of Alexandria — 
 but you know — and so I — " 
 
 " I see, I see," said Petrus with encouraging kind- 
 ness. " You want some medicine for the old man. 
 See Dorothea, what a fine young fellow he is grown, 
 this is the little man that the Antiochian took with him 
 up the mountain." 
 
 Hermas colored, and drew himself up ; then he ob- 
 served with great satisfaction that he was taller than 
 the senator's sons, who were of about the same age as 
 he, and for whom he had a stronger feeling, allied to 
 aversion and fear, than even for their stern father. 
 Polykarp measured him with a glance, and said aloud to 
 
46 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "Sirona, with whom he had exchanged a greeting, and 
 off whom he had never once taken his eyes since she 
 had come in : " If we could get twenty slaves with 
 such shoulders as those, we should get on well. There 
 is work to be done here, you big fellow — " 
 
 " My name is not ' fellow,' but Hermas," said the 
 anchorite, and the veins of his forehead began to swell. 
 
 Polykarp felt that his father's visitor was something 
 more than his poor clothing would seem to indicate, 
 and that he had hurt his feelings. He had certainly 
 seen some old anchorites, who led a contemplative and 
 penitential life up on the sacred mountain, but it had 
 never occurred to him that a strong youth could be- 
 long to the brotherhood of hermits. So he said to him 
 kindly : " Hermas — is that your name ? We all use our 
 hands here and labor is no disgrace; what is your 
 handicraft ? " 
 
 This question roused the young anchorite to the 
 highest excitement, and Dame Dorothea, who perceived 
 what was passing in his mind, said with quick decision : 
 " He nurses his sick father. That is what you do, my son, 
 is it not ? Petrus will not refuse you his help." 
 
 Certainly not," the senator added, " I will accom- 
 pany you by-and-bye to see him. You must know, 
 my children, that this youth's father was a great Lord, 
 who gave up rich possessions in order to forget the 
 world, where he had gone through bitter experiences, 
 and to serve God in his own way, which we ought to 
 respect though it is not our own. Sit down there, my 
 son. First we must finish some important business, 
 and then I will go with you." 
 
 " We live high up on the mountain," stammered 
 Hermas. 
 
HOMO SUM. 47 
 
 "Then the air will be all the purer," replied the 
 senator. " But stay — perhaps the old man is alone — 
 no ? The good Paulus, you say, is with him ? Then 
 he is in good hands, and you may wait." 
 
 For a moment Petrus stood considering, then he 
 beckoned to his sons, and said, " Antonius, go at once 
 and see about some slaves — you, Polykarp, find some 
 strong beasts of burden. You are generally rather 
 easy with your money, and in this case it is worth 
 while to buy the dearest. The sooner you return well 
 supplied the better. Action must not halt behind de- 
 cision, but follow it quickly and sharply, as the sound 
 follows the blow. You, Marthana, mix some of the 
 brown fever-potion, and prepare some bandages ; you 
 have the key." 
 
 " I will help her," cried Sirona, who was glad to 
 prove herself useful, and who was sincerely sorry for 
 the sick old hermit ; besides, Hermas seemed to her like 
 a discovery of her own, for whom she involuntarily felt 
 more consideration since she had learned that he was 
 the son of a man of rank. 
 
 While the young women were busy at the medicine- 
 cupboard, Antonius and Polykarp left the room. 
 
 The latter had already crossed the threshold, when 
 he turned once more, and cast a long look at Sirona. 
 Then, with a hasty movement, he went on, closed the 
 door, and with a heavy sigh descended the stairs. 
 
 As soon as his sons were gone, Petrus turned to the 
 steward again. 
 
 " What is wrong with the slave Anubis ? " he asked. 
 
 "He is — wounded, hurt," answered Jethro, "and for 
 the next few days will be useless. The goat-girl Miriam 
 — the wild cat— cut his forehead with her reaping hook." 
 
48 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " Why did I not hear 01 this sooner ? " cried Do- 
 rothea reprovingly. " What have you done to the girl ? % * 
 
 " We have shut her up in the hay loft," answered 
 Jethro, " and there she is raging and storming." The 
 mistress shook her head disapprovingly. " The girl 
 will not be improved by that treatment," she said. " Go 
 and bring her to me." 
 
 As soon as the intendant had left the room, she ex- 
 claimed, turning to her husband, "One may well be 
 perplexed about these poor creatures, when one sees 
 how they behave to each other. I have seen it a thou- 
 sand times ! No judgment is so hard as that dealt by 
 a slave to slaves ! " 
 
 Jethro and a woman now led Miriam into the room. 
 The girl's hands were bound with thick cords, and dry 
 grass clung to her dress and rough black hair. A dark 
 fire glowed m her eyes, and the muscles of her face 
 moved incessantly, as if she had St. Vitus' dance. When 
 Dorothea looked at her she drew herself up defiantly, 
 and looked around the room, as if to estimate the 
 strength of her enemies. 
 
 She then perceived Hermas , the blood left her lips, 
 with a violent effort she tore her slender hands out of 
 the loops that confined them, covering her face with 
 them, and 3ed to the door. But Jethro put himself in 
 her way, and seized her shoulder with a strong grasp. 
 Miriam shrieked aloud, and the senator's daughter, who 
 had set down the medicines she had had in her hand, 
 and had watched the girl's movements with much sym- 
 pathy, hastened towards her. She pushed away the 
 old man's hand, and said, " Do not be frightened, 
 Miriam. Whatever you may have done, my father can 
 forgive you." 
 
HOMO SUM. 
 
 49 
 
 Her voice had a tone of sisterly affection, and the 
 shepherdess followed Marthana unresistingly to the 
 table, on which the plans for the bridge were lying, and 
 stood there by her side. 
 
 For a minute all were silent ; at last Dame Dorothea 
 went up to Miriam, and asked, " What did they do to 
 you, my poor child, that you could so forget yourself? " 
 
 Miriam could not understand what was happening 
 to her ; she had been prepared for scoldings and blows, 
 nay for bonds and imprisonment, and now these gentle 
 words and kind looks ! Her defiant spirit was quelled, 
 her eyes met the friendly eyes of her mistress, and she. 
 said in a low voice : " He had followed me for such a 
 long time, and wanted to ask you for me as his wife ; 
 but I cannot bear him — I hate him as I do all your 
 slaves." At these words her eyes sparkled wildly again, 
 and with her old fire she went on, " I wish I had only 
 hit him with a stick instead of a sickle ; but I took 
 what first came to hand to defend myself. When a 
 man touches me — I cannot bear it, it is horrible, dread- 
 ful ! Yesterday I came home later than usual with the 
 beasts, and by the time I had milked the goats, and 
 was going to bed, every one in the house was asleep. 
 Then Anubis met me,' and began chattering about love; 
 I repelled him, but he seized me, and held me with his 
 hand here on my head and wanted to kiss me ; then 
 my blood rose, I caught hold of my reaping hook, that 
 hung by my side, and it was not till I saw him roaring 
 on the ground, that I saw I had done wrong. How it 
 happened I really cannot tell — something seemed to 
 rise up in me — something — I don't know what to call 
 it. It drives me on as the wind drives the leaves that 
 lie on the road, and I cannot help it. The best thing 
 
50 HOMO SUM. 
 
 you can do is to let me die, for then you would be safe 
 once for all from my wickedness, and all would be over 
 and done with." 
 
 " How can you speak so ? " interrupted Marthana. 
 "You are wild and ungovernable, but not wicked." 
 
 " Only ask him ! " cried the girl, pointing with flash- 
 ing eyes to Hermas, who, on his part, looked down at 
 the floor in confusion. The senator exchanged a hasty 
 glance with his wife ; they were accustomed to under- 
 stand each other without speech, and Dorothea said : 
 " He who feels that he is not what he ought to be, 
 is already on the high-road to amendment. We let you 
 keep the goats because you were always running after 
 the flocks, and never can rest in the house. You are 
 up on the mountain before morning-prayer, and never 
 come home till after supper is over, and no one takes 
 any thought for the better part of you. Half of your 
 guilt recoils upon us, and we have no right to punish 
 you. You need not be so astonished ; every one some- 
 times does wrong. Petrus and I are human beings like 
 you, neither more nor less ; but we are Christians, and 
 it is our duty to look after the souls which God has en- 
 trusted to our care, be they our children or our slaves. 
 You must go no more up the mountain, but shall stay 
 with us in the house. I shall willingly forgive your 
 hasty deed if Petrus does not think it necessary to 
 punish you." 
 
 The senator gravely shook his head in sign of agree- 
 ment, and Dorothea turned to enquire of Jethro : " Is 
 Anubis badly wounded and does he need any care ? " 
 
 " He is lying in a fever and wanders in 'his talk," 
 was the answer. " Old Praxinoa is cooling his wound 
 with water." 
 
HOMO SUM. . 51 
 
 " Then Miriam can take her place and try to remedy 
 the mischief which she was the cause of," said Dorothea. 
 Half of your guilt will be atoned for, girl, if Anubis 
 recovers under your care. I will come presently with 
 Marthana, and show you how to make a bandage." 
 The shepherdess cast down her eyes, and passively 
 allowed herself to be conducted to the wounded man. 
 
 Meanwhile Marthana had prepared the brown mix- 
 ture. Petrus had his staff and felt-hat brought to him, 
 gave Hermas the medicine and desired him to follow 
 him. 
 
 Sirona looked after the couple as they went. " What 
 a pity for such a fine lad ! " she exclaimed. " A purple 
 •coat would suit him better than that wretched sheep- 
 skin." 
 
 The mistress shrugged her shoulders, and signing to 
 her daughter said : " Come to work, Marthana, the sun 
 is already high. How the days fly! the older one 
 grows the quicker the hours hurry away." 
 
 " I must be very young then," said the centurion's 
 wife " for in this wilderness time seems to me to creep 
 along frightfully slow. One day is the same as another, 
 and I often feel as if life were standing perfectly still, 
 and my heart pulses with it. What should I be without 
 your house and the children ? — always the same moun- 
 tain, the same palm-trees, the same faces ! — " 
 
 " But the mountain is glorious, the trees are beau- 
 tiful ! " answered Dorothea. " And if we love the 
 people with whom we are in daily intercourse, even 
 here we may be contented and happy. At least we our- 
 selves are, so far as the difficulties of life allow. I have 
 often told you, what you want is work." 
 
 " Work ! but for whom ? " asked Sirona. " If indeed 
 
52 HOMO SUM. 
 
 I had children like you ! Even in Rome I was not 
 happy, far from it ; and yet there was plenty to do and 
 to think about. Here a procession, there a theatre; but 
 here ! And for whom should I dress even ? My jewels 
 grow dull in my chest, and the moths eat my best 
 clothes. I am making doll's clothes now of my colored 
 cloak for your little ones. If some demon were to 
 transform me into a hedge-hog or a grey owl, it would 
 be all the same to me." 
 
 " Do not be so sinful," said Dorothea gravely, but 
 looking with kindly admiration at the golden hair and 
 lovely sweet face of the young woman. " It ought to be 
 a pleasure to you to dress yourself for your husband." 
 
 " For him ? " said Sirona. " He never looks' at me, 
 or if he does it is only to abuse me. The only wonder 
 to me is that I can still be merry at all j nor am I, 
 except in your house, and not there even but when I 
 forget him altogether." 
 
 " I will not hear such things said — not another 
 word," interrupted Dorothea severely. " Take the linen 
 and cooling lotion, Marthana, we will go and bind up 
 Anubis' wound." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Petrus went up the mountain side with Hermas. 
 The old man followed the youth, who showed him the 
 way, and as he raised his eyes from time to time, he 
 glanced with admiration at his guide's broad shoulders 
 and elastic limbs. The road grew broader when it 
 reached a little mountain plateau, and from thence the 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 two men walked on side by side, but for some time 
 without speaking till the senator asked : " How long 
 now has your father lived up on the mountain ? " 
 
 " Many years," answered Hermas. " But I do not 
 know how many — and it is all one. No one enquires 
 about time up here among us." 
 
 The senator stood still a moment and measured his 
 companion with a glance. 
 
 " You have been with your father ever since he 
 came ? " he asked. 
 
 " He never lets me out of his sight ; " replied Her- 
 mas. " I have been only twice into the oasis, even to 
 go to the church." 
 
 " Then you have been to no school ? " 
 
 "To what school should I go! My father has 
 taught me to read the Gospels and I could write, but I 
 have nearly forgotten how. Of what use would it be 
 to me ? We live like praying beasts." 
 
 Deep bitterness sounded in the last words, and 
 Petrus could see into the troubled spirit of his com- 
 panion, overflowing as it was with weary disgust, and 
 he perceived how the active powers of youth revolted 
 in aversion against the slothful waste of life, to which 
 he was condemned. He was grieved for the boy, and 
 he was not one of those who pass by those in peril 
 without helping them. Then he thought of his own 
 sons, who had grown up in the exercise and fulfilment 
 of serious duties, and he owned to himself that the fine 
 young fellow by his side was in no way their inferior, 
 and needed nothing but to be guided aright. He 
 thoughtfully looked first at the youth and then on the 
 ground, and muttered unintelligible words into his grey 
 beard as they walked on. Suddenly he drew himself 
 
54 HOMO SUM. 
 
 up and nodded decisively ; he would make an attempt 
 to save Hermas, and faithful to his own nature, action 
 trod on the heels of resolve. Where the little level 
 ended the road divided, one path continued to lead up- 
 wards, the other deviated to the valley and ended at 
 the quarries. Petrus was for taking the latter, but 
 Hermas cried out, " That is not the way to our cave ; 
 you must follow me." 
 
 " Follow thou me ! " replied the senator, and the 
 words were spoken with a tone and expression, that left 
 no doubt in the youth's mind as to their double mean- 
 ing. " The day is yet before us, and we will see what 
 my laborers are doing. Do you know the spot where 
 they quarry the stone ? " 
 
 " How should I not know it ? " said Hermas, pass- 
 ing the senator to lead the way. " I know every path 
 from our mountain to the oasis, and to the sea. A pan- 
 ther had its lair in the ravine behind your quarries." 
 
 " So we have learnt," said Petrus. " The thievish 
 beasts have slaughtered two young camels, and the 
 people can neither catch them in their toils nor run 
 them down with dogs." 
 
 " They will leave you in peace now," said the boy 
 laughing. " I brought down the male from the rock up 
 there with an arrow, and I found the mother in a hollow 
 with her young ones. I had a harder job wi£h her; my 
 knife is so bad, and the copper blade bent wi/h the blow ; 
 I had to strangle the gaudy devil with my- hands, and 
 she tore my shoulder and bit my arm. Look ! there are 
 the scars. But thank God, my wounds heal quicker 
 than my father's. Paulus says, I am like an earth-worm; 
 when it is cut in two the two halves say good-bye to 
 each other, and crawl off sound and gay, one one way, 
 
HOMO SUM. 55 
 
 and the other another way. The young panthers were 
 so funny and helpless, I would not kill them, but I did 
 them up in my sheepskin, and brought them to my 
 father. He laughed at the little beggars, and then a 
 Nabataean took them to be sold at Clysma to a mer- 
 chant from Rome. There and at Byzantium, there is a 
 demand for all kinds of living beasts of prey. I got 
 some money for them, and for the skins of the old ones, 
 and kept it to pay for my journey, when I went with 
 the others to Alexandria to ask the blessing of the new 
 Patriarch." 
 
 " You went to the metropolis ? " asked Petrus. . You 
 saw the great structures, that secure the coast from the 
 inroads of the sea, the tall Pharos with the far-shining 
 fire, the strong bridges, the churches, the palaces and 
 temples with their obelisks, pillars, and beautiful paved 
 courts ? Did it never enter your mind to think that it 
 would be a proud thing to construct such buildings ? " 
 
 Hermas shook his head. " Certainly I would rather 
 live in an airy house with colonnades than in our dingy 
 cavern, but building would never be in my way. 
 What a long time it takes to put one stone on another ! 
 I am not patient, and when I leave my father I will do 
 something that shall win me fame. But there are the 
 quarries — " Petrus did rtot let his companion finish his 
 sentence, but interrupted him with all the warmth of 
 youth, exclaiming : " And do you mean to say that 
 fame cannot be won by the arts of building ? Look 
 there at the blocks and flags, here at the pillars of hard 
 stone. These are all to be sent to Aila, and there my 
 son Antonius, the elder of the two that you saw just 
 now, is going to build a House of God, with strong 
 walls and pillars, much larger and handsomer than our 
 
56 HOMO SUM. 
 
 church in the oasis, and that is his work too. He is not 
 much older than you are, and already he is famous 
 among the people far and wide. Out of those red 
 blocks down there my younger son Polykarp will hew 
 noble lions, which are destined to decorate the finest 
 building in the capital itself. When you and I, and all 
 that are now living, shall have been long since forgotten, 
 still it will be said these are the work of the Master 
 Polykarp, the son of Petrus, the Pharanite. What he 
 can do is certainly a thing peculiar to himself, no one 
 who is not one of the chosen and gifted ones can say, 
 * I will learn to do that.' But you have a sound under- 
 standing, strong hands and open eyes, and who can tell 
 what else there is hidden in you. If you could begin to 
 learn soon, it would not yet be too late to make a worthy 
 master of you, but of course he who would rise so high 
 must not be afraid of work. Is your mind set upon 
 fame ? That is quite right, and I am very glad of it ; but 
 you must know that he who would gather that rare fruit 
 must water it, as a noble heathen once said, with the 
 sweat of his brow. Without trouble and labor and 
 struggles there can be no victory, and men rarely earn 
 fame without fighting for victory." 
 
 The old man's vehemence was contagious ; the lad's 
 spirit was roused, and he exclaimed warmly : " What 
 do you say ? that I am afraid of struggles and trouble? 
 I am ready to stake everything, even my life, only to 
 win fame. But to measure stone, to batter defenceless 
 blocks with a mallet and chisel, or to join the squares 
 with accurate pains — that does not tempt me. I 
 should like to win the wreath in the Palaestra by* fling- 
 ing the strongest to the ground, or surpass all others as 
 a warrior in battle ; my father was a soldier too, and he 
 
HOMO SUM. 57 
 
 may talk as much as he will of 'peace,' and nothing 
 but 'peace,' all the same in his dreams he speaks of 
 bloody strife and burning wounds. If you only cure 
 him I will stay no longer on this lonely mountain, even 
 if I must steal away in secret. For what did God give 
 me these arms, if not to use them ? " 
 
 Petrus made no answer to these words, which came 
 in a stormy flood from Hernias' lips, but he stroked his 
 grey beard, and thought to himself, " The young of the 
 eagle does not catch flies. I shall never win over this 
 soldier's son to our peaceful handicraft, but he shall not 
 remain on the mountain among these queer sluggards, 
 for there he is being ruined, and yet he is not of a 
 common sort." 
 
 When he had given a few orders to the overseer of 
 his workmen, he followed the young man to see his 
 suffering father. 
 
 It was now some hours since Hermas and Paulus 
 had left the wounded anchorite, and he still lay alone 
 in his cave. The sun, as it rose higher and higher, 
 blazed down upon the rocks, which began to radiate 
 their heat, and the hermit's dwelling was suffocatingly 
 hot. The pain of the poor man's wound increased, his 
 fever was greater, and he was very thirsty. There 
 stood the jug, which Paulus had given him, but it was 
 long since empty, and neither Paulus nor Hermas had 
 come back. He listened anxiously to the sounds in 
 the distance, and fancied at first that he heard the 
 Alexandrian's footstep, and then that he heard loud 
 words and suppressed groans coming from his cave. 
 Stephanus tried to call out, but he himself could hardly 
 hear the feeble sound, which, with his wounded breast 
 and parched mouth, he succeeded in uttering. Then 
 
58 HOMO SUM. 
 
 he fain would have prayed, but fearful mental anguish 
 disturbed his devotion. All the horrors of desertion 
 came upon him, and he who had lived a life overflow- 
 ing with action and enjoyment, with disenchantment 
 and satiety, who now in solitude carried on an incessant 
 spiritual struggle for the highest goal — this man felt 
 himself as disconsolate and lonely as a bewildered child 
 that has lost its mother. 
 
 He lay on his bed of pain softly crying, and when 
 he observed by the shadow of the rock that the sun 
 had passed its noonday height, indignation and bitter 
 feeling were added to pain, thirst and weariness. He 
 doubled his fists and muttered words which sounded 
 like soldier's oaths, ( and with them the name now of 
 Paulus, now of his son. At last anguish gained the 
 upperhand of his anger, and it seemed to him, as though 
 he were living over again the most miserable hour of 
 his life, an hour now long since past and gone. 
 
 He thought he was returning from a noisy banquet 
 in the palace of the Caesars. His slaves had taken the 
 garlands of roses and poplar leaves from his brow and 
 breast, and robed him in his night-dress; now, with a 
 silver lamp in his hand, he was approaching his bed- 
 room, and he smiled, for his young wife was awaiting 
 him, the mother of his Hermas. She was fair and he 
 loved her well, and he had brought home witty sayings 
 to repeat to her from the table of the emperor. He, 
 if any one, had a right to smile. Now he was in the 
 ante-room, in which two slave-women were accustomed 
 to keep watch; he found only one, and she was sleep- 
 ing and breathing deeply ; he still smiled as he threw 
 the light upon her face — how stupid she looked with 
 her mouth open ! An alabaster lamp shed a dim light 
 
HOMO SUM. 59 
 
 in the bed-room, softly and still smiling he went up to 
 Glycera's ivory couch, and held up his lamp, and 
 stared at the empty and undisturbed bed — and the 
 smile faded from his lips. The smile of that evening 
 came back to him no more through all the long years, 
 for Glycera had betrayed him, and left him — him and 
 her child. All this had happened twenty years since, 
 and to-day all that he had then felt had returned to him, 
 and he saw his wife's empty couch with his " mind's 
 eye," as plainly as he had then seen it, and he felt as 
 lonely and as miserable as in that night. But now a 
 shadow appeared before the opening of the cave, and 
 he breathed a deep sigh as he felt himself released from 
 the hideous vision, for he had recognized Paulus, who 
 came up and knelt down beside him. 
 
 " Water, water ! " Stephanus implored in a low 
 voice, and Paulus, who was cut to the heart by the 
 moaning of the old man, which he had not heard till 
 he entered the cave, seized the pitcher. He looked 
 into it, and, finding it quite dry, he rushed down to the 
 spring as if he were running for a wager, filled it to the 
 brim and brought it to the lips of the sick man, who 
 gulped the grateful drink down with deep draughts, 
 and at last exclaimed with a sigh of relief; "That 
 is better; why were you so long away? I was so 
 thirsty ! " Paulus who had fallen again on his knees by 
 the old man, pressed his brow against the couch, and 
 made no reply. Stephanus gazed in astonishment at 
 his companion, but perceiving that he was weeping 
 passionately ne asked no further questions. Perfect 
 stillness reigned in the cave for about an hour ; at last 
 Paulus raised his face, and said, " Forgive me Steph- 
 anus. I forgot your necessity in prayer and scourging* 
 
60 HOMO SUM. 
 
 in order to recover the peace of mind I had trifled away 
 — no heathen would have done such a thing!" The 
 sick man stroked his friend's arm affectionately ; but 
 Paulus murmured, " Egoism, miserable egoism guides 
 and governs us. Which of us ever thinks of the needs 
 of others ? And we — we who profess to walk in the 
 way of the Lamb ! " 
 
 He sighed deeply, and leaned his head on the sick 
 man's breast, who lovingly stroked his rough hair, and 
 it was thus that the senator found him, when he entered 
 the cave with Hermas. 
 
 The idle way of life of the anchorites was wholly 
 repulsive to his views of the task for men and for 
 Christians, but he succored those whom he could, and 
 made no enquiries about the condition of the sufferer. 
 The pathetic union in which he found the two men 
 touched his heart, and, turning to Paulus, he said 
 kindly : " I can leave you in perfect comfort, for you 
 seem to me to have a faithful nurse." 
 
 The Alexandrian reddened ; he shook his head, and 
 replied : "I? I thought of no one but myself, and 
 left him to suffer and thirst in neglect, but now I will 
 not quit him — no, indeed, I will not, and by God's 
 help and yours, he shall recover." 
 
 Petrus gave him a friendly nod, for he did not be- 
 lieve in the anchorite's self-accusation, though he did in 
 his good-will ; and before he left the cave, he desired 
 Hermas to come to him early on the following day to 
 give him news of his father's state. He wished not only 
 to cure Stephanus, but to continue his relations with 
 the youth, who had excited his interest in the highest 
 degree, and he had resolved to help him to escape from 
 the inactive life which was weighing upon him. 
 
HOMO SUM. 6l 
 
 Paulus declined to share the simple supper that the 
 father and son were eating, but expressed his intention 
 of remaining with the sick man. He desired Hermas 
 to pass the night in his dwelling, as the scanty limits of 
 the cave left but narrow room for the lad. 
 
 A new life had this day dawned upon the young 
 man ; all the grievances and desires which had filled his 
 soul ever since his journey to Alexandria, crowding to- 
 gether in dull confusion, had taken form and color, and 
 he knew now that he could not remain an anchorite, 
 but must try his over abundant strength in real life. 
 
 " My father," thought he, " was a warrior, and lived 
 in a palace, before he retired into our dingy cave ; Paulus 
 was Menander, and to this day has not forgotten how to 
 throw the discus ; I am young, strong, and free-born as 
 they were, and Petrus says, I might have been a fine 
 man. I will not hew and chisel stones like his sons, but 
 Caesar needs soldiers, and among all the Amalekites, 
 nay among the Romans in the oasis, I saw none with 
 whom I might not match myself." 
 
 While thus he thought he stretched his limbs, and 
 struck his hands on his broad breast, and when he was 
 asleep, he dreamed of the wrestling school, and of a pur- 
 ple robe that Paulus held out to him, of a wreath of 
 poplar leaves that rested on his scented curls, and of the 
 beautiful woman who had met him on the stairs of the 
 senator's house. 
 
62 HOMO SUM. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Thanks to the senator's potion Stephanus soon 
 fell asleep. Paulus sat near him and did not stir; he 
 held his breath, and painfully suppressed even an im- 
 pulse to cough, so as not to disturb the sick man's light 
 slumbers. 
 
 An hour after midnight the old man awoke, and after 
 he had lain meditating for some time with his eyes open, 
 he said thoughtfully : " You called yourself and us all 
 egotistic, and I certainly am so. I have often said so to 
 myself; not for the first time to day, but for weeks past, 
 since Hermas came back from Alexandria, and seems to 
 have forgotten how to laugh. He is not happy, and 
 when I ask myself what is to become of him when I am 
 dead, and if he turns from the Lord and seeks the 
 pleasures of the world, my heart sickens. I meant it for 
 the best when I brought him with me up to the Holy 
 Mountain, but that was not the only motive — it seemed 
 to me too hard to part altogether from the child. My 
 God ! the young of brutes are secure of their mother's 
 faithful love, and his never asked for him when she fled 
 from my house with her seducer. I thought he should 
 at least not lose his father, and that if he grew up far 
 away from the world he would be spared all the sorrow 
 that it had so profusely heaped upon me. I would have 
 brought him up fit for Heaven, and yet through a life 
 devoid of suffering. And now — and now ? If he is 
 miserable it will be through me, and added to all my 
 other troubles comes this grief." 
 
HOMO SUM. 63 
 
 " You have sought out the way for him," interrupted 
 Paulus, " and the rest will be sure to come ; he loves 
 you and will certainly not leave you so long as you are 
 suffering. " 
 
 " Certainly not ?" asked the sick man sadly. " And 
 what weapons has he to fight through life with ? " 
 
 " You gave him the Saviour for a guide ; that is 
 enough," said Paulus soothingly. " There is no smooth 
 road from earth to Heaven, and none can win salvation 
 for another." 
 
 Stephanus was silent for a long time, then he said : 
 " It is not even allowed to a father to earn the wretched 
 experience of life for his son, or to a teacher for his pupil. 
 We may point out the goal, but the way thither is by a 
 different road for each of us." 
 
 " And we may thank God for that," cried Paulus. 
 *' For Hermas has been started on the road which you 
 and I had first to find for ourselves." 
 
 " You and I," repeated the sick man thoughtfully. 
 u Yes, each of us has sought his own way, but has en- 
 quired only which was his own way, and has never con- 
 cerned himself about that of the other. Self! self! — 
 How many years we have dwelt close together, and I 
 have never felt impelled to ask you what you could re- 
 call to mind about your youth, and how you were led 
 to grace. I learnt by accident that you were an Alex- 
 andrian, and had been a heathen, and had suffered much 
 for the faith, and with that I was satisfied. Indeed you 
 do not seem very ready to speak of those long past 
 days. Our neighbor should be as dear to us as our self, 
 and who is nearer to me than you ? Aye, self and self- 
 ishness ! There are many gulfs on the road towards 
 God." 
 
64 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " I have not much to tell," said Paulus. " But a 
 man never forgets what he once has been. We may 
 cast the old man from us, and believe we have shaken 
 ourselves free, when lo! it is there again and greets 
 us as an old acquaintance. If a frog only once 
 comes down from his tree he hops back into the pond 
 again." 
 
 " It is true, memory can never die ! " cried the sick 
 man. " I can not sleep any more ; tell me about your 
 early life and how you became a Christian. When two 
 men have journeyed by the same road, and the moment 
 of parting is at hand, they are fain to ask each other's 
 name and where they came from." 
 
 Paulus gazed for some time into space, and then he 
 began : " The companions of my youth called me 
 Menander, the son of Herophilus. Besides that, I 
 know for certain very little of my youth, for as I have 
 already told you, I have long since ceased to allow my- 
 self to think of the world. He who abandons a thing, 
 but clings to the idea of the thing, continues — " 
 
 " That sounds like Plato," said Stephanus with a 
 smile. 
 
 " All that heathen farrago comes back to me to- 
 day," cried Paulus. " I used to know it well, and I have 
 often thought that his face must have resembled that of 
 the Saviour." 
 
 " But only as a beautiful song might resemble the 
 voice of an angel," said Stephanus somewhat drily. 
 " He who plunges into the depths of philosophic sys- 
 tems — " 
 
 " That never was quite my case," said Paulus. " I 
 did indeed go through the whole educational course ; 
 Grammar, Rhetoric, Dialectic and Music — " 
 
HOMO SUM. 65 
 
 " And Arithmetic, Geometry, and Astronomy," 
 added Stephanus. 
 
 " Those were left to the learned many years since," 
 continued Paulus, " and I was never very eager for 
 learning. In the school of Rhetoric I remained far be- 
 hind my fellows, and if Plato was dear to me I owe it 
 to Paedonomus of Athens, a worthy man whom my 
 father engaged to teach us." 
 
 " They say he had been a great merchant," inter- 
 rupted Stephanus. " Can it be that you were the son 
 of that rich Herophilus, whose business in Antioch was 
 conducted by the worthy Jew Urbib ? " 
 
 " Yes indeed," replied Paulus, looking down at the 
 ground in some confusion. " Our mode of life was al- 
 most royal, and the multitude of our slaves quite sinful. 
 When I look back on all the vain trifles that my father 
 had to care for, I feel quite giddy. Twenty sea-going 
 ships in the harbor of Eunostus, and eighty Nile-boats 
 on Lake Mareotis belonged to him. His profits on the 
 manufacture of papyrus might have maintained a city- 
 full of poor. But we needed our revenues for other 
 things. Our Cyraenian horses stood in marble stalls, and 
 the great hall, in which my father's friends were wont to 
 meet, was like a temple. But you see how the world 
 takes possession of us, when we begin to think about it ! 
 Rather let us leave the past in peace. You want me to 
 tell you more of myself? Well; my childhood passed 
 like that of a thousand other rich citizens' sons, only my 
 mother, indeed, was exceptionally beautiful and sweet, 
 and of angelic goodness." 
 
 " Every child thinks his own mother the best of 
 mothers," murmured the sick man. 
 
 " Mine certainly was the best to me," cried Paulus. 
 
66 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " And yet she was a heathen. When my father hurt me 
 with severe words of blame, she always had a kind word 
 and loving glance for me. There was little enough, in- 
 deed, to praise in me. Learning was utterly distasteful 
 to me, and even if I had done better at school, it would 
 hardly have counted for much to my credit, for my broth- 
 er Apollonius, who was about a year younger than I, 
 learned all the most difficult things as if they were mere 
 child's play, and in dialectic exercises there soon was no 
 rhetorician in Alexandria who could compete with him. 
 No system was unknown to him, and though no one 
 ever knew of his troubling himself particularly to study, 
 he nevertheless was master of many departments of 
 learning. There were but two things in which I could 
 beat him — in music, and in all athletic exercises ; while 
 he was studying and disputing I was winning garlands 
 in the palaestra. But at that time the best master of 
 rhetoric and argument was the best man, and my father, 
 who himself could shine in the senate as an ardent and 
 elegant orator, looked upon me as a half idiotic ne'er- 
 do-weel, until one day a learned client of our house pre- 
 sented him with a pebble on which was carved an 
 epigram to this effect : ' He who would see the noblest 
 gifts of the Greek race, should visit the house of Hero- 
 philus, for there he might admire strength and vigor of 
 body in Menander, and the same qualities of mind in 
 Apollonius.' These lines, which were written in the 
 form of a lute, passed from mouth to mouth, and grati- 
 fied my father's ambition ; from that time he had words 
 of praise for me when my quadriga won the race in the 
 Hippodrome, or when I came home crowned from the 
 wrestling-ring, or the singing match. My whole life was 
 spent in the baths and the palaestra, or in gay feasting." 
 
HOMO SUM. 67 
 
 u I know it all," exclaimed Stephanus interrupting 
 him, " and the memory of it all often disturbs me. 
 Did you find it easy to banish these images from your 
 mind?" 
 
 " At first I had a hard fight," sighed Paulus. " But 
 for some time now, since I have passed my fortieth 
 year, the temptations of the world torment me less often. 
 Only I must keep out of the way of the carriers who 
 "bring fish from the fishing towns on the sea, and from 
 Raithu to the oasis." 
 
 Stephanus looked enquiringly at the speaker, and 
 Paulus went on : " Yes, it is very strange. I may see 
 men or women — the sea yonder or the mountain here, 
 without ever thinking of Alexandria, but only of sacred 
 things ; but when the savor of fish rises up to my nos- 
 trils I see the market and fish stalls and the oysters — " 
 
 " Those of Kanopus are famous," interrupted Steph- 
 anus, "they make little pasties there — " Paulus passed 
 the back of his hand over his bearded lips, exclaiming, 
 ** At the shop of the fat cook — Philemon — in the street 
 of Herakleotis." But he broke off, and cried with an im- 
 pulse of shame, " It were better that I should cease tell- 
 ing of my past life. The day does not dawn yet, and 
 you must try to sleep." 
 
 " I cannot sleep," sighed Stephanus ; " if you love 
 me go on with your story." 
 
 " But do not interrupt me again then," said Paulus, 
 and he went on : " With all this gay life I was not happy 
 — by no means. When I was alone sometimes, and no 
 longer sitting in the crowd of merry boon-companions 
 and complaisant wenches, emptying the wine cup and 
 crowned with poplar, I often felt as if I were walking on 
 the brink of a dark abyss — as if every thing in myself 
 
68. HOMO SUM. 
 
 and around me were utterly hollow and empty. I could 
 stand gazing for hours at the sea, and as the waves rose 
 only to sink again and vanish, I often reflected that I 
 was like them, and that the future of my frivolous pre- 
 sent must be a mere empty nothing. Our gods were of 
 little account with us. My mother sacrificed now in 
 one temple, and now in another, according to the needs 
 of the moment ; my father took part in the high fes- 
 tivals, but he laughed at the belief of the multitude, and 
 my brother talked of the ' Primaeval Unity,' and dealt 
 with all sorts of demons, and magic formulas. He ac- 
 cepted the doctrine of Iamblichus, Ablavius, and the 
 other Neoplatonic philosophers, which to my poor un- 
 derstanding seemed either superhumanly profound or 
 else debasingly foolish ; nevertheless my memory retains 
 many of his sayings, which I have learned to understand 
 here in my loneliness. It is vain to seek reason outside 
 ourselves; the highest to which we can attain is for 
 reason to behold itself in us ! As often as the world 
 sinks into nothingness in my soul, and I live in God 
 only, and have Him, and comprehend Him, and feel 
 Him only — then that doctrine recurs to me. How all 
 these fools sought and listened everywhere for the truth 
 which was being proclaimed in their very ears ! There 
 were Christians everywhere about me, and at that time 
 they had no need to conceal themselves, but I had 
 nothing to do with them. Twice only did they cross 
 my path ; once I was not a little annoyed when, on the 
 Hippodrome, a Christian's horses which had been 
 blessed by a Nazarite, beat mine ; and on another oc- 
 casion it seemed strange to me when I myself received 
 the blessing of an old Christian dock-laborer, having 
 pulled his son out of the water. 
 
HOMO SUM. 69 
 
 " Years went on ; my parents died. My mother's 
 last glance was directed at me, for I had always been 
 her favorite child. They said too that I was like her, I 
 and my sister Arsinoe, who, soon after my father's 
 death, married the Prefect Pompey. At the division of 
 the property I gave up to my brother the manufactories 
 and the management of the business, nay even the 
 house in the city, though, as the elder brother, I had a 
 right to it, and I took in exchange the land near the 
 Kanopic gate, and filled the stables there with splendid 
 horses, and the lofts with not less noble wine. This I 
 needed, because I gave up the days to baths and con- 
 tests in the arena, and the nights to feasting, sometimes 
 at my own house, sometimes at a friend's, and some- 
 times in the taverns of Kanopus, where the fairest 
 Greek girls seasoned the feasts with singing and dancing. 
 
 "What have these details of the vainest worldly 
 pleasure to do with my conversion, you will ask. But 
 listen a while. When Saul went forth to seek his father's 
 asses he found a crown. 
 
 " One day we had gone out in our gilded boats, and 
 the Lesbian girl Archidike had made ready a feast for 
 us in her house, a feast such as could scarcely be of- 
 fered even in Rome. 
 
 " Since the taking of our city by Diocletian, after the 
 insurrection of Achilleus, the Imperial troops who came 
 to Alexandria behaved insolently enough. Between 
 some of my friends, and certain of the young officers of 
 Roman patrician families, there had been a good deal 
 of rough banter for some months past, as to their horses, 
 women — I know not what ; and it happened that we 
 met these very gentry at the house of Archidike\ 
 
 " Sharp speeches were made, which the soldiers re- 
 
70 HOMO SUM. 
 
 plied to after their fashion, and at last they came to in- 
 sulting words, and as the wine heated us and them, to 
 loud threats. 
 
 " The Romans left the house of entertainment before 
 we did. Crowned with garlands, singing, and utterly- 
 careless, we followed soon after them, and had almost 
 reached the quay, when a noisy troop rushed out of a 
 side street, and fell upon us with naked weapons. The 
 moon was high in the heavens, and I could recognize 
 some of our adversaries. I threw myself on a tall tri- 
 bune, throttled him, and, as he fell, I fell with him in the 
 dust ; I am but dimly conscious of what followed, for 
 sword-strokes were showered upon me, and all grew 
 black before my eyes. I only know what I thought 
 then, face to face with death." 
 
 « Well — ? " asked Stephanus. 
 
 " I thought," said Paulus reddening, " of my fight- 
 ing-quails at Alexandria, and whether they had had any 
 water. Then my dull heavy unconsciousness increased ; 
 for weeks I lay in that state, for I was hacked like sau- 
 sage-meat; I had twelve wounds, not counting the 
 slighter ones, and any one else would have died of any 
 one of them. You have often wondered at my scars." 
 
 " And whom did the Lord choose then to be the 
 means of your salvation ? " 
 
 " When I recovered my senses," continued Paulus, 
 " I was lying in a large, clean room behind a curtain of 
 light material ; I could not raise myself, but just as if I 
 had been sleeping so many minutes instead of days, I 
 thought again directly of my quails. In their last fight 
 my best cock had severely handled handsome Nikan- 
 der's, and yet he wanted to dispute the stakes with me, 
 but I would assert my rights ! At least the quails 
 
HOMO SUM. 71 
 
 should fight again, and if Nikander should refuse I 
 would force him to fight me with his fists in the Palaestra, 
 and give him a blue reminder of his debt on the eye. 
 My hands were still weak, and yet I clenched them as 
 I thought of the vexatious affair. ' I will punish him,' 
 I muttered to myself. 
 
 " Then I heard the door of the room open, and I 
 saw three men respectfully approaching a fourth. He 
 greeted them with dignity, but yet with friendliness, and 
 rolled up a scroll which he had been reading, I would 
 have called out, but I could not open my parched lips, 
 and yet I saw and heard all that was going on around 
 me in the room. 
 
 " It all seemed strange enough to me then; even the 
 man's mode of greeting was unusual. I soon perceived 
 that he who sat in the chair was a judge, and that the 
 others had come as complainants ; they were all three 
 old and poor, but some good men had left them the use 
 and interest of a piece of land. During seed-time one 
 of them, a fine old man with long white hair, had been 
 ill, and he had not been able to help in the harvest 
 either ; ' and now they want to withhold his portion of 
 the corn,' thought 1 ; but it was quite otherwise. The 
 two men who were in health had taken a third part of 
 the produce to the house of the sick man, and he obsti- 
 nately refused to accept the corn because he had helped 
 neither to sow nor to reap it, and he demanded of the 
 judge that he should signify to the other two that he 
 had no right to receive goods which he had not earned. 
 
 " The judge had so far kept silence. But he now 
 raised his sagacious and kindly face and asked the old 
 man, ' Did you pray for your companions and for the 
 increase of their labors ? " 
 
72 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " ' I did,' replied the other. 
 
 " ' Then by your intercession you helped them/ 
 the judge decided, ' and the third part of the produce is 
 yours and you must keep it.' 
 
 " The old man bowed, the three men shook hands, 
 and in a few minutes the judge was alone in the room 
 again. 
 
 " I did not know what had come over me; the com- 
 plaint of the men and the decision of the judge seemed 
 to me senseless, and yet both the one and the other 
 touched my heart. I went to sleep again, and when I 
 awoke refreshed the next morning the judge came up to 
 me and gave me medicine, not only for my body but 
 also for my soul, which certainly was not less in need of 
 it than my poor wounded limbs." 
 
 " Who was the judge ? " asked Stephanus. 
 
 " Eusebius, the Presbyter of Kanopus. Some 
 Christians had found me half dead on the road, 
 and had carried me into his house, for the widow 
 Theodora, his sister, was the deaconess of the town. 
 The two had nursed me as if I were their dearest 
 brother. It was not till I grew stronger that they 
 showed me the cross and the crown of thorns of Him 
 who for my sake also had taken upon Him such far 
 more cruel suffering than mine, and they taught me to 
 love His wounds, and to bear my own with submis- 
 sion. In the dry wood of despair soon budded 
 green shoots of hope, and instead of annihilation at 
 the end of this life they showed me Heaven and 
 all its joys. 
 
 " I became a new man, and before me there lay in 
 the future an eternal and blessed existence ; after this 
 life I now learned to look forward to eternity. The 
 
HOMO SUM. 73 
 
 gates of Heaven were wide open before me, and I was 
 baptized at Kanopus. 
 
 " In Alexandria they had mourned for me as dead, 
 and my sister Arsinoe, as heiress to my property, had 
 already moved into my country-house with her husband, 
 the prefect. I willingly left her there, and now lived 
 again in the city, in order to support the brethren, as 
 the persecutions had begun again. 
 
 " This was easy for me, as through my brother-in-law 
 I could visit all the prisons ; at last I was obliged to 
 confess the faith, and I suffered much on the rack and 
 in the porphyry quarries ; but every pain was dear to 
 me, for it seemed to bring me nearer to the goal of my 
 longings, and if I find ought to complain of up here on 
 the Holy Mountain, it is only that the Lord deems me 
 unworthy to suffer harder things, when his beloved and 
 only Son took such bitter torments on himself for me 
 and for every wretched sinner." 
 
 " Ah ! saintly man ! " murmured Stephanus, devoutly 
 kissing Paulus' sheep-skin ; but Paulus pulled it from 
 him, exclaiming hastily : 
 
 " Cease, pray cease — he who approaches me with 
 honors now in this life throws a rock in my way to the 
 life of the blessed. Now I will go to the spring and 
 fetch you some fresh water." 
 
 When Paulus returned with the water-jar he found 
 Hermas, who had come to wish his father good-morning 
 before he went down to the oasis to fetch some new 
 medicine from the senator. 
 
74 HOMO SUM. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Sirona was sitting at the open window of her bed- 
 room, having her hair arranged by a black woman that 
 her husband had bought in Rome. She sighed, while 
 the slave lightly touched the shining tresses here and 
 there with perfumed oil which she had poured into the 
 palm of her hand ; then she firmly grasped the long 
 thick waving mass of golden hair and was parting it to 
 make a plait, when Sirona stopped her, saying, " Give 
 me the mirror." 
 
 For some minutes she looked with a melancholy 
 gaze at the image in the polished metal, then she sighed 
 again ; she picked up the little greyhound that lay at 
 her feet, and placing it in her lap, showed the animal its 
 image in the mirror. 
 
 '< There, poor Iambe," she said, " if we two, inside 
 these four walls, want to see anything like a pleasing 
 sight we must look at ourselves." 
 
 Then she went on, turning to the slave. " How the 
 poor little beast trembles ! I believe it longs to be back 
 again at Arelas, and is afraid we shall linger too long 
 under this burning sky. Give me my sandals." 
 
 The black woman reached her mistress two little 
 slippers with gilt ornaments on the slight straps, but 
 Sirona flung her hair off her face with the back of her 
 hand, exclaiming, " The old ones, not these. Wooden 
 shoes even would do here." 
 
 And with these words she pointed to the court-yard 
 under the window, which was in fact as ill contrived, as 
 
: 
 
 HOMO SUM. 75 
 
 though gilt sandals had never yet trodden it. It was 
 surrounded by buildings ; on one side was a wall with a 
 gateway, and on the others buildings which formed a 
 sharply bent horseshoe. 
 
 Opposite the wing in which Sirona and her husband 
 had found a home stood the much higher house of 
 Petrus, and both had attached to them, in the back- 
 ground of the court-yard, sheds constructed of rough 
 reddish brown stones, and covered with a thatch of 
 palm-branches ; in these the agricultural implements 
 were stored, and the senator's slaves lived. In front 
 lay a heap of black charcoal, which was made on 
 the spot by burning the wood of the thorny sajal — 
 a species of acacia ; and there too lay a goodly row 
 of well smoothed mill-stones, which were shaped in 
 the quarry, and exported to Egypt. At this early hour 
 the whole unlovely domain lay in deep shadow, and 
 was crowded with fowls and pigeons. Sirona's win- 
 dow alone was touched by the morning sun. 'If she 
 could have known what a charm the golden light 
 shed over her figure, on her rose and white face, 
 and her shining hair, she would have welcomed the 
 day-star, instead of complaining that it had too early 
 waked her from sleep— her best comfort in her soli- 
 tude. 
 
 Besides a few adjoining rooms she was mistress of a 
 larger room, the dwelling room, which look out upon 
 the street. 
 
 She shaded her eyes with her hand, exclaiming, 
 " Oh ! the wearisome sun. It looks at us the first thing 
 in the morning through the window ; as if the day were 
 not long enough. The beds must be put in the front- 
 room; I insist upon it." 
 
*]6 HOMO SUM. 
 
 The slave shook her head, and stammered an an- 
 swer, " Phoebicius will not have it so." 
 
 Sirona's eyes flashed angrily, and her voice, which 
 was particularly sweet, trembled slightly as she asked, 
 *' What is wrong with him again ? " 
 
 " He says," replied the slave, " that the senator's 
 son, Polykarp, goes oftener past your window than 
 altogether pleases him, and it seems to him, that you 
 occupy yourself more than is necessary with his little 
 brothers and sisters, and the other children up there." 
 
 " Is he still in there ? " asked Sirona with glowing 
 cheeks, and she pointed threateningly to the dwelling- 
 room. 
 
 "The master is out," stuttered the old woman. 
 " He went out before sunrise. You are not to wait for 
 breakfast, he will not return till late." 
 
 The Gaulish lady made no answer, but her head fell, 
 and the deepest melancholy overspread her features. 
 
 The greyhound seemed to feel for the troubles of his 
 mistress, for he fawned upon her, as if to kiss her. The 
 solitary woman pressed the little creature, which had 
 come with her from her home, closely to her bosom ; 
 for an unwonted sense of wretchedness weighed upon 
 her heart, and she felt as lonely, friendless, and aban- 
 doned, as if she were driving alone — alone — over a wide 
 and shoreless sea. She shuddered, as if she were cold 
 — for she thought of her husband, the man who here in 
 the desert should have been all in all to her, but whose 
 presence filled her with aversion, whose indifference had 
 ceased to wound her, and whose tenderness she feared 
 far more than his wild irritability — she had never loved 
 him. 
 
 She had grown up free from care among a number of 
 
HOMO RUM. 77 
 
 brothers and sisters. Her father had been the chief ac- 
 countant of the decurions' college in his native town, 
 and he had lived opposite the circus, where, being of a 
 stern temper, he had never permitted his daughters to 
 look on at the games; but he could not prevent their 
 seeing the crowd streaming into the amphitheatre, or 
 hearing their shouts of delight, and their eager cries of 
 approbation. 
 
 Sirona thus grew up in the presence of other people's 
 pleasure, and in a constantly revived and never satisfied 
 longing to share it ; she had, indeed, no time for unnec- 
 essary occupations, for her mother died before she was 
 fully grown up, and she was compelled to take charge 
 of the eight younger children. This she did in all 
 fidelity, but in her hours of leisure she loved to listen 
 to the stories told her by the wives of officials, who 
 had seen, and could praise, the splendors of Rome the 
 golden. 
 
 She knew that she was fair, for she need only go out- 
 side the house to hear it said ; but though she longed 
 to see the capital, it was not for the sake of being ad- 
 mired, but because there was there so much that was 
 splendid to see and to admire. So, when the Centurion 
 Phcebicius, the commandant of the garrison of her na- 
 tive town, was transferred to Rome, and when he 
 desired to take the seventeen-years-old girl with him to 
 the imperial city, as his wife — she was more than forty 
 years younger than he — she followed him full of hope 
 and eager anticipation. 
 
 Not long after their marriage she started for Rome 
 by sea from Massilia, accompanied by an old relative ; 
 and he went by land at the head of his cohorts. 
 
 She reached their destination long before her hus- 
 
78 HOMO SUM. 
 
 band, and without waiting for him, but constantly in the 
 society of her old duenna, she gave herself up with the 
 freedom and eagerness of her fresh youth to the delights 
 of seeing and admiring. 
 
 It did not escape her, while she did so, that she at- 
 tracted all eyes wherever she went, and however much 
 this flattered and pleased her at first, it spoilt many of 
 her pleasures, when the Romans, young and old, began 
 to follow and court her. At last Phcebicius arrived, and 
 when he found his house crowded with his wife's ad- 
 mirers he behaved to Sirona as though she had long 
 since betrayed his honor. 
 
 Nevertheless he dragged her from pleasure to plea- 
 sure, and from one spectacle to another, for it gratified 
 him to show himself in public with his beautiful young 
 wife. She certainly was not free from frivolity, but she 
 had learnt early from her strict father, as being the guide 
 of her younger sisters, to distinguish clearly right from 
 wrong, and the pure from the unclean ; and she soon 
 discovered that the joys of the capital, which had 
 seemed at first to be gay flowers with bright colors, 
 and redolent with intoxicating perfume, bloomed on 
 the surface of a foul bog. 
 
 She at first had contemplated all that was beautiful, 
 pleasant, and characteristic with delight ; but her hus- 
 band took pleasure only in things which revolted her as 
 being common and abominable. He watched her every 
 glance, and yet he pointed nothing out to her, but what 
 was hurtful to the feelings of a pure woman. Pleasure 
 became her torment, for the sweetest wine is repulsive 
 when it has been tasted by impure lips. After every 
 feast and spectacle he loaded her with outrageous re- 
 proaches, and when at last, weary of such treatment, 
 
HOMO SUM. 79 
 
 she refused to quit the house, he obliged her neverthe- 
 less to accompany him as often as the Legate Quintillus 
 desired it. The legate was his superior-officer, and he 
 sent her every day some present or flowers. 
 
 Up to this time she had borne with him, and had 
 tried to excuse him, and to think herself answerable 
 for much of what she endured. But at last — about 
 ten months after her marriage — something occurred be- 
 tween her and Phcebicius — something which stood like 
 a wall of brass between him and her; and as this 
 something had led to his banishment to the remote 
 oasis, and to his degradation to the rank of captain of 
 a miserable maniple, instead of his obtaining his hoped 
 for promotion, he began to torment her systemati- 
 cally while she tried to protect herself by icy coldness ; 
 so that at last it came to this, that the husband, for 
 whom she felt nothing but contempt, had no more in- 
 fluence on her life, than some physical pain which a 
 sick man is doomed to endure all through his existence. 
 
 In his presence she was silent, defiant, and repellent, 
 but as soon as he quitted her, her innate, warm-hearted 
 kindliness and child-like merriment woke up to new life, 
 and their fairest blossoms opened out in the senator's 
 house among the little troop who amply repaid her love 
 with theirs. 
 
 Phcebicius belonged to the worshippers of Mithras, 
 and he often fasted in his honor to the point of exhaus- 
 tion, while on the other hand he frequently drank with 
 his boon companions, at the feasts of the god, till he 
 was in a state of insensibility. 
 
 Here even, in Mount Sinai, he had prepared a grotto 
 for the feast of Mithras, had gathered together a few 
 companions in his faith, and when it happened that he 
 
80 HOMO SUM. 
 
 remained out all day and all night, and came home 
 paler even than usual, she well knew where he had been. 
 
 Just now she vividly pictured to herself the person 
 of this man with his eyes, that now were dull with sleep 
 and now glowed with rage, and- she asked herself 
 whether it were indeed possible that of her own free 
 will she had chosen to become his wife. Her bosom 
 heaved with quicker breathing as she remembered the 
 ignominy he had subjected her to in Rome, and she 
 clenched her small hands. At this instant the little dog 
 sprang from her lap and flew barking to the window-sill; 
 she was easily startled, and she drew on her morning- 
 gown, which had slipped from her white shoulders; 
 then she fastened the straps of her sandals, and went to 
 look down into the court-yard. 
 
 A smile played upon her lips as she perceived young 
 Hermas, who had already been for' some time leaning 
 motionless against the wall of the house opposite, and 
 devouring with his gaze the figure of the beautiful young 
 woman. She had a facile and volatile nature. Like 
 the eye which retains no impression of the disabling 
 darkness so soon as the rays of light have fallen on it, 
 no gloom of suffering touched her so deeply that the 
 lightest breath of a new pleasure could not blow her 
 troubles to the winds. Many rivers are quite different 
 in color at their source and at their mouth, and so it 
 was often with her tears ; she began to weep for sorrow, 
 and then found it difficult to dry her eyes for sheer 
 overflow of mirth. It would have been so easy for 
 Phcebicius to make her lot a fair one ! for she had a 
 most susceptible heart, and was grateful for the smallest 
 proofs of love. But between him and her every bond 
 was broken. 
 
HOMO SUM. 8l 
 
 The form and face of Hermas took her fancy ; she 
 thought he looked of noble birth in spite of his poor 
 clothing, and when she observed that his cheeks were 
 glowing, and that the hand in which he held the medi- 
 cine phial trembled, she understood that he was watch- 
 ing her, and that the sight of her had stirred his youthful 
 blood. A woman — still more a woman who is pleased 
 to please — forgives any sin that is committed for her 
 beauty's sake, and Sirona's voice had a friendly ring in it 
 as she bid Hermas good-morning and asked him how 
 his father was, and whether the senator's medicine had 
 been of service. The youth's answers were short and 
 confused, but his looks betrayed that he would fain have 
 said quite other things than those which his indocile 
 tongue allowed him to reiterate timidly. 
 
 " Dame Dorothea was telling me last evening," she 
 said kindly, " that Petrus had every hope of your father's 
 recovery, but that he is still very weak. Perhaps some 
 good wine would be of service to him — not to-day, but 
 to-morrow or the day after. Only come to me if you 
 need it ; we have some old Falernian in the loft, and 
 white Mareotis wine, which is particularly good and 
 wholesome." 
 
 Hermas thanked her, and as she still urged him to 
 apply to her in all confidence, he took courage and suc- 
 ceeded in stammering rather than saying, " You are as 
 good as you are beautiful." 
 
 The words were hardly spoken when the topmost 
 stone of an elaborately constructed pile near the slaves' 
 house fell down with a loud clatter. Sirona started and 
 drew back from the window, the grey-hound set up a 
 loud barking, and Hermas struck his forehead with his 
 hand as if he were roused from a dream. 
 
82 HOMO SUM. 
 
 In a few instants he had knocked at the senator's 
 door; hardly had he entered the house when Miriam's 
 slight form passed across behind the pile of stones, and 
 vanished swiftly and silently into the slaves' quarters. 
 These were by this time deserted by their inhabitants, 
 who were busy in the field, the house, or the quarries ; 
 they consisted of a few ill-lighted rooms with bare, un- 
 finished walls. 
 
 The shepherdess went into the smallest, where, on a 
 bed of palm-sticks, lay the slave that she had wounded, 
 and who turned over as with a hasty hand she promptly 
 laid a fresh, but ill-folded bandage, all askew on the deep 
 wound in his head. As soon as this task was fulfilled 
 she left the room again, placed herself behind the half 
 open door which led into the court-yard, and, pressing 
 her brow against the stone door-post, looked first at the 
 senator's house, and then at Sirona's window, while her 
 breath came faster and faster. 
 
 A new and violent emotion was stirring her young 
 soul ; not many minutes since she had squatted peace- 
 fully on the ground by the side of the wounded man, 
 with her head resting on her hand, and thinking of her 
 goats on the mountain. Then she had heard a slight 
 sound in the court, which any one else would not have 
 noticed ; but she not only perceived it, but knew with 
 perfect certainty with whom it originated. She could 
 never fail to recognize Hermas' foot-step, and it had an 
 irresistible effect upon her. She raised her head quickly 
 from her hand, and her elbow from the knee on which it 
 was resting, sprang to her feet, and went out into the 
 yard. She was hidden by the mill-stones, but she could 
 see Hermas lost in admiration. She followed the direc- 
 tion of his eyes and saw the same image which had fas- 
 

 HOMO SUM. 83 
 
 cinated his gaze — Sirona's lovely form, flooded with 
 sunlight. She looked as if formed out of snow, and 
 roses, and gold, like the angel at the sepulchre in the 
 new picture in the church. Yes, just like the angel, and 
 the thought flew through her mind how brown and 
 "black she was herself, and that he had called her a she- 
 devil. A sense of deep pain came over her, she felt as 
 though paralyzed in body and soul ; but soon she shook 
 or! the spell, and her heart began to beat violently ; she 
 had to bite her lip hard with her white teeth to keep 
 herself from crying out with rage and anguish. 
 
 How she wished that she could swing herself up to 
 the window on which Hermas' gaze was fixed, and 
 clutch Sirona's golden hair and tear her down to the 
 ground, and suck the very blood from her red lips like 
 a vampire, till she lay at her feet as pale as the corpse 
 of a man dead of thirst in the desert. Then she saw 
 the light mantle slip from Sirona's shoulders, and ob- 
 served Hermas start and press his hand to his heart. 
 
 Then another impulse seized her. It was to call to 
 her and warn her of his presence ; for even women who 
 hate each other hold out the hand of fellowship in the 
 spirit, when the sanctity of woman's modesty is threat- 
 ened with danger. She blushed for Sirona, and had ac- 
 tually opened her lips to call, when the greyhound 
 barked and the dialogue began. Not a word escaped 
 her sharp ears, and when he told Sirona that she was as 
 good as she was beautiful she felt seized with giddiness ; 
 then the topmost stone, by which she had tried to steady 
 herself, lost its balance, its fall interrupted their conver- 
 sation, and Miriam returned to the sick man. 
 
 Now she was standing at the door, waiting for 
 Hermas. Long, long did she wait; at last he appeared 
 
84 HOMO SUM. 
 
 with Dorothea, and she could see that he glanced up 
 again at Sirona; but a spiteful smile passed over her 
 lips, for the window was empty and the fair form that 
 he had hoped to see again had vanished. 
 
 Sirona was now sitting at her loom in the front- 
 room, whither she had been tempted by the sound of 
 approaching hoofs. Polykarp had ridden by on his 
 father's fine horse, had greeted her as he passed, and 
 had dropped a rose on the roadway. Half an hour 
 later the old black slave came to Sirona, who was 
 throwing the shuttle through the warp with a skilful 
 hand. 
 
 " Mistress," cried the negress with a hideous grin ; 
 the lonely woman paused in her work, and as she looked 
 up enquiringly the old woman gave her a rose. Sirona 
 took the flower, blew away the road-side dust that had 
 clung to it, rearranged the tumbled delicate petals with 
 her finger-tips, and said, while she seemed to give the 
 best part of her attention to this occupation, " For the 
 future let roses lie when you find them. You know 
 Phcebicius, and if any one sees it, it will be talked 
 about." 
 
 The black woman turned away, shrugging her 
 shoulders; but Sirona thought, "Polykarp is a hand- 
 some and charming man, and has finer and more ex- 
 pressive eyes than any other here, if he were not always 
 talking of his plans, and drawings, and figures, and 
 mere stupid grave things that I do not care for ! " 
 
HOMO SUM. 85 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The next day, after the sun had passed the meridian 
 and it was beginning to grow cool, Hermas and Paulus 
 yielded to Stephanus' wish, as he began to feel stronger, 
 and carried him out into the air. The anchorites sat 
 near each other on a low block of stone, which Hermas 
 had made into a soft couch for his father by heaping 
 up a high pile of fresh herbs. They looked after the 
 youth, who had taken his bow and arrows, as he went 
 up the mountain to hunt a wild goat ; for Petrus had 
 prescribed a strengthening diet for the sick man. Not 
 a word was spoken by either of them till the hunter had 
 disappeared. Then Stephanus said, " How much he 
 has altered since I have been ill. It is not so very 
 long since I last saw him by the broad light of day, and 
 he seems meantime to have grown from a boy into 
 a man. How self-possessed his gait is." 
 
 Paulus, looking down at the ground, muttered some 
 words of assent. He remembered the discus-throwing 
 and thought to himself, " The Palaestra certainly sticks 
 in his mind, and he has been bathing too ; and yester- 
 day, when he came up from the oasis, he strode in like 
 a young athlete." 
 
 That friendship only is indeed genuine when two 
 friends, without speaking a word to each other, can 
 nevertheless find happiness in being together. Stephr 
 anus and Paulus were silent, and yet a tacit intercourse 
 subsisted between them as they sat gazing towards the 
 west, where the sun was near its setting. 
 
86 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Far below them gleamed the narrow, dark blue- 
 green streak of the Red Sea, bounded by the bare moun- 
 tains of the coast, which shone in a shimmer of golden 
 light. Close beside them rose the toothed crown of the 
 great mountain which, so soon as the day-star had sunk 
 behind it, appeared edged with a riband of glowing 
 rubies. The flaming glow flooded the western horizon, 
 filmy veils of mist floated across the hilly coast-line, the 
 silver clouds against the pure sky changed their hue to 
 the tender blush of a newly opened rose, and the un- 
 dulating shore floated in the translucent violet of the 
 amethyst. There not a breath of air was stirring, not a 
 sound broke the solemn stillness of the evening. Not 
 till the sea was taking a darker and still darker hue, till 
 the glow on the mountain peaks and in the west had 
 begun to die away, and the night to spread its shades 
 over the heights and hollows, did Stephanus unclasp his 
 folded hands and softly speak his companion's name. 
 Paulus started and said, speaking like a man who is 
 aroused from a dream and who is suddenly conscious 
 of having heard some one speak, "You are right; it is 
 growing dark and cool and you must go back into the 
 cave." 
 
 Stephanus offered no opposition and let himself be 
 led back to his bed ; while Paulus was spreading the 
 sheepskin over the sick man he sighed deeply. 
 
 " What disturbs your soul ? " asked the older man. 
 
 " It is — it was — what good can it do me ! " cried 
 Paulus in strong excitement. " There we sat, witnesses 
 of the most glorious marvels of the Most High, and I, 
 in shameless idolatry, seemed to see before me the 
 chariot of Helios with its glorious winged-horses, snort- 
 ing fire as they went, and Helios himself in the guise of 
 
HOMO SUM. 87 
 
 Hermas, with gleaming golden hair, and the dancing 
 Hours, and the golden gates of the night. Accursed 
 rabble of demons ! — " 
 
 At this point the anchorite was interrupted, for Her- 
 mas entered the cave, and laying a young steinbock, 
 that he had killed, before the two men, exclaimed, " A 
 fine fellow, and he cost me no more than one arrow. 
 I will light a fire at once and roast the best pieces. 
 There are plenty of bucks still on our mountain, and I 
 know where to find them." 
 
 In about an hour, father and son were eating the 
 pieces of meat, which had been cooked on a spit. Pau- 
 lus declined to sup with them, for after he had scourged 
 himself in despair and remorse for the throwing of the 
 discus, he had vowed a strict fast. 
 
 " And now," cried Hermas, when his father declared 
 himself satisfied, after seeming to relish greatly the strong 
 meat from which he had so long abstained, " and now 
 the best is to come! In this flask I have some strength- 
 ening wine, and when it is empty it will be filled afresh." 
 
 Stephanus took the wooden beaker that his son 
 offered him, drank a little, and then said, while he 
 smacked his tongue to relish the after-taste of the noble 
 juice, " That is something choice ! — Syrian wine ! only 
 taste it, Paulus." 
 
 Paulus took the beaker in his hand, inhaled the 
 fragrance of the golden fluid, and then murmured, but 
 without putting it to his lips, "That is not Syrian; it is 
 Egyptian, I know it well. I should take it to be 
 Mareotic." ' 
 
 " So Sirona called it," cried Hermas, " and you know 
 it by the mere smell ! She said it was particularly good 
 for the sick." 
 
88 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "That it is," Paulus agreed; but Stephanus asked 
 in surprise, " Sirona ? who is she ? " 
 
 The cave was but dimly lighted by the fire that had 
 been made at the opening, so that the two anchorites 
 could not perceive that Hermas reddened all over as he 
 replied, "Sirona? The Gaulish woman Sirona? Do 
 you not know her ? She is the wife of the centurion 
 down in the oasis." 
 
 " How do you come to know her ? " asked his 
 father. 
 
 " She lives in Petrus' house," replied the lad, " and 
 as she had heard of your wound — " 
 
 " Take her my thanks when you go there to-morrow 
 morning," said Stephanus. " To her and to her hus- 
 band too. Is he a Gaul ? " 
 
 " I believe so — nay, certainly," answered Hermas, 
 " they call him the lion, and he is no doubt a Gaul ? " 
 
 When the lad had left the cave the old man laid 
 himself down to rest, and Paulus kept watch by him on 
 his son's bed. But Stephanus could not sleep, and when 
 his friend approached him to give him some medicine, 
 he said, " The wife of a Gaul has done me a kindness, 
 and yet the wine would have pleased me better if it had 
 not come from a Gaul." 
 
 Paulus looked at him enquiringly, and though total 
 darkness reigned in the cave, Stephanus felt his gaze 
 and said, " I owe no man a grudge and I love my neigh- 
 bor. Great injuries have been done me, but I have for- 
 given — from the bottom of my heart forgiven. Only 
 one man lives to whom I wish evil, and he is a Gaul.'' 
 
 "Forgive him too," said Paulus, "and do not let 
 evil thoughts disturb your sleep." 
 
 "I am not tired," said the sick man, "and if you 
 
HOMO SUM. 89 
 
 had gone through such things as I have, it would 
 trouble your rest at night too." 
 
 " I know, I know," said Paulus soothingly. " It 
 was a Gaul that persuaded your wretched wife into 
 quitting your house and her child." 
 
 "And I loved, oh! how I loved Glycera! " groaned 
 the old man. " She lived like a princess and I ful- 
 filled her every wish before it was uttered. She her- 
 self has said a hundred times that I was too kind and 
 too yielding, and that there was nothing left for her to 
 wish. Then the Gaul came to our house, a man as 
 acrid as sour wine, but with a fluent tongue and spark- 
 ling eyes. How he entangled Glycera I know not, 
 nor do I want to know ; he shall atone for it in hell. 
 For the poor lost woman I pray day and night. A 
 spell was on her, and she left her heart behind in my 
 house, for her child was there and she loved Hermas so 
 fondly ; indeed she was deeply devoted to me. Think 
 what the spell must be that can annihilate a mother's 
 love ! Wretch, hapless wretch that I am ! Did you 
 ever love a woman, Paulus ? " 
 
 " You ought to be asleep," said Paulus in a warning 
 tone. " Who ever lived nearly half a century without 
 feeling love ! Now I will not speak another word, and 
 you must take this drink that Petrus has sent for you." 
 The senator's medicine was potent, for the sick man 
 fell asleep and did not wake till broad day lighted up 
 the cave. 
 
 Paulus was still sitting on his bed, and after they 
 had prayed together, he gave him the jar which Her- 
 mas had filled with fresh water before going down to 
 the oasis. 
 
 " I feel quite strong," said the old man. " The 
 
90 HOMO SUM. 
 
 medicine is good; I have slept well and dreamed 
 sweetly; but you look pale and as if you had not slept." 
 
 " I," said Paulus, " I lay down there on the bed. 
 Now let me go out in the air for a moment." With 
 these words he went out of the cave. 
 
 As soon as he was out of sight of Stephanus he 
 drew a deep breath, stretched his limbs, and rubbed his 
 burning eyes; he felt as if there was sand gathered 
 under their lids, for he had forbidden them to close for 
 three days and nights. At the same time he was con- 
 sumed by a violent thirst, for neither food, nor drink 
 had touched his lips for the same length of time. His 
 hands were beginning to tremble, but • the weakness 
 and pain that he experienced filled him with silent joy, 
 and he would willingly have retired into his cave and 
 have indulged, not for the first time, in the ecstatic 
 pain of hanging on the cross, and bleeding from five 
 wounds, in imitation of the Saviour. 
 
 But Stephanus was calling him, and without hesita- 
 tion he returned to him and replied to his questions ; 
 indeed it was easier to him to speak than to listen, for 
 in his ears there was a roaring, moaning, singing, and 
 piping, and he felt as if drunk with strong wine. 
 
 " If only Hermas does not forget to thank the Gaul !" 
 exclaimed Stephanus. 
 
 " Thank — aye, we should always be thankful ! " re- 
 plied his companion, closing his eyes. 
 
 " I dreamed of Glycera," the old man began again. 
 " You said yesterday that love had stirred your heart 
 too, and yet you never were married. You are silent ? 
 Answer me something." _ 
 
 « I — w ho called me ? " murmured Paulus, staring at 
 the questioner with a fixed gaze. 
 
HOMO SUM. 91 
 
 Stephanus was startled to see that his companion 
 trembled in every limb, he raised himself and held out 
 to him the flask with Sirona's wine, which the other, 
 incapable of controlling himself, snatched eagerly from 
 his hand, and emptied with frantic thirst. The fiery 
 liquor revived his failing strength, brought the color to 
 his cheeks, and lent a strajige lustre to his eyes. " How 
 much good that has done me!" he cried with a deep 
 sigh and pressing his hands on his breast. 
 
 Stephanus was perfectly reassured and repeated his 
 question, but he almost repented of his curiosity, for 
 his friend's voice had an utterly strange ring in it, as he 
 answered : 
 
 "No, I was never married — never, but I have loved 
 for all that, and I will tell you the story from beginning 
 to end j but you must not interrupt me, no not once. 
 I am in a strange mood — perhaps it is the wine. I had 
 not drunk any for so long ; I had fasted since — since — 
 but it does not matter. Be silent, quite silent, and let 
 me tell my story." 
 
 Paulus sat down on Hennas' bed ; he threw himself 
 far back, leaned the back of his head against the rocky 
 wall of the cavern, through whose doorway the day- 
 light poured, and began thus, while he gazed fixedly 
 into vacancy, "What she was like? — who can de- 
 scribe her ? She was tall and large like Hera, and yet 
 not proud, and her noble Greek face was lovely rather 
 than handsome. 
 
 " She could no longer have been very young, but 
 she had eyes like those of a gentle child. I never knew 
 her other than very pale ; her narrow forehead shone 
 like ivory under her soft brown hair; her beautiful 
 hands were as white as her forehead — hands that moved 
 
"92 HOMO SUM. 
 
 as if they themselves were living and inspired creatures 
 with a soul and language of their own. When she 
 folded them devoutly together it seemed as if they 
 were putting up a mute prayer. She was pliant in form 
 as a young palm-tree when it bends, and withal she had 
 a noble dignity, even on the occasion when I first saw 
 her. 
 
 " It was a hideous spot, the revolting prison-hall of 
 Rhyakotis. She wore only a threadbare robe that had 
 once been costly, and a foul old woman followed her 
 about — as a greedy rat might pursue an imprisoned 
 dove — and loaded her with abusive language. She an- 
 swered not a word, but large heavy tears flowed slowly 
 over her pale cheeks and down on to her hands, which 
 she kept crossed on her bosom. Grief and anguish 
 spoke from her eyes, but no vehement passion deformed 
 the regularity of her features. She knew how to endure 
 ^ven ignominy with grace, and what words the raging 
 old woman poured out upon her ! 
 
 " I had long since been baptized, and all the prisons 
 were open to me, the rich Menander, the brother-in-law 
 of the prefect — those prisons in which under Maximin 
 so many Christians were destined to be turned from the 
 true faith. 
 
 " But she did not belong to us. Her eye met mine, 
 and I signed my forehead with the cross, but she did 
 not respond to the sacred sign. The guards led away 
 the old woman, and she drew back into a dark corner, 
 sat down, and covered her face with her hands. A 
 wondrous sympathy for the hapless woman had taken 
 possession of my soul ; I felt as if she belonged to me, 
 and I to her, and I believed in her, even when the 
 turnkey had told me in coarse language that she had 
 
HOMO SUM. 93 
 
 lived with a Roman at the old woman's, and had de- 
 frauded her of a. large sum of money. The next day I 
 went again to the prison, for her sake and my own ; 
 there I found her again in the same corner that she 
 had shrunk into the day before ; by her stood her prison 
 fare untouched, a jar of water and a piece of bread. 
 
 " As I went up to her, I saw how she broke a small 
 bit off the thin cake for herself, and then called a little 
 Christian boy who had come into the prison with his 
 mother, and gave him the remainder. The child 
 thanked her prettily, and she drew him to her, and 
 kissed him with passionate tenderness, though he was 
 sickly and ugly. 
 
 " ' No one who can love children so well is wholly 
 lost,' said I to myself, and I offered to help her as far 
 as lay in my power. 
 
 " She looked at me not without distrust, and said 
 that nothing had happened to her, but what she de- 
 served, and she would bear it. Before I could enquire 
 of her any further, we were interrupted by the Christian 
 prisoners, who crowded around the worthy Ammonius, 
 who was exhorting and comforting them with edifying 
 discourse. She listened attentively to the old man, and 
 on the following day I found her in conversation with 
 the mother of the boy to whom she had given her 
 bread. 
 
 " One morning, I had gone there with some fruit to 
 offer as a treat to the prisoners, and particularly to her. 
 She took an apple, and said, rising as she spoke, ' I 
 would now ask another favor of you. You are a Chris- 
 tian, send me a priest, that he may baptize me, if he 
 does not think me unworthy, for I am burdened with 
 sins so heavily as no other woman can be.' Her large, 
 
•94 HOMO SUM. 
 
 sweet, childlike eyes filled again with big silent tears, 
 and I spoke to her, from my heart, and showed her as 
 well as I could the grace of the Redeemer. Shortly 
 after, Ammonius secretly baptized her, and she begged 
 to be given the name of Magdalen, and so it was, and 
 after that she took me wholly into her confidence. 
 
 " She had left her husband and her child for the 
 sake of a diabolical seducer, whom she had followed to 
 Alexandria, and who there had abandoned her. Alone 
 and friendless, in want and guilt, she remained behind 
 with a hard-hearted and covetous hostess, who had 
 brought her before the judge, and so into prison. What 
 an abyss of the deepest anguish of soul I could dis- 
 cover in this woman, who was worthy of a better lot ! 
 What is highest and best in a woman ? Her love, her 
 mother's heart, her honor ; and Magdalen had squan- 
 dered and ruined all these by her own guilt. The blow 
 of overwhelming fate may be easily borne, but woe to 
 him, whose life is ruined by his own sin ! She was a 
 sinner, she felt it with anguish of repentance, and she 
 .steadily refused my offers to purchase her freedom. 
 
 " She was greedy of punishment, as a man in a 
 fever is greedy of the bitter potion, which cools his 
 blood. And, by the crucified Lord! I have found 
 more noble humanity among sinners, than in many just 
 men in priestly garb. Through the presence of Mag- 
 dalen, the prison recovered its sanctity in my eyes. Be- 
 fore this I had frequently quitted it full of deep con- 
 tempt, for among the imprisoned Christians, there were 
 too often lazy vagabonds, who had loudly confessed the 
 Saviour only to be fed by the gifts of the brethren ; 
 there I had seen accursed criminals, who hoped by a 
 martyr's death to win back the redemption that they 
 
HOMO SUM. 95 
 
 had forfeited; there I had heard the woeful cries of the 
 faint-hearted, who feared death as much as they feared 
 treason to the most High. There were things to be seen 
 there that might harrow the soul, but also examples of 
 the sublimest greatness. Men have I seen there, aye, 
 and women, who went to their death in calm and silent 
 bliss, and whose end was, indeed, noble — more noble 
 than that of the much-lauded Codrus or Decius Mus. 
 
 "Among all the prisoners there was neither man 
 nor woman who was more calmly self-possessed, more 
 devoutly resigned, than Magdalen. The words, ' There 
 is more joy in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth 
 than over ninety and nine that need no repentance,' 
 strengthened her greatly, and she repented — yea and 
 verily, she did. And for my part, God is my witness 
 that not an impulse as from man to woman drew me to 
 her, and yet I could not leave her, and I passed the 
 day by her side, and at night she haunted my soul, and 
 it would have seemed to me fairer than all in life 
 besides to have been allowed to die with her. 
 
 " It was at the time of the fourth decree of persecu- 
 tion, a few months before the promulgation of the first 
 edict of toleration. 
 
 " He that sacrifices, it is said, shall go unpunished, 
 and he that refuses, shall by some means or other be 
 brought to it, but those who continue stiff-necked shall 
 suffer death. For a long time much consideration had 
 been shown to the prisoners, but now they were 
 alarmed by having the edict read to them anew. 
 Many hid themselves groaning and lamenting, others 
 prayed aloud, and most awaited what might happen 
 with pale lips and painful breathing. 
 
 " Magdalen remained perfectly calm. The names of 
 
96 HOMO SUM. 
 
 the Christian prisoners were called out, and the impe- 
 rial soldiers led them, all together to one spot. Neither 
 my name nor hers was called, for I did not belong to 
 the prisoners, and she had not been apprehended for 
 the faith's sake. The officer was rolling up his list, 
 when Magdalen rose and stepped modestly forward, 
 saying with quiet dignity, ' I too am a Christian.' 
 
 " If there be an angel who wears the form and fea- 
 tures of man, his face must resemble hers, as she 
 looked in that hour. The Roman, a worthy man, 
 looked at her with a benevolent, but searching gaze. 
 1 1 do not find your name here,' he said aloud, shaking 
 his head and pointing to the roll ; and he added in a 
 lower voice, ' Nor do I intend to find^it.' 
 
 " She went closer up to him, and said out loud, 
 * Grant me my place among the believers, and write 
 down, that Magdalen, the Christian, refuses to sac- 
 rifice.' 
 
 " My soul was deeply moved, and with joyful eager- 
 ness I cried out, 'Put down my name too, and write, 
 that Menander, the son of Herophilus, also refuses.' 
 The Roman did his duty. 
 
 "Time has not blotted out from my memory a 
 single moment of that day. There stood the altar, and 
 near it the heathen, priest on one side, and on the other 
 the emperor's officer. We were taken up two by two ; ' 
 Magdalen and I were the last. One word now — one 
 little word — would give us life and freedom, another 
 the rack and death. Out of thirty of us only four had 
 found courage to refuse to sacrifice, but the feeble 
 hearted broke out into lamentations, and beat their 
 foreheads, and prayed that the Lord might strengthen 
 the courage of the others. An unutterably pure and 
 
HOMO SUM. 97 
 
 lofty joy filled my soul, and I felt, as if we were out of 
 the body floating on ambient clouds. Softly and calmly 
 we refused to sacrifice, thanked the imperial official, 
 who warned us kindly, and in the same hour and place 
 we fell into the hands of the torturers. She gazed only 
 up to heaven, and I only at her, but in the midst of 
 the most frightful torments I saw before me the Saviour 
 beckoning to me, surrounded by angels that soared on 
 soft airs, whose presence filled my eyes with the purest 
 light, and my ears with heavenly music. She bore the 
 utmost torture without flinching, only once she called 
 out the name of her son Hermas; then I turned to 
 look at her, and saw her gazing up to Heaven with 
 wide open eyes and trembling 4ips — living, but already 
 with the Lord — on the rack, and yet in bliss. My 
 stronger body clung to the earth j she found deliver- 
 ance at the first blow of the torturer. 
 
 " I myself closed her eyes, the sweetest eyes in 
 which Heaven was ever mirrored, I drew a ring from 
 her dear, white, blood-stained hand, and here under the 
 rough sheepskin I have it yet; and I pray, I pray, I 
 pray — oh ! my heart ! My God if it might be — if this is 
 the end—!" 
 
 Paulus put his hand to his head, and sank exhausted 
 on the bed, in a deep swoon. The sick man had fol- 
 lowed his story with breathless interest. Some time 
 since he had risen from his bed, and, unobserved by his 
 companion, had sunk on his knees ; he now dragged 
 himself, all hot and trembling, to the side of the sense- 
 less man, tore the sheep's fell from his breast, and with 
 hasty movement sought the ring; he found it, and 
 fixing on it passionate eyes, as though he would melt it 
 with their fire, he pressed it again and again to his lips, 
 
Qo HOMO SUM. 
 
 to his heart, to his lips again ; buried his face in his 
 hands and wept bitterly. 
 
 It was not till Hernias returned from the oasis that 
 Stephanus thought of his exhausted and fainting friend, 
 and with his son's assistance restored him to conscious- 
 ness. Paulus did not refuse to take some food and 
 drink, and in the cool of the evening, when he was 
 refreshed and invigorated, he sat again by the side of 
 Stephanus, and understood from the old man that 
 Magdalen was certainly his wife. 
 
 " Now I know," said Paulus, pointing to Hermas, 
 " how it is that from the first I felt such a love for the 
 lad there." 
 
 The old man softly pressed his hand, for he felt him- 
 self tied to his friend by a new and tender bond, and it 
 was with silent ecstasy that he received the assurance 
 that the wife he had always loved, the mother of his 
 child, had died a Christian and a martyr, and had found 
 before him the road to Heaven. 
 
 The old man slept as peacefully as a child the fol- 
 lowing night, and when, next morning, messengers 
 came from Ra'ithu to propose to Paulus that he should 
 leave the Holy Mountain, and go with them to become 
 their elder and ruler, Stephanus said, " Follow this 
 high call with all confidence, for you deserve it. I 
 really no longer have need of you, for I shall get well 
 now without any further nursing." 
 
 But Paulus, far more disturbed than rejoiced, begged 
 of the messengers a delay of seven days for reflection, 
 and after wandering restlessly from one holy spot to 
 another, at last went down into the oasis, there to pray 
 in the church. 
 
HOMO SUM. 99 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 It was a delicious refreshing evening; the full moon 
 rose calmly in the dark blue vault of the night-sky, and 
 poured a flood of light down on the cool earth. But 
 its rays did not give a strong enough light to pierce the 
 misty veil that hung over the giant mass of the Holy 
 Mountain ; the city of the oasis on the contrary was 
 fully illuminated ; the broad roadway of the high-street 
 looked to the wanderer who descended from the height 
 above like a shining path of white marble, and the 
 freshly plastered walls of the new church gleamed as 
 white as in the light of day. The shadows of the 
 houses and palm-trees lay like dark strips of carpet 
 across the road, which was nearly empty in spite of the 
 evening coolness, which usually tempted the citizens 
 out into the air. 
 
 The voices of men and women sounded out 
 through the open windows of the church; then the 
 door opened and the Pharanite Christians, who had 
 been partaking of the Supper — the bread and the cup 
 passed from hand to hand — came out into the moon- 
 light. The elders and deacons, the readers and singers, 
 the acolytes and the assembled priesthood of the place 
 followed the Bishop Agapitus, and the laymen came 
 behind Obedianus, the head-man of the oasis, and the 
 Senator Petrus ; with Petrus came his wife, his grown 
 up children and numerous slaves. 
 
 The church was empty when the door-keeper, who 
 was extinguishing the lights, observed a man in a dark 
 
IOO HOMO SUM. 
 
 corner of an antechamber through which a spring of 
 water softly plashed and trickled, and which was in- 
 tended for penitents. The man was prostrate on the 
 ground and absorbed in prayer, and he did not raise 
 himself till the porter called him, and threw the light 
 of his little lamp full in his face. 
 
 He began to address him with hard words, but 
 when he recognized in the belated worshipper the 
 anchorite Paulus of Alexandria he changed his key, and 
 said, in a soft and almost submissive tone of entreaty, 
 " You have surely prayed enough, pious man. The 
 congregation have left the church, and I must close it 
 on account of our beautiful new vessels and the heathen 
 robbers. I know that the brethren of Raithu have 
 chosen you to be their elder, and that his high honor 
 was announced to you by their messengers, for they 
 came to see our church too and greatly admired it. 
 Are you going at once to settle with them or shall you 
 keep the high-feast with us ?" 
 
 " That you shall hear to-morrow," answered Paulus, 
 who had risen from his knees, and was leaning against 
 a pillar of the narrow, bare, penitential chamber. " In 
 this house dwells One of whom I would fain take coun- 
 sel, and I beg of you to leave me here alone. If you 
 will, you can lock the door, and fetch me out later, 
 before you go to rest for the night." 
 
 " That cannot be," said the man considering, " for 
 my wife is ill, and my house is a long way from here at 
 the end of the town by the little gate, and I must take 
 the key this very evening to the Senator Petrus, because 
 his son, the architect Antonius, wants to begin the build- 
 ing of the new altar the first thing to-morrow morning. 
 The workmen are to be here by sunrise, and if — " 
 
HOMO SUM. IOI 
 
 " Show me the key," interrupted Paulus. " To 
 what untold blessing may this little instrument close or 
 open the issues ! Do you know, man, that I think 
 there is a way for us both out of the difficulty ! You 
 go to your sick wife, and I will take the key to the 
 senator as soon as I have finished my devotions." 
 
 The door-keeper considered for a few minutes, and 
 then acceded to the request of the future presbyter of 
 Raithu, while at the same time he begged him not to 
 linger too late. 
 
 As he went by the senator's house he smelt the 
 savor of roast meat; he was a poor man and thought 
 to himself, "They fast in there just when it pleases 
 them, but as for us, we fast when it pleases us least." 
 
 The good smell, which provoked this lament, rose 
 from a roast sheep, which was being prepared as a 
 feast-supper for the senator and the assembled mem- 
 bers of his household; even the slaves shared in the 
 late evening meal. 
 
 Petrus and Dame Dorothea sat in the Greek fashion, 
 side by side in a half reclining position on a simple 
 couch, and before them stood a table which no one 
 shared with them, but close to which was the seat for 
 the grown up children of the house. The slaves 
 squatted on the ground nearer to the door, and 
 crowded into two circles, each surrounding a steaming 
 dish, out of which they helped themselves to the brown 
 stew of lentils with the palm of the hand. A round, 
 grey-looking cake of bread lay near each, and was not 
 to be broken till the steward Jethro had cut and appor- 
 tioned the sheep. The juicy pieces of the back and 
 thighs of the animal were offered to Petrus and his 
 family to choose from, but the carver laid a slice for 
 
102 HOMO SUM. 
 
 each slave on his cake — a larger for the men and a 
 smaller for the women. Many looked with envy on 
 the more succulent piece that had fallen to a neigh- 
 bor's share, but not even those that had fared worst 
 dared to complain, for a slave was allowed to speak 
 only when his master addressed him, and Petrus forbid 
 even his children to discuss their food whether to praise 
 it or to find fault. 
 
 In the midst of the underlings sat Miriam; she 
 never ate much, and all meat was repulsive to her, so 
 she pushed the cut from the ribs that was given to her 
 over to an old garden-woman, who sat opposite, and 
 who had often given her a fruit or a little honey, for 
 Miriam loved sweet things. Petrus spoke not a word 
 to-day to his slaves, and very little even to his family ; 
 Dorothea marked the deep lines between his grave 
 eyes, not without anxiety, and noted how he pinched 
 his lips, when, forgetful of the food before him, he sat 
 lost in meditation. 
 
 The meal was ended, but still he did not move, nor 
 did he observe the enquiring glances which were turned 
 on him by many eyes; no one dared to rise before the 
 master gave the signal. 
 
 Miriam followed all his movements with more im- 
 patience than any of the others who were present ; she 
 rocked restlessly backwards and forwards, crumbled the 
 bread that she had left with her slender fingers, and her 
 breath now came fast and faster, and now seemed to 
 stop entirely. She had heard the court-yard gate open, 
 and had recognized Hernias ' step. 
 
 " He wants to speak to the master, in a moment he 
 will come in, and find me among these — " thought she, 
 and she involuntarily stroked her hand over her rough 
 
HOMO SUM. IO3 
 
 hair to smooth it, and threw a glance at the other 
 slaves, in which hatred and contempt were equally 
 marked. 
 
 But Hennas came not. Not for an instant did she 
 think that her ear had deceived her — was he waiting 
 now at the door for the conclusion of the meal ? Was 
 his late visit intended for the Gaulish lady, to whom 
 she had seen him go yesterday again with the wine-jar? 
 
 Sirona's husband, Phoebicius, as Miriam well knew, 
 was upon the mountain, and offering sacrifice by moon- 
 light to Mithras with his fellow heathen in a cave which 
 she had long known. She had seen the Gaul quit the 
 court during the time of evening-prayer with a few 
 soldiers, two of whom carried after him a huge coffer, 
 out of which rose the handle of a mighty cauldron, and 
 a skin full of water, and various vessels. She knew 
 that these men would pass the whole night in the grotto 
 of Mithras, and there greet "the young god" — the ris- 
 ing sun — with strange ceremonies ; for the inquisitive 
 shepherdess had more than once listened, when she had 
 led her goats up the mountain before the break of day, 
 and her ear had detected that the worshippers of Mithras 
 were performing their nocturnal solemnities. Now it 
 flashed across her mind, that Sirona was alone, and 
 that the late visit of Hermas probably concerned her, 
 and not the senator. 
 
 She started, there was quite a pain in her heart, 
 and, as usual, when any violent emotion agitated her 
 mind, she involuntarily sprang to her feet prompted by 
 the force of her passion, and had almost reached the 
 door, when the senator's voice brought her to a pause, 
 and recalled her to the consciousness of the impropriety 
 of her behavior. 
 
104 HOMO SUM. 
 
 . The sick man still lay with his inflamed wound and 
 fever down in the court, and she knew that she should 
 escape blame if in answer to her master's stern ques- 
 tioning she said that the patient needed her, but she 
 had never told a lie, and her pride forbade her even 
 now to speak an untruth. The other slaves stared with 
 astonishment, as she replied, " I wanted to get out; the 
 supper is so long." 
 
 Petrus glanced at the window, and perceiving how 
 high the moon stood, he shook his head as if in wonder 
 at his own conduct, then without blaming her he offered 
 a thanksgiving, gave the slaves the signal to leave the 
 room, and after receiving a kiss of " good-night" from 
 each of his children — from among whom Polykarp, the 
 sculptor, alone was missing — he withdrew to his own 
 room. But he did not remain alone there for long : so 
 soon as Dorothea had discussed the requirements of the 
 house for the next day with Marthana and the steward, 
 and had been through the sleeping-room of her 
 younger children, casting a loving glance on the peace- 
 ful sleepers, arranging here a coverlet, and there a 
 pillow — she entered her husband's room and called his 
 name. 
 
 Petrus stood still and looked round, and his grave 
 eyes were full of grateful tenderness as they met those 
 of his wife. Dorothea knew the soft and loving heart 
 within the stern exterior, and nodded to him with sym- 
 pathetic understanding : but before she could speak, he 
 said, " Come in, come nearer to me ; there is a heavy 
 matter in hand, and you cannot escape your share of 
 the burden." 
 
 " Give me my share !" cried she eagerly. " The 
 slim girl of former years has grown a broad-shouldered 
 
HOMO SUM. 105 
 
 old woman, so that it may be easier to her to help her 
 lord to bear the many burdens of life. But I am 
 seriously anxious — even before we went to church 
 something unsatisfactory had happened to you, and not 
 merely in the council-meeting. There must be some- 
 thing not right with one of the children." 
 
 " What eyes you have !" exclaimed Petrus. 
 
 " Dim, grey eyes," said Dorothea, " and not even 
 particularly keen. But when anything concerns you 
 and the children I could see it in the dark. You are 
 dissatisfied with Polykarp; yesterday, before he set out 
 for Ra'ithu, you looked at him so — so — what shall I 
 say ? I can quite imagine what it is all about, but I 
 believe you are giving yourself groundless anxiety. He 
 is young, and so lovely a woman as Sirona — " 
 
 Up to this point Petrus had listened to his wife in 
 silence. Now he clasped his hands, and interrupted 
 her, "Things certainly are not going on quite right — 
 but I ought to be used to it. What I meant to have 
 confided to you in a quiet hour, you tell me as if you 
 knew all about it!" 
 
 "And why not?" asked Dorothea. "When you 
 graft a scion on to a tree, and they have grown well 
 together, the grafted branch feels the bite of the saw 
 that divides the stock, or the blessing of the spring that 
 feeds the roots, just as if the pain or the boon were its 
 own. And you are the tree and I am the graft, and 
 the magic power of marriage has made us one. Your 
 pulses are my pulses, ^our thoughts have become mine, 
 and so I always know before you tell me what it is that 
 stirs your soul." 
 
 Dorothea's kind eyes moistened as she spoke, and 
 Petrus warmly clasped her hands in his as he said, 
 
106 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "And if the gnarled old trunk bears from time to time 
 some sweet fruit, he may thank the graft for it. I can- 
 not believe that the anchorites up yonder are peculiarly 
 pleasing to the Lord because they live in solitude. 
 Man comes to his perfect humanity only through his 
 wife and child, and he who has them not, can never 
 learn the most glorious heights and the darkest depths 
 of life and feeling. If a man may stake his whole ex- 
 istence and powers for anything, surely it is for his own 
 house." 
 
 "And you have honestly done so for ours! " cried 
 Dorothea. 
 
 "For ours," repeated Petrus, giving the words the 
 strongest accent of his deep voice. Two are stronger 
 than one, and it is long since we ceased to say T in 
 discussing any question concerning the house or the 
 children; and both have been touched by to-day's 
 events." 
 
 "The senate will not support you in constructing 
 the road?" 
 
 " No, the bishop gave the casting-vote. I need not 
 tell you how we stand towards each other, and I will 
 not blame him; for he is a just man, but in many 
 things we can never meet half-way. You know that he 
 was in his youth a soldier, and his very piety is rough — 
 I might almost say warlike. If we had yielded to his 
 views, and if our head man Obedianus had not sup- 
 ported me, we should not have had a single picture in 
 the church, and it would have looked like a barn rather 
 than a house of prayer. We never have understood 
 each other, and since I opposed his wish of making 
 Polykarp a priest, and sent the boy to learn of the 
 sculptor Thalassius — for even as a child he drew better 
 
HOMO SUM. I07 
 
 than many masters in these wretched days that produce 
 no great artists — since then, I say, he speaks of me as 
 if I were a heathen — " 
 
 "And yet he esteems you highly, that I know,'* 
 interrupted Dame Dorothea. 
 
 "I fully return his good opinion," replied Petrus, 
 "and it is no ordinary matter that estranges us. He 
 thinks that he only holds the true faith, and ought to 
 fight for it; he calls all artistic work a heathen abomi- 
 nation; he never felt the purifying influence of the 
 beautiful, and regards all pictures and statues as tend- 
 ing to idolatry. Still he allows himself to admire 
 Polykarp's figures of angels and the Good Shepherd, 
 but the lions put the old warrior in a rage. 'Ac- 
 cursed idols and works of the devil,' are what he calls 
 them." 
 
 " But there were lions even in the temple of Solo- 
 mon," cried Dorothea. 
 
 " I urged that, and also that in the schools of the 
 catechists, and in the educational history of animals 
 which we possess and teach from, the Saviour himself 
 is compared to a lion, and that Mark, the evangelist, 
 who brought the doctrine of the gospel to Alexandria, 
 is represented with a lion. But he withstood me more 
 and more violently, saying that Polykarp's works were 
 to adorn no sacred place, but the Csesareum, and that 
 to him is nothing but a heathen edifice, and the noble 
 works of the Greeks that are preserved there he calls 
 revolting images by which Satan ensnares the souls of 
 Christian men. The other senators can understand his 
 hard words, but they cannot follow mine; and so they 
 vote with him, and my motion to construct" the road- 
 way was thrown over, because it did not become a 
 
Io8 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Christian assembly to promote idolatry, and to smooth 
 a way for the devil." 
 
 "I can see that you must have answered them 
 sharply !" 
 
 "Indeed I believe so," answered Petrus, looking 
 down. " Many painful things were no doubt said, and 
 it was I that suffered for them. Agapitus, who was 
 looking at the deacons' reports, was especially dissatis- 
 fied with the account that I laid before them; they 
 blamed us severely because you gave away as much 
 bread to heathen households as to Christians. It is no 
 doubt true, but — " 
 
 "But," cried Dorothea eagerly, "hunger is just as 
 painful to the unbaptized, and their Christian neighbors 
 do not help them, and yet they too are our flesh and 
 blood. I should ill fulfil my office if I were to let them 
 starve, because the highest comfort is lacking to them.'' 
 
 "And yet," said Petrus, "the council decided that, 
 for the future, you must apply at the most a fourth part 
 of the grain allotted to their use. You need not fear 
 for them ; for the future some of our own produce may 
 go to them out of what we have hitherto sold. You 
 need not withdraw even a loaf from any one of your 
 proteges, but certainly may now be laid by the plans 
 for the road. Indeed there is no hurry for its comple- 
 tion, for Polykarp will now hardly be able to go on 
 with his lions here among us. Poor fellow ! with what 
 delight he formed the clay models, and how wonder- 
 fully he succeeded in reproducing the air and aspect of 
 the majestic beasts. It is as if he were inspired by the 
 spirit of the old Athenian masters. We must now con- 
 sider whether in Alexandria — " 
 
 " Rather let us endeavor," interrupted Dorothea, 
 
HOMO SUM. 109 
 
 "to induce him at once to put aside his models, and to 
 execute other more pious works. Agapitus has keen 
 eyes, and the heathen work is only too dear to the lad's 
 heart." 
 
 The senator's brow grew dark at the last words, and 
 he said, not without some excitement, " Everything that 
 the heathen do is not to be condemned. Polykarp must 
 be kept busy, constantly and earnestly occupied, for he 
 has set his eyes where they should not be set. Sirona 
 is the wife of another, and even in sport no man should 
 try to win his neighbor's wife. Do you think, the 
 Gaulish woman is capable of forgetting her duty?" 
 
 Dorothea hesitated, and after some reflection an- 
 swered, " She is a beautiful and vain child — a perfect 
 child; I mean in nature, and not in years, although she 
 certainly might be the grandchild of her strange hus- 
 band, for whom she feels neither love nor respect, nor, 
 indeed, anything but utter aversion. I know not what, 
 but something frightful must have come between them 
 even in Rome, and I have given up all attempts to 
 guide her heart back to him. In everything else she is 
 soft and yielding, and often, when she is playing with 
 the children, I cannot imagine where she finds her 
 reckless gaiety. I wish she were a Christian, for she is 
 very dear to me, why should I deny it? It is impos- 
 sible to be sad when she is by, and she is devoted to 
 me, and dreads my blame, and is always striving to win 
 my approbation. Certainly she tries to please every 
 one, even the children; but, so far as I can see, not 
 more Polykarp than any one else, although he is such 
 a fine young man. No, certainly not." 
 
 "And yet the boy gazes at her," said Petrus, "and 
 Phcebicius has noticed it; he met me yesterday when 
 
IIO HOMO SUM. 
 
 I came home, and, in his sour, polite manner, requested 
 me to advise my son, when he wished to offer a rose, 
 not to throw it into his window, as he was not fond of 
 flowers, and preferred to gather them himself for his 
 wife." 
 
 The senator's wife turned pale, and then exclaimed 
 shortly and positively, "We do not need a lodger, and 
 much as I should miss his wife, the best plan will be 
 for you to request him to find another dwelling." 
 
 "Say no more, wife," Petrus said sternly, and inter- 
 rupting her with a wave of his hand. "Shall we make 
 Sirona pay for it because our son has committed a folly 
 for her sake ? You yourself said, that her intercourse 
 with the children, and her respect for you, preserve her 
 from evil, and now shall we show her the door ? By 
 no means. The Gauls may remain in my house so 
 long as nothing occurs that compels me to send them 
 out of it. My father was a Greek, but through my 
 mother I have Amalekite blood in my veins, and I 
 should dishonor myself, if I drove from my threshold 
 any, with whom I had once broken bread under my 
 roof. Polykarp shall be warned, and shall learn what 
 he owes to us, to himself, and to the laws of God. I 
 know how to value his noble gifts, and I am his 
 friend, but I am also his master, and I will find means 
 of preventing my son from introducing the light con- 
 duct of the capital beneath his father's roof." 
 
 The last words were spoken with weight and deci- 
 sion, like the blows of a hammer, and stern resolve 
 sparkled in the senator's eyes. Nevertheless, his wife 
 went fearlessly up to him, and said, laying her hand on 
 his arm, "It is, indeed, well that a man can keep his 
 eyes set on what is just, when we women should follow 
 
HOMO SUM. Ill 
 
 the hasty impulse of our heart. Even in wrestling, men 
 only fight with lawful and recognized means, while 
 fighting women use their teeth and nails. You men 
 understand better how to prevent injustice than we do, 
 and that you have once more proved to me, but, in 
 carrying justice out, you are not our superiors. The 
 Gauls may remain in our house, and do you take Poly- 
 karp severely to task, but in the first instance as his 
 friend. Or would it not be better if you left it to me ? 
 He was so happy in thinking of the completion of his 
 lions, and in having to work for the great building in 
 the capital, and now it is all over. I wish you had 
 already broken that to him; but love stories are 
 women's affairs, and you know how good the boy is to 
 me. A mother's word sometimes has more effect than 
 a father's blow, and it is in life as it is in war ; the light 
 forces of archers go first into the field, and the heavily 
 armed division stays in the background to support 
 them; then, if the enemy will not yield, it comes for- 
 ward and decides the battle. First let me speak to the 
 lad. It may be that he threw the rose into Sirona's 
 window only in sport, for she plays with his brothers 
 and sisters as if she herself were one of them. I will 
 question him; for if it is so, it would be neither just nor 
 prudent to blame him. Some caution is needed even 
 in giving a warning; for many a one, who would never 
 have thought of stealing, has become a thief through 
 false suspicion. A young heart that is beginning to 
 love, is like a wild boy who always would rather take 
 the road he is warned to avoid, and when I was a girl, 
 I myself first discovered how much I liked you, when 
 the Senator Aman's wife — who wanted you for her own 
 daughter — advised me to be on my guard with you. 
 
112 HOMO SUM. 
 
 A man who has made such good use of his time, among 
 all the temptations of the Greek Sodom, as Polykarp, 
 and who has won such high praise from all his teachers 
 and masters, cannot have been much injured by the 
 light manners of the Alexandrians. It is in a man's 
 early years that he takes the bent which he follows 
 throughout his later life, and that he had done before 
 he left our house. Nay — even if I did not know what 
 a good fellow Polykarp is — I need only look at you to 
 say, 'A child that was brought up by this father, could 
 never turn out a bad man.'" 
 
 Petrus sadly shrugged his shoulders, as though he 
 regarded his wife's flattering words as mere idle folly, 
 and yet he smiled, as he asked, "Whose school of 
 rhetoric did you go to? So be it then; speak to the 
 lad when he returns from Raithu. How high the moon 
 is already; come to rest — Antonius is to place the altar 
 in the early dawn, and I wish to be present." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Miriam's ears had not betrayed her. While she 
 was detained at supper, Hermas had opened the court- 
 yard-gate; he came to bring the senator a noble young 
 buck, that he had killed a few hours before, as a thank- 
 offering for the medicine to which his father owed his 
 recovery. It would no doubt have been soon enough 
 the next morning, but he could find no rest up on the 
 mountain, and did not — and indeed did not care to — 
 conceal from himself the fact, that the wish to give ex- 
 pression to his gratitude attracted him down into the 
 
HOMO SUM. II3 
 
 oasis far less than the hope of seeing Sirona, and of 
 hearing a word from her lips. 
 
 Since their first meeting he had seen her several 
 times, and had even been into her house, when she had 
 given him the wine for his father, and when he had 
 taken back the empty flask. Once, as she was filling 
 the bottle which he held, out of the large jar,- her white 
 fingers had touched his, and her enquiry whether he 
 were afraid of her, or if not, why his hands which 
 looked so strong should tremble so violently, dwelt still 
 in his mind. The nearer he approached Petrus's house 
 the more vehemently his heart beat; he stood still in 
 front of the gate- way, to take breath, and to collect him- 
 self a little, for he felt that, agitated as he was, he 
 would find it difficult to utter any coherent words. 
 
 At last he laid his hand on the latch and entered the 
 yard. The watch-dogs already knew him, and only 
 barked once as he stepped over the threshold. 
 
 He brought a gift in his hand r and he wanted to 
 take nothing away, and yet he appeared to himself just 
 like a thief as he looked round, first at the main build- 
 ing lighted up by the moon, and then at the Gaul's 
 dwelling-house, which, veiled in darkeness, stood up as 
 a vague silhouette, and threw a broad dark shadow on 
 the granite flags of the pavement, which was trodden 
 to shining smoothness. There was not a soul to be 
 seen, and the reek of the roast sheep told him that 
 Petrus and his household were assembled at supper. 
 
 " I might come inopportunely on the feasters," said 
 he to himself, as he threw the buck over from his left to 
 his right shoulder, and looked up at Sirona's window, 
 which he knew only too well. 
 
 It was not lighted up, but a whiter and paler some- 
 
114 HOMO SUM. 
 
 thing appeared within its dark stone frame, and this 
 something, attracted his gaze with an irresistible spell; 
 it moved, and Sirona's greyhound set up a sharp bark- 
 ing. 
 
 It was she — it must be she! Her form rose before 
 his fancy in all its brilliant beauty, and the idea flashed 
 through his mind that she must be alone, for he had 
 met her husband and the old slave woman among 
 the worshippers of Mithras on their way to the moun- 
 tain. The pious youth, who so lately had punished his 
 flesh with the scourge to banish seductive dream-figures, 
 had in these few days become quite another man. He 
 would not leave the mountain, for his father's sake, but 
 he was quite determined no longer to avoid the way of 
 the world; nay, rather to seek it. He had abandoned 
 the care of his father to the kindly Paulus, and had 
 wandered about among the rocks; there he had prac- 
 tised throwing the discus, he had hunted the wild goats 
 and beasts of prey, and from time to time — but always 
 with some timidity — he had gone down into the oasis 
 to wander round the senator's house, and catch a 
 glimpse of Sirona. 
 
 Now that he knew that she was alone, he was ir- 
 resistibly drawn to her. What he desired of her, he 
 himself could not have said; and nothing was clear to 
 his mind beyond the wish to touch her fingers once 
 more. 
 
 Whether this were a sin or not, was all the same to 
 him; the most harmless play was called a sin, and every 
 thought of the world for which he longed, and he was 
 fully resolved to take the sin upon himself, if only he 
 might attain his end. Sin after all was nothing but a 
 phantom terror with which they frighten children, and 
 
HOMO SUM. . 115 
 
 the worthy Petrus had assured him that he might be a 
 man capable of great deeds. With a feeling that he was 
 venturing on an unheard of act he went towards Sirona's 
 window, and she at once recognized him as he stood 
 in the moonlight. 
 
 " Hernias ! " he heard her say softly. He was seized 
 with such violent terror that he stood as if spellbound, 
 the goat slipped from his shoulders, and he felt as if his 
 heart had ceased to beat. And again the sweet wom- 
 an's voice called, " Hermas, is it you ? What brings 
 you to us at such a late hour?" 
 
 He stammered an incoherent answer, and she said, 
 ■"I do not understand; come a little nearer." 
 
 Involuntarily he stepped forward into the shadow 
 of the house and close up to her window. She wore a 
 white robe with wide, open sleeves, and her* arms shone 
 in the dim light as white as her garment. The grey- 
 hound barked again; she quieted it, and then asked 
 Hermas how his father was, and whether he needed 
 some more wine. He replied that she was very kind, 
 angelically kind, but that the sick man was recovering 
 fast, and that she had already given him far too much. 
 Neither of them said anything that might not have 
 been heard by everybody, and yet they whispered as if 
 they were speaking of some forbidden thing. 
 
 " Wait a moment," said Sirona, and she disappeared 
 within the room; she soon reappeared, and said softly 
 and sadly, " I would ask you to come into the house, 
 but Ph&bicius has locked the door. I am quite alone; 
 hold the flask so that I may fill it through the open 
 window." 
 
 With these words she leaned over with the large jar; 
 she was strong, but the wine-jar seemed to her heavier 
 
Il6 HOMO SUM. 
 
 than on other occasions, and she said with a sigh, "The 
 amphora is too heavy for me." 
 
 He reached up to help her; again his fingers met 
 hers, and again he felt the ecstatic thrill which had 
 haunted his memory day and night ever since he first 
 had felt it. At this instant there was a sudden noise in 
 the house opposite; the slaves were coming out from 
 supper. Sirona knew what was happening; she started 
 and cried out, pointing to the senator's door, "For all 
 the gods' sake! they are coming out; and if they see 
 you here I am lost!" 
 
 Hermas looked hastily round the court, and listened 
 to the increasing noise in the other house, then, per- 
 ceiving that there was no possible escape from the 
 senator's people, who were close upon him, he cried 
 out to Sirona in a commanding tone, "Stand back," 
 and flung himself up through the window into the 
 Gaul's apartment. At the same moment the door op- 
 posite opened, and the slaves streamed out into the 
 yard. 
 
 In front of them all was Miriam, who looked all 
 round the wide space — expectant; seeking something, 
 and disappointed. He was not there, and yet she had 
 heard him come in; and the gate had not opened and 
 closed a second time, of that she was perfectly certain. 
 Some of the slaves went to the stables, others went 
 outside the gate into the street to enjoy the coolness of 
 the evening; they sat in groups on the ground, looking 
 up at the stars, chattering or singing. Only the shep- 
 herdess remained in the court-yard seeking him on all 
 sides, as if she were hunting for some lost trinket. She 
 searched even behind the millstones, and in the dark 
 sheds in which the stone-workers' tools were kept. 
 
HOMO SUM. 117 
 
 Then she stood still a moment and clenched her hands; 
 with a few light bounds she sprang into the shadow of 
 the Gaul's house. Just in front of Sirona's window lay 
 the steinbock; she hastily touched it with her slender 
 naked toes, but quickly withdrew her foot with a shud- 
 der, for it had touched the beast's fresh wound, wet 
 with its blood. She rapidly drew the conclusion that 
 he had killed it, and had thrown it down here, and that 
 he could not be far off. Now she knew where he was 
 in hiding — and she tried to laugh, for the pain she felt 
 seemed too acute and burning for tears to allay or cool 
 it. But she did not wholly lose her power of reflec- 
 tion. "They are in the dark," thought she, "and they 
 would see me, if I crept under the window to listen; 
 and yet I must know what they are doing there to- 
 gether." 
 
 She hastily turned her back on Sirona's house, 
 slipped into the clear moonlight, and after standing 
 there for a few minutes, went into the slaves' quarters. 
 An instant after, she slipped out behind the millstones, 
 and crept as cleverly and as silently as a snake along 
 the ground under the darkened base of the centurion's 
 house, and lay close under Sirona's window. 
 
 Her loudly beating heart made it difficult for even 
 her sharp ears to hear, but though she could not gather 
 all that he said, she distinguished the sound of his voice; 
 he was no longer in Sirona's room, but in the room that 
 looked out on the street. 
 
 Now she could venture to raise herself, and to look 
 in at the open window; the door of communication 
 between the two rooms was closed, but a streak of light 
 showed her that in the farther room, which was the 
 sitting-room, a lamp was burning. 
 
Il8 HOMO SUM. 
 
 She had already put up her hand in order to hoist 
 herself up into the dark room, when a gay laugh from 
 Sirona fell upon her ear. The image of her enemy rose 
 up before her mind, brilliant and flooded with light as 
 on that morning, when Hermas had stood just opposite, 
 bewildered by her fascination. And now — now — he 
 was actually lying at her feet, and saying sweet flatter- 
 ing words to her, and he would speak to her of love, 
 and stretch out his arm to clasp her — but she had 
 laughed. 
 
 Now she laughed again. Why was all so still again ? 
 Had she offered her rosy lips for a kiss? No doubt, 
 no doubt. And Hermas did not wrench himself from 
 her white arms, as he had torn himself from hers that 
 noon by the spring — torn himself away never to return. 
 
 Cold drops stood on her brow, she buried her hands 
 in her thick, black hair, and a loud cry escaped her — a 
 cry like that of a tortured animal. A few minutes more 
 and she had slipped through the stable and the gate by 
 which they drove the cattle in; and no longer mistress 
 of herself, was flying up the mountain to the grotto of 
 Mithras to warn Phcebicius. 
 
 The anchorite Gelasius saw from afar the figure of 
 the girl flying up the mountain in the moonlight:, and 
 her shadow flitting from stone to stone, and he threw 
 himself on the ground, and signed a cross on his brow, 
 for he thought he saw a goblin-form, one of the myr- 
 iad gods of the heathen — an Oread pursued by a Satyr. 
 
 Sirona had heard the girl's shriek. 
 
 " What was that ? " she asked the youth, who stood 
 before her in the full-dress uniform of a Roman officer, 
 as handsome as the young god of war, though awkward 
 and unsoldierly in his movements. 
 
HOMO SUM. 119 
 
 " An owl screamed — " replied Hernias. " My 
 father must at last tell me from what house we are de- 
 scended, and I will go to Byzantium, the new Rome, 
 and say to the emperor, ' Here am I, and I will fight 
 for you among your warriors.'" 
 
 " I like you so ! " exclaimed Sirona. 
 
 " If that is the truth," cried Hermas, " prove it to 
 me! Let me once press my lips to your shining gold 
 hair. You are beautiful, as sweet as a flower — as gay 
 and bright as a bird, and yet as hard as our mountain 
 rock. If you do not grant me one kiss, I shall long till 
 I am sick and weak before I can get away from here, 
 and prove my strength in battle." 
 
 "And if I yield," laughed Sirona, "you will be 
 wanting another and another kiss, and at last not get 
 away at all. No, no, my friend — I am the wiser of us 
 two. Now go into the dark room, I will look out and 
 see whether the people are gone in again, and whether 
 you can get off unseen from the street window, for you 
 have been here much too long already. Do you hear ? 
 — I command you." 
 
 Hermas obeyed with a sigh; Sirona opened the 
 shutter and looked out. The slaves were coming back 
 into the court, and she called out a friendly word or 
 two, which were answered with equal friendliness, for the 
 Gaulish lady, who never overlooked even the humblest, 
 was dear to them all. She took in the night-air with 
 deep-drawn breaths, and looked up contentedly at the 
 moon, for she was well content with herself. 
 
 When Hermas had swung himself up into her room, 
 she had started back in alarm ; he had seized her hand 
 and pressed his burning lips to her arm, and she let him 
 do it, for she was overcome with strange bewilderment. 
 
120 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Then she heard Dame Dorothea calling out, " Directly, 
 directly, I will only say good night first to the children." 
 
 These simple words, uttered in Dorothea's voice, 
 had a magical effect on the warm-hearted woman — 
 badly used and suspected as she was, and yet so well 
 formed for happiness, love and peace. When her hus- 
 band had locked her in, taking even her slave with him, 
 at first she had raved, wept, meditated revenge and 
 flight, and at last, quite broken down, had seated her- 
 self by the window in silent thought of her beautiful 
 home, her brothers and sisters, and the dark olive 
 groves of Arelas. 
 
 Then Hernias appeared. It had not escaped her 
 that the young anchorite passionately admired her, and 
 she was not displeased, for she liked him, and the con- 
 fusion w r ith which he had been overcome at the sight 
 of her flattered her and seemed to her doubly precious 
 because she knew that the hermit in his sheepskin, on 
 whom she had bestowed a gift of wine, was in fact a 
 young man of distinguished rank. And how truly to 
 be pitied was the poor boy, who had had his youth 
 spoilt by a stern father. A woman easily bestows some 
 tender feeling on the man that she pities ; perhaps be- 
 cause she is grateful to him for the pleasure of feeling 
 herself the stronger, and because through him and his 
 suffering she finds gratification for the noblest happiness 
 of a woman's heart — that of giving tender and helpful 
 care ; women's hands are softer than ours. In men's 
 hearts love is commonly extinguished when pity begins, 
 while admiration acts like sunshine on the budding 
 plant of a woman's inclination, and pity is the glory 
 which radiates from her heart. 
 
 Neither admiration nor pity, however, would have 
 
HOMO SUM. 12 r 
 
 been needed to induce Sirona to call Hermas to her 
 window ; she felt so unhappy and lonely, that any one 
 must have seemed welcome from whom she might look 
 for a friendly and encouraging word to revive her deeply 
 wounded self-respect. And there came the young an- 
 chorite, who forgot himself and everything else in her 
 presence, whose looks, whose movement, whose very 
 silence even seemed to do homage to her. And then 
 his bold spring into her room, and his eager wooing — 
 " This is love," said she to herself. Her cheeks glowed, 
 and when Hermas clasped her hand, and pressed her 
 arm to his lips, she could not repulse him, till Doro- 
 thea's voice reminded her of the worthy lady and of 
 the children, and through them of her own far-off sisters. 
 
 The thought of these pure beings flowed over her 
 troubled spirit like a purifying stream, and the question 
 passed through her mind, " What should I be without 
 these good folks over there, and is this great love-sick 
 boy, who stood before Polykarp just lately looking like 
 a school-boy, is he so worthy that I should for his sake 
 give up the right of looking them boldly in the face ? " 
 And she pushed Hermas roughly away, just as he was 
 venturing for the first time to apply his lips to her per- 
 fumed gold hair, and desired him to be less forward, and 
 to release her hand. 
 
 She spoke in a low voice, but with such decision, 
 that the lad, who was accustomed to the habit of 
 obedience, unresistingly allowed her to push him into 
 the sitting-room. There was a lamp burning on the 
 table, and on a bench by the wall of the room, which 
 was lined with colored stucco, lay the helmet, the cen- 
 turion's staff, and the other portions of the armor which 
 Phoebicius had taken off before setting out for the feast 
 
122 HOMO SUM. 
 
 of Mithras, in order to assume the vestments of one of 
 the initiated of the grade of " Lion." 
 
 The lamp-light revealed Sirona's figure, and as she 
 stood before him in all her beauty with glowing cheeks, 
 the lad's heart began to beat high, and with increased 
 boldness he opened his arms, and endeavored to draw 
 her to him; but Sirona avoided him and went behind 
 the table, and, leaning her hands on its polished surface 
 while it protected her like a shield, she lectured him in 
 wise and almost motherly words against his rash, in- 
 temperate, and unbecoming behavior. 
 
 Any one who was learned in the heart of woman 
 might have smiled at such words from such lips and in 
 such an hour; but Hermas blushed and cast down his 
 eyes, and knew not what to answer. A great change 
 had come over the Gaulish lady; she felt a great pride 
 in her virtue, and in the victory she had won over her- 
 self, and while she sunned herself in the splendor of her 
 own merits, she wished that Hermas too should feel and 
 recognize them. She began to expatiate on all that she 
 had to forego and to endure in the oasis, and she dis- 
 coursed of virtue and the duties of a wife, and of the 
 wickedness and audacity of men. 
 
 Hermas, she said, was no better than the rest, and 
 because she had shown herself somewhat kind to him, 
 he fancied already that he had a claim on her liking ; 
 but he was greatly mistaken, and if only the court- 
 yard had been empty, she would long ago have shown 
 him the door. 
 
 The young hermit was soon only half listening to 
 all she said, for his attention had been riveted by the 
 armor which lay before him, and which gave a new 
 direction to his excited feelings. He involuntarily put 
 
HOMO SUM. 123 
 
 out his hand towards the gleaming helmet, and inter- 
 rupted the pretty preacher with the question, "May 
 I try it on ?" 
 
 Sirona laughed out loud and exclaimed, much 
 amused and altogether diverted from her train of 
 thought, "To be sure. You ought to be a soldier. 
 How well it suits you! Take off your nasty sheepskin, 
 and let us see how the anchorite looks as a centurion." 
 
 Hermas needed no second telling; he decked 
 himself in the Gaul's armor with Sirona's help. We 
 human beings must indeed be in a deplorable plight; 
 otherwise how is it that from our earliest years we find 
 such delight in disguising ourselves; that is to say, in 
 sacrificing our own identity to the tastes of another 
 whose aspect we borrow. The child shares this inex- 
 plicable pleasure with the sage, and the stern man who 
 should condemn it would not therefore be the wiser, 
 for he who wholly abjures folly is a fool all the more 
 certainly the less he fancies himself one. Even dressing 
 others has a peculiar charm, especially for women; it 
 is often a question which has the greater pleasure, the 
 maid who dresses her mistress or the lady who wears 
 the costly garment. 
 
 Sirona was devoted to every sort of masquerading. 
 If it had been needful to seek a reason why the sena- 
 tor's children and grandchildren were so fond of her, by 
 no means last or least would have been the fact that 
 she would willingly and cheerfully allow herself to be 
 tricked out in colored kerchiefs, ribands, and flowers, 
 and on her part could contrive the most fantastic cos- 
 tumes for them. So soon as she saw Hermas with the 
 helmet on, the fancy seized her to carry through the 
 travesty he had begun. She eagerly and in perfect 
 
124 HOMO SUM. 
 
 innocence pulled the coat of armor straight, helped him 
 to buckle the breastplate and to fasten on the sword, 
 and as she performed .the task, at which Hermas proved 
 himself unskilful enough, her gay and pleasant laugh 
 rang out again and again. When he sought to seize 
 her hand, as he not seldom did, she hit him sharply on 
 the fingers, and scolded him. 
 
 Hernias' embarrassment thawed before this pleasant 
 sport, and soon he began to tell her how hateful the 
 lonely life on the mountain was to him. He told her 
 that Petrus himself had advised him to try his strength 
 out in the world, and he confided to her that if his 
 father got well, he meant to be a soldier, and do great 
 deeds. She quite agreed with him, praised and en- 
 couraged him, then she criticised his slovenly deport- 
 ment, showed him with comical gravity how a warrior 
 ought to stand and walk, called herself his drill-master, 
 and was delighted at the zeal with which he strove to 
 imitate her. 
 
 In such play the hours passed quickly. Hermas 
 was' proud of himself in his soldierly garb, and was 
 happy in her presence and in the hope of future 
 triumphs; and Sirona was gay, as she had usually been 
 only when playing with the children, so that even 
 Miriam's wild cry, which the youth explained to be the 
 scream of an owl, only for a moment reminded her of 
 the danger in which she was placing herself. Petrus' 
 slaves had long gone to rest before she began to weary 
 of amusing herself with Hermas, and desired him to 
 lay aside her husband's equipment, and to leave her. 
 Hermas obeyed while she warily opened the shutters, 
 and turning to him, said, " You cannot venture through 
 the court-yard; you must go through this window into 
 
sti 
 he 
 
 br 
 
 HOMO SUM. I25 
 
 the open street. But there is some one coming down 
 the road; let him pass first, it will not be long to wait, 
 for he is walking quickly." 
 
 She carefully drew the shutters to, and laughed to 
 see how clumsily Hermas set to work to unbuckle the 
 greaves; but the gay laugh died upon her lips when 
 the gate flew open, the greyhound and the senator's 
 watch-dogs barked loudly, and she recognized her 
 husband's voice as he ordered the dogs to be quiet. 
 
 " Fly — fly — for the gods' sake ! " she cried in a 
 trembling voice. With that ready presence of mind 
 with which destiny arms the weakest woman in great 
 and sudden danger, she . extinguished the lamp, flung 
 open the shutter, and pushed Hermas to the window. 
 The boy did not stay to bid her farewell, but swung 
 himself with a strong leap down into the road, and, 
 followed by the barking of the dogs, which roused all 
 the neighboring households, he flew up the street to the 
 little church. 
 
 He had not got more than half-way when he saw a 
 man coming towards him; he sprang into the shadow 
 of a house, but the belated walker accelerated his steps, 
 and came straight up to him. He set off running again, 
 but the other pursued him, and kept close at his heels 
 till he had passed all the houses and began to go up 
 the mountain-path. Hermas felt that he was outstrip- 
 ping his pursuer, and was making ready for a spring 
 over a block of stone that encumbered the path, when 
 he heard his name called behind him, and he stood 
 still, for he recognized the voice of the man from whom 
 he was flying as that of his good friend Paulus. 
 
 You indeed" said the Alexandrian, panting for 
 breath. "Yes, you are swifter than I. Years hang 
 
126 HOMO SUM. 
 
 lead on our heels, but do you know what it is that 
 lends them the swiftest wings ? You have just learned 
 it! It is a bad conscience; and pretty things will be 
 told about you; the dogs have barked it all out loud 
 enough to the night." 
 
 "And so they may!" replied Hermas defiantly, and 
 trying in vain to free himself from the strong grasp of 
 the anchorite who held him firmly. "I have done 
 nothing wrong." 
 
 "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife!" inter- 
 rupted Paulus in a tone of stern severity. "You have 
 been with the centurion's pretty wife, and were taken 
 by surprise. Where is your sheepskin?" 
 
 Hermas started, felt on his shoulder, and ex- 
 claimed, striking his fist against his forehead, " Merciful 
 Heaven! — I have left it there! The raging Gaul will 
 find it." 
 
 " He did not actually see you there ? " asked Paulus 
 eagerly. 
 
 "No, certainly not," groaned Hermas, "but the 
 skin—" 
 
 "Well, well," muttered Paulus. "Your sin is none 
 the less, but something may be done in that case. 
 Only think if it came to your father's ears; it might 
 cost him his life." 
 
 "And that poor Sirona!" sighed Herjnas. 
 
 " Leave me to settle that," exclaimed Paulus. " I 
 will make everything straight with her. There, take my 
 sheepskin. You will not? Well, to be sure, the man 
 who does not fear to commit adultery would make 
 nothing of becoming his father's murderer. — There, that 
 is the way! fasten it together over your shoulders; you 
 will need it, for you must quit this spot, and not for 
 
HOMO SUM. 127 
 
 to-day and to-morrow only. You wanted to go out 
 into the world, and now you will have the opportunity 
 of showing whether you really are capable of walking 
 on your own feet. First go to Raithu and greet the 
 pious Nikon in my name, and tell him that I remain 
 here on the mountain, for after long praying in the 
 church I have found myself unworthy of the office of 
 elder which they offered me. Then get yourself car- 
 ried by some ship's captain across the Red Sea, and 
 wander up and down the Egyptian coast. The hordes 
 of the Blemmyes have lately shown themselves there; 
 keep your eye on them, and when the wild bands are 
 plotting some fresh outbreak you can warn the watch 
 on the mountain-peaks; how to cross the sea and so 
 outstrip them, it will be your business to find out. 
 Do you feel bold enough and capable of accomplishing 
 this task? Yes? So I expected! Now may the Lord 
 guide you. I will take care of your father, and his 
 blessing and your mother's will rest upon you if you 
 sincerely repent, and if you now do your duty." 
 
 "You shall learn that I am a man," cried Hermas 
 with sparkling eyes. " My bow and arrows are lying 
 in your cave, I will fetch them and then — aye! you 
 shall see whether you sent the right man on the errand. 
 Greet my father, and once more give me your hand." 
 
 Paulus grasped the boy's right hand, drew him to 
 him, and kissed his forehead with fatherly tenderness. 
 Then he said, "In my cave, under the green stone, 
 you will find six gold-pieces; take three of them with 
 you on your journey. You will probably need them — 
 at any rate to pay your passage. Now be off, and get 
 to Raithu in good time." 
 
 Hermas hurried up the mountain, his head full of 
 
128 HOMO SUM. 
 
 the important task that had been laid upon him; daz- 
 zling visions of the great deeds he was to accomplish 
 eclipsed the image of the fair Sirona, and he was so 
 accustomed to believe in the superior insight and kind- 
 ness of Paulus that he feared no longer for Sirona now 
 that his friend had made her affair his own. 
 
 The Alexandrian looked after him, and breathed a 
 short prayer for him; then he went down again into 
 the valley. 
 
 It was long past midnight, and the moon was sink- 
 ing; it grew cooler and cooler, and since he had given 
 his sheepskin to Hennas he had nothing on, but his 
 thread-bare coat. Nevertheless he went slowly* on- 
 wards, stopping every now and then, moving his arms, 
 and speaking incoherent words in a low tone to him- 
 self. 
 
 He thought of Hermas and Sirona, of his own 
 youth, and of how in Alexandria he himself had tapped 
 at the shutters of the dark-haired Aso, and the fair 
 Simaitha. 
 
 "A child — a mere boy," he murmured. "Who 
 would have thought it? The Gaulish woman no 
 doubt may be handsome, and as for him, it is a fact, 
 that as he threw the discus I was myself surprised at 
 his noble figure. And his eyes — aye, he has Magdalen's 
 eyes! If the Gaul had found him with his wife, and 
 had run his sword through his heart, he would have 
 gone unpunished by the earthly judge — however, his 
 father is spared this sorrow. In this desert the old man 
 thought that his darling could not be touched by the 
 world and its pleasures. And now? These brambles 
 I once thought lay dried up on the earth, and could 
 never get up to the top of the palm-tree where the 
 
HOMO SUM. 129 
 
 dates ripen, but a bird flew by, and picked up the 
 berries, and carried them into its nest at the highest 
 point of the tree. 
 
 "Who can point out the road that another will take, 
 and say to-day, * To-morrow I shall find him thus and 
 not otherwise,' 
 
 "We fools flee into the desert in order to forget the 
 world, and the world pursues us and clings to our 
 skirts. Where are the shears that are keen enough to 
 cut the shadow from beneath our feet? What is the 
 prayer that can effectually release us — born of the 
 flesh — from the burden of the flesh? My Redeemer, 
 Thou Only One, who knowest it, teach it to me, the 
 basest of the base." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Within a few minutes after Hermas had flung him- 
 self out of window into the roadway, Phcebicius walked 
 into his sleeping-room. Sirona had had time to throw 
 herself on to her couch; she was terribly frightened, 
 and had turned her face to the wall. Did he actually 
 know that some one had been with her? And who 
 could have betrayed her, and have called him home? 
 Or could he have come home by accident sooner than 
 usual? 
 
 It was dark in the room, and he could not see her 
 face, and yet she kept her eyes shut as if asleep, for 
 every fraction of a minute in which she could still es- 
 cape seeing him in his fury seemed a reprieve; and yet 
 her heart beat so violently that it seemed to her that he 
 
130 HOMO SUM. 
 
 must hear it, when he approached the bed with a soft 
 step that was peculiar to him. She heard him walk up 
 and down, and at last go into the kitchen that adjoined 
 the sleeping-room. In a few moments she perceived 
 through her half-closed eyes, that he had brought in a 
 light; he had lighted a lamp at the hearth, and now 
 searched both the rooms. 
 
 As yet he had not spoken to her, nor opened his 
 lips to utter a word. 
 
 Now he was in the sitting-room, and now — involun- 
 tarily she drew herself into a heap, and pulled the cov- 
 erlet over her head — now he laughed aloud, so loud 
 and scornfully, that she felt her hands and feet turn 
 cold, and a rushing crimson mist floated before her 
 eyes. Then the light came back into the bed-room, 
 and came nearer and nearer. She felt her head pushed 
 by his hard hand, and with a feeble scream she flung 
 off the coverlet and sat up. 
 
 Still he did not speak a word, but what she saw 
 was quite enough to smother the last spark of her 
 courage and hope, for her husband's eyes showed only 
 the whites, his sallow features were ashy-pale, and on 
 his brow the branded mark of Mithras stood out more 
 clearly than ever. In his right hand he held the lamp, 
 in his left Hernias' sheepskin. 
 
 As his haggard eye met hers he held the ancho- 
 rite's matted garment so close to her face, that it touched 
 her. Then he threw it violently on the floor, and asked 
 in a low, husky voice, " What is that ? " 
 
 She was silent. He went up to the little table near 
 her bed; on it stood her night-draught in a pretty 
 colored glass, that Polykarp had brought her from Alex- 
 andria as a token, and with the back of his hand he 
 
HOMO SUM. I31 
 
 swept it from the table, so that it fell on the dais, and 
 flew with a crash into a thousand fragments. She 
 screamed, the greyhound sprang up and barked at the 
 Gaul. He seized the little beast's collar, and flung it 
 so violently across the room, that it uttered a pitiful cry 
 of pain. The dog had belonged to Sirona since she 
 was quite a girl, it had come with her to Rome, and 
 from thence to the oasis; it clung to her with affection, 
 and she to it, for Iambe liked no one to caress and 
 stroke her so much as her mistress. She was so much 
 alone, and the greyhound was always with her, and not 
 only entertained her by such tricks as any other dog 
 might have learned, but was to her a beloved, dumb, 
 but by no means deaf, companion from her early home, 
 who would prick its ears when she spoke the name of 
 her dear little sisters in distant Arelas, from whom she 
 had not heard for years; or it would look sadly in her 
 face, and kiss her white hands, when longing forced 
 tears into her eyes. 
 
 In her solitary, idle, childless existence Iambe was 
 much, very much, to her, and now as she saw her faith- 
 ful companion and friend creep ill-treated and whining 
 up to her bed — as the supple animal tried in vain to 
 spring up and take refuge in her lap, and held out to 
 his mistress his trembling, perhaps broken, little paw, 
 fear vanished from the miserable young woman's heart 
 — she sprang from her couch, took the little dog in her 
 arms, and exclaimed with a glance, which flashed with 
 anything rather than fear or repentance: "You do not 
 touch the poor little beast again, if you take my advice." 
 
 " I will drown it to-morrow morning," replied Phceb- 
 icius with perfect indifference, but with an evil smile on 
 his flaccid lips. "So many two-legged lovers make 
 
132 HOMO SUM. 
 
 themselves free to my house, that I do not see why I 
 should share your affections with a quadruped into the 
 bargain. How came this sheepskin here?" Sirona 
 vouchsafed no answer to this last question, but she ex- 
 claimed in great excitement, "By God — by your God 
 — by the mighty Rock, and by all the gods ! if you do 
 the little beast a harm, it will be the last day I stop in 
 your house." 
 
 " Hear her! " said the centurion, "and where do you 
 propose to travel to ? The desert is wide and there is 
 room and to spare to starve in it, and for your bones to 
 bleach there. How grieved your lovers would be — for 
 their sakes I will take care before drowning the dog to 
 lock in its mistress." 
 
 "Only try to touch me," screamed Sirona beside 
 herself, and springing to the window. " If you lay a 
 finger on me, I will call for help, and Dorothea and her 
 husband will protect me against you." 
 
 "Hardly," answered Phcebicius drily. "It would 
 suit you no doubt to find yourself under the same roof 
 as that great boy who brings you colored glass, and 
 throws roses into your window, and perhaps has strewed 
 the road with them by which he found his way to you 
 to-day. But there are nevertheless laws which protect 
 the Roman citizen from criminals and impudent se- 
 ducers. You were always a great deal too much in the 
 house over there, and you have exchanged your games, 
 with the little screaming beggars for one with the grown- 
 up child, the rose-thrower — the fop, who, for your sake, 
 and not to be recognized, covers up his purple coat 
 with a sheepskin! Do you think, you can teach me 
 anything about lovesick night- wanderers and women ? 
 I see through it all! Not one step do you set hence- 
 
HOMO SUM. 133 
 
 forth across Petrus' threshold. There is the open win- 
 dow — scream — scream as loud as you will, and let all 
 the people know of your disgrace. I have the greatest 
 mind to carry this sheepskin to the judge, the first 
 thing in the morning. I shall go now, and set the room 
 behind the kitchen in order for you; there is no win- 
 dow there through which men in sheepskin can get in- 
 to my house. You shall live there till you are tamed, 
 and kiss my feet, and confess what has been going on 
 here to-night. I shall learn nothing from the senator's 
 slaves, that I very well know; for you have turned all 
 their heads too — they grin with delight when they see 
 you. All friends are made welcome by you, even when 
 they wear nothing but sheepskin. But they may do 
 what they please — I have the right keeper for you in 
 my own hand. I am going at once — you may scream 
 if you like, but I should myself prefer that you should 
 keep quiet. As to the dog, we have not yet heard the 
 last of the matter; for the present I will keep him here. 
 If you are quiet" and come to your senses, he may live 
 for aught I care; but if you are refractory, a rope 
 and a stone can soon be found, and the stream runs 
 close below. You know I never jest — least of all just 
 now." 
 
 Sirona's whole frame was in the most violent agita- 
 taion. Her breath came quickly, her limbs trembled, 
 but she could not find words to answer him. 
 
 Phcebicius saw what was passing in her mind, and 
 he went on, "You may snort proudly now; but an hour 
 will come when you will crawl up to me like your lame 
 •dog, and pray for mercy. I have another idea — you 
 will want a couch in the dark room, and it must be soft, 
 or I shall be blamed; I will spread out the sheepskin 
 
134 HOMO SUM. 
 
 for you. You see I know how to value your adorer's 
 offerings." 
 
 The Gaul laughed loud, seized the hermit's garment, 
 and went with the lamp into the dark room behind the 
 kitchen, in which vessels and utensils of various sorts 
 were kept. These he set on one side to turn it into 
 a sleeping-room for his wife, of whose guilt he was 
 fully convinced. 
 
 Who the man was for whose sake she had dis- 
 honored him, he knew not, for Miriam had said nothing 
 more than, "Go home, your wife is laughing with her 
 lover." 
 
 While her husband was still threatening and storm- 
 ing, Sirona had said to herself, that she would rather 
 die than live any longer with this man. That she her- 
 self was not free from fault never occurred to her mind. 
 He who is punished more severely than he deserves, 
 easily overlooks his own fault in his feeling of the 
 judge's injustice. 
 
 Phcebicius was right; neither Petrus nor Dorothea 
 had it in their power to protect her against him, a 
 Roman citizen. If she could not contrive to help her- 
 self she was a prisoner, and without air, light, and free- 
 dom she could not live. During his last speech her 
 resolution had been quickly matured, and hardly had 
 he turned his back and crossed the threshold, than she 
 hurried up to her bed, wrapped the trembling grey- 
 hound in the coverlet, took it in her arms like a child, 
 and ran into the sitting-room with her light burden; 
 the shutters were still open of the window through 
 which Hermas had fled into the open. With the help 
 of a stool she took the same way, let herself slip down 
 from the sill into the street, and hastened on without 
 
HOMO SUM. 
 
 *35 
 
 aim or goal — inspired only by the wish to escape 
 durance in the dark room, and to burst every bond that 
 tied her to her hated mate — up the church-hill and 
 along the road which lead over the mountain to the 
 sea. 
 
 Phoebicius gave her a long start, for after having 
 arranged her prison he remained some time in the little 
 room behind the kitchen, not in order to give her time, 
 collect his thoughts or to reflect on his future action, 
 but simply because he felt utterly exhausted. 
 
 The centurion was nearly sixty years of age, and 
 his frame, originally a powerful one, was now broken 
 by every sort of dissipation, and could no longer resist 
 the effects of the strain and excitement of this night. 
 
 The lean, wiry, and very active man did not usually 
 fall into these fits of total enervation excepting in the 
 daytime, for after sundown a wonderful change would 
 come over the gray-headed veteran, who nevertheless 
 still displayed much youthful energy in the exercise of 
 his official duties. At night his drooping eyelids, that 
 almost veiled his eyes, opened more wildly, his flaccid 
 hanging under-lip closed firmly, his long neck and 
 narrow elongated head were held erect, and when, at a 
 later hour, he went out to drinking-bouts or to the 
 service in honor of Mithras, he might often still be 
 taken for a fine, indomitable young man. 
 
 But when he was drunk he was no longer gay, but 
 wild, braggart, and noisy. It frequently happened that 
 before he left the carouse, while he was still in the 
 midst of his boon-companions, the syncope would come 
 upon him which had so often alarmed Sirona, and from 
 which he could never feel perfectly safe even when he 
 was on duty at the head of his soldiers. 
 
136 HOMO SUM. 
 
 The vehement big man in such moments offered a 
 terrible image of helpless impotence; the paleness of 
 death would overspread his features, his back was as if 
 it were broken, and he lost his control over every limb. 
 His eyes only continued to move, and now and then a 
 shudder shook his frame. His people said that when 
 he was in this condition, the centurion's ghastly demon 
 had entered into him, and he himself believed in this 
 evil spirit, and dreaded it; nay, he had attempted to be 
 released through heathen spells, and even through 
 Christian exorcisms. Now he sat in the dark room on 
 the sheepfell, which in scorn of his wife he had spread 
 on a hard wooden bench. His hands and feet turned 
 cold, his eyes glowed, and the power to move even a 
 linger had wholly deserted him; only his lips twitched, 
 and his inward eye, looking back on the past with pre- 
 ternaturally sharpened vision, saw, far away and beyond, 
 the last frightful hour. 
 
 " If," thought he, " after my mad run down to the 
 oasis, which few younger men could have vied with, I 
 had given the reins to my fury instead of restraining it, 
 the demon would not have mastered me so easily. 
 How that devil Miriam's eyes flashed as she told me 
 that a man was betraying me. She certainly must have 
 seen the wearer of the sheepskin, but I lost sight of her 
 before I reached the oasis; I fancy she turned and 
 went up the mountain. What indeed might not Sirona 
 have done to her? That woman snares all hearts with 
 her eyes as a bird-catcher snares birds with his flute. 
 How the fine gentlemen ran after her in Rome ! Did 
 she dishonor me there, I wonder? She dismissed the 
 Legate Quintillus, who was so anxious to please me — I 
 may thank that fool of a woman that he became my 
 
HOMO SUM. 137 
 
 enemy — but he was older even than I, and she likes 
 young men best. She is like all the rest of them, and 
 I of all men might have known it. It is the way of the 
 world: to-day one gives a blow and to-morrow takes 
 one." 
 
 A sad smile passed over his lips, then his features 
 settled into a stern gravity, for various unwelcome 
 images rose clearly before his mind, and would not be 
 got rid of. 
 
 His conscience stood in inverse relation to the 
 vigor of his body. When he was well, his too darkly 
 stained past life troubled him little; but when he was 
 unmanned by weakness, he was incapable of fighting 
 the ghastly demon that forced upon his memory in 
 painful vividness those very deeds which he would most 
 willingly have forgotten. In such hours he must need 
 remember his friend, his benefactor, and superior officer, 
 the Tribune Servianus, whose fair young wife he had 
 tempted with a thousand arts to forsake her husband 
 and child, and fly with him into the wide world; and 
 at this moment a bewildering illusion made him fancy 
 that he was the Tribune Servianus, and yet at the same 
 time himself. Every hour of pain, and the whole bitter 
 anguish that his betrayed benefactor had suffered 
 through his act when he had seduced Glycera, he him- 
 self now seemed to realize, and at the same time the 
 enemy that had betrayed him, Servianus, was none 
 other than himself, Phcebicius, the Gaul. He tried to 
 protect himself and meditated revenge against the 
 seducer, and still he could not altogether lose the sense 
 of his own identity. 
 
 This whirl of mad imagining, which he vainly en- 
 deavored to make clear to himself, threatened to dis- 
 
138 HOMO SUM. 
 
 tract his reason, and he groaned aloud; the sound of 
 his own voice brought him back to actuality. 
 
 He was Phcebicius again and not another, thar he 
 knew now, and yet he could not completely bring him- 
 self to comprehend the situation. The image of the 
 lovely Glycera, who had followed him to Alexandria r 
 and whom he had there abandoned, when he had 
 squandered his last piece of money and her last costly 
 jewels in the Greek city, no longer appeared to him 
 alone, but always side by side with his wife Sirona. 
 
 Glycera had been a melancholy sweetheart, who 
 had wept much, and laughed little after running away 
 from her husband; he fancied he could hear her speak- 
 ing soft words of reproach, while Sirona defied him with 
 loud threats, and dared to nod and signal to the sena- 
 tor's son Polykarp. 
 
 The weary dreamer angrily shook himself, collected 
 his thoughts, doubled his fist, and lifted it angrily ; this 
 movement was the first sign of returning physical 
 energy; he stretched his limbs like a man awaking from 
 sleep, rubbed his eyes, pressed his hands to his temples; 
 by degrees full consciousness returned to him, and with 
 it the recollection of all that had occurred in the last 
 hour or two. 
 
 He hastily left the dark room, refreshed himself in 
 the kitchen with a gulp of wine, and went up to the 
 open window to gaze at the stars. 
 • It was long past midnight; he was reminded of his 
 companions now sacrificing on the mountain, and 
 addressed a long prayer "to the crown," "the invinci- 
 ble sun-god," "the great light," "the god begotten oi 
 the rock," and to many other names of Mithras; for 
 since he had belonged to the mystics of this divinity > 
 
HOMO SUM. 139 
 
 he had become a zealous devotee, and could fast too 
 with extraordinary constancy. He had already passed 
 through several of the eighty trials, to which a man 
 had to subject himself before he could attain to the 
 highest grades of the initiated, and the weakness which 
 had just now overpowered him, had attacked him for 
 the first time, after he had for a whole week lain for 
 hours in the snow, besides fasting severely, in order to 
 attain the grade of "lion." 
 
 Sirona's rigorous mind was revolted by all these 
 practices, and the decision with which she had always 
 refused to take any part in them, had widened the 
 breach which, without that, parted her from her hus- 
 band. Phcebicius was, in his fashion, very much in 
 earnest with all these things; for they alone saved him 
 in some measure from himself, from dark memories, and 
 from the fear of meeting the reward of his evil deeds 
 in a future life, while Sirona found her best comfort in 
 the remembrance of her early life, and so gathered 
 courage to endure the miserable present cheerfully, and 
 to hold fast to hope for better times. 
 
 Phoebicius ended his prayer to-day — a prayer for 
 strength to break his wife's strong spirit, for a success- 
 ful issue to his revenge on her seducer — ended it with- 
 out haste, and with careful observance of all the pre- 
 scribed forms. Then he took two strong ropes from 
 the wall, pulled himself up, straight and proud, as if he 
 were about to exhort his soldiers to courage before a 
 battle, cleared his throat like an orator in the Forum 
 before he begins his discourse, and entered the bed- 
 room with a dignified demeanor. Not the smallest 
 suspicion of the possibility of her escape troubled his 
 sense of security, when, not finding Sirona in the sleep- 
 
140 HOMO SUM. 
 
 ing-room, he went into the sitting-room to carry out 
 the meditated punishment. Here again — no one. 
 
 He paused in astonishment ; but the thought that 
 she could have fled appeared to him so insane, that he 
 immediately and decisively dismissed it. No doubt she 
 feared his wrath, and was hidden under her bed or be- 
 hind the curtain which covered his clothes. "The 
 dog," thought he, " is still cowering by her — " and he 
 began to make a noise, half whistling and half hissing, 
 which Iambe could not bear, and which always pro- 
 voked her to bark angrily — but in vain. All was still 
 in the vacant room, still as death. He was now se- 
 riously anxious ; at first deliberately, and then with 
 rapid haste, he threw the light under every vessel, into 
 every corner, behind every cloth, and rummaged in 
 places that not even a child — nay hardly a frightened 
 bird could have availed itself of for concealment. At 
 last his right hand fairly dropped the ropes, and his left, 
 in which he held the lamp, began to tremble. He found 
 the shutters of the sleeping-room open, where Sirona 
 had been sitting on the seat looking at the moon, before 
 Hermas had come upon the scene. " Then she is not 
 here!" he muttered, and setting the lamp on the little 
 table, from which he had just now flung Polykarp's 
 glass, he tore open the door, and hurried into the court- 
 yard. That she could have swung herself out into the 
 the road, and have set out in the night for the open 
 desert, had not yet entered into his mind. He shook 
 the door that closed in the homestead, and found it 
 locked; the watch-dogs roused themselves, and gave 
 tongue, when Phcebicius turned to Petrus' house, and 
 began to knock at the door with the brazen knocker, 
 at first softly and then with growing anger; he con- 
 
homo sum. 14 r 
 
 sidered it as certain that his wife had sought and found 
 protection under the senator's roof. He could have 
 shouted with rage and anguish, and yet he hardly 
 thought of his wife and the danger of losing her, but 
 only of Polykarp and the disgrace he had wrought upon 
 him, and the reparation he would exact from him, and 
 his parents, who had dared to tamper with his house- 
 hold rights — his, the imperial centurion's. 
 
 What was Sirona to him ? In the flush of an hour 
 of excitement he had linked her destiny to his. 
 
 At Arelas, about two years since, one of his com- 
 rades had joined their circle of boon-companions, and 
 had related that he had been the witness of a remark- 
 able scene. A number of young fellows had surrounded 
 a boy and had unmercifully beaten him — he himself 
 knew not wherefore. The little one had defended him- 
 self bravely, but was at last overcome by numbers. 
 " Then suddenly," continued the soldier, " the door of 
 a house near the circus opened, and a young girl with 
 long golden hair flew out, and drove the boys to flight, 
 and released the victim, her brother, from his tor- 
 mentors. She looked like a lioness," cried the narra- 
 tor, " Sirona she is called, and of all the pretty girls of 
 Arelas, she is beyond a doubt the prettiest." This 
 opinion was confirmed on all sides, and Phcebicius, 
 who at that time had just been admitted to the grade 
 of " lion " among the worshippers of Mithras, and liked 
 very well to hear himself called " the lion," exclaimed, 
 " I have long been seeking a lioness, and here it seems 
 to me that I have found one. Phoebicius and Sirona — 
 the two names sound very finely together." 
 
 On the following day he asked Sirona of her father 
 for his wife, and as he had to set out for Rome in a few 
 
142 HOMO SUM. 
 
 days the wedding was promptly celebrated. She had 
 never before quitted Arelas, and knew not what she 
 was giving up, when she took leave of her father's 
 house perhaps for ever. In Rome Phoebicius and his 
 young wife met again ; there many admired the beau- 
 tiful woman, and made every effort to obtain her favor, 
 but to him she was only a lightly won, and therefore a 
 lightly valued, possession; nay, ere long no more than 
 a burden, ornamental no doubt but troublesome to 
 guard. When presently his handsome wife attracted 
 the notice of the legate, he endeavored to gain profit 
 and advancement through her, but Sirona had rebuffed 
 Quintillus with such insulting disrespect, that his superior 
 officer became the centurion's enemy, and contrived to 
 procure his removal to the oasis, which was tantamount 
 to banishment. 
 
 From that time he had regarded her too as his 
 enemy, and firmly believed that she designedly showed 
 herself most friendly to those who seemed most obnox- 
 ious to him, and among these he reckoned Polykarp. 
 
 Once more the knocker sounded on the senator's 
 door; it opened, and Petrus himself stood before the 
 raging Gaul, a lamp in his hand. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The unfortunate Paulus sat on a stone bench in 
 front of the senator's door, and shivered ; for, as dawn 
 approached, the night-air grew cooler, and he was ac- 
 customed to the warmth of the sheepskin, which he had 
 now given to Hermas. In. his hand he held the key of 
 
HOMO SUM. 143 
 
 the church, which he had promised the door-keeper to 
 deliver to Petrus; but all was so still in the senator's 
 house, that he shrank from rousing the sleepers. 
 
 " What a strange night this has been ! " he muttered 
 to himself, as he drew his short and tattered tunic 
 closer together. " Even if it were warmer, and if, in- 
 stead of this threadbare rag, I had a sack of feathers 
 to wrap myself in, still I should feel a cold shiver if the 
 spirits of hell that wander about here were to meet me 
 again. Now I have actually seen one with my own 
 eyes. Demons in women's form rush up the mountain 
 out of the oasis to tempt and torture us in our sleep. 
 What could it have been that the goblin in a white 
 robe and with flowing hair held in its arms ? Very 
 likely the stone with which the incubus loads our breast 
 when he torments us. The other one seemed to fly, 
 but I did not see its wings. That side-building must 
 be where the Gaul lives with his ungodly wife, who has 
 ensnared my poor Hermas. I wonder whether she is 
 really so beautiful! But what can a youth who has 
 grown up among rocks and caves know of the charms 
 of women. He would, of course, think the first who 
 looked kindly at him the most enchanting of her sex. 
 Besides she is fair, and therefore a rare bird among the 
 sunburnt bipeds of the desert. The centurion surely 
 cannot have found the sheepskin or all would not be 
 so still here; once since I have been here an ass has 
 brayed, once a camel has groaned, and now already 
 the first cock is crowing ; but not a sound have I heard 
 from human lips, not even a snore from the stout sen- 
 ator or his buxom wife Dorothea, and it would be 
 strange indeed if they did not both snore." 
 
 He rose, went up to the window of Phcebicius' 
 
144 HOMO SUM. 
 
 dwelling, and listened at the half open shutters, but all 
 was still. 
 
 An hour ago Miriam had been listening under 
 Sirona's room; after betraying her to Phoebicius she 
 had followed him at a distance, and had slipped back 
 into the court-yard through the stables; she felt that 
 she must learn what was happening within, and what 
 fate had befallen Hennas and Sirona at the hands of 
 the infuriated Gaul. She was prepared for anything, 
 and the thought that the centurion might have killed 
 them both with the sword filled her with bitter-sweet 
 satisfaction. Then, seeing^.the light through the crack 
 between the partly open wooden shutters, she softly 
 pushed them farther apart, and, resting her bare feet 
 against the wall, she raised herself to look in. 
 
 She saw Sirona sitting up upon her couch, and oppo- 
 site to her the Gaul with pale distorted features ; at his 
 feet lay the sheepskin ; in his right hand he held the 
 lamp, and its light fell on the paved floor in front of the 
 bed, and was reflected in a large dark red pool. 
 
 " That is blood," thought she, and she shuddered 
 and closed her eyes. 
 
 When she reopened them she saw Sirona's face with 
 crimson cheeks, turned towards her husband; she was 
 unhurt — but Hermas? 
 
 "That is his blood!" she thought with anguish, and 
 a voice seemed to scream in her very heart, " I, his mur- 
 deress, have shed it." 
 
 Her hands lost their hold of the shutters, her feet 
 touched the pavement of the yard, and, driven by her 
 bitter anguish of soul, she fled out by the way she had 
 come — out into the open and up to the mountain. She 
 felt that rather would she defy the prowling panthers, 
 
HOMO SUM. 
 
 145 
 
 the night-chill, hunger and thirst, than appear again be- 
 fore Dame Dorothea, the senator, and Marthana, with 
 this guilt on her soul; and the flying Miriam was one 
 of the goblin forms that had terrified Paul us. 
 
 The patient anchorite sat down again on the stone 
 seat. " The frost is really cruel," thought he, " and a 
 very good thing is such a woolly sheepskin; but the 
 Saviour endured far other sufferings than these, and for 
 what did I quit the world but to imitate Him, and to 
 endure to the end here that I may win the joys of the 
 other world. There, where angels soar, man will need 
 no wretched ram's fell, an^this time certainly selfish- 
 ness has been far from me, for I really and truly suffer 
 for another — I am freezing for Hermas, and to spare 
 the old man pain. I would it were even colder! Nay, 
 I will never, absolutely never again lay a sheepskin over 
 my shoulders." 
 
 Paulus nodded his head as if to signify assent to 
 his own resolve; but presently he looked graver, for 
 again it seemed to him that he was walking in a wrong 
 path. 
 
 "Aye! Man achieves a handful of good, and forth- 
 with his heart swells with a camel-load of pride. What 
 though my teeth are chattering, I am none the less a 
 most miserable creature. How it tickled my vanity, in 
 spite of all my meditations and scruples, when they 
 came from Raithu and offered me the office of elder; I 
 felt more triumphant the first time I won with the quad- 
 riga, but I was scarcely more puffed up with pride then, 
 than I was yesterday. How many who think to follow 
 the Lord strive only to be exalted as He is; they keep 
 well out of the way of His abasement. Thou, O Thou 
 Most High, art my witness that I earnestly seek it, but 
 
146 HOMO SUM. 
 
 so soon as the thorns tear my flesh the drops of blood 
 turn to roses, and if I put them aside, others come and 
 still fling garlands in my way. I verily believe that it 
 is as hard here on earth to find pain without pleasure, 
 as pleasure without pain." 
 
 While thus he meditated his teeth chattered with 
 cold, but suddenly his reflections were interrupted, 
 for the dogs set up a loud barking. Phcebicius was 
 knocking at the senator's door. 
 
 Paulus rose at once, and approached the gate-way. 
 He could hear every word that was spoken in the 
 court-yard; the deep voice was the senator's, the high 
 sharp tones must be the centurion's. 
 
 Phcebicius was demanding his wife back from Petrus, 
 as she had hidden in his house, while Petrus positively 
 declared that Sirona had not crossed his threshold since 
 the morning of the previous day. 
 
 In spite of the vehement and indignant tones in 
 which his lodger spoke, the senator remained perfectly 
 calm, and presently went away to ask his wife whether 
 she by chance, while he was asleep, had opened the 
 house to the missing woman. Paulus heard the sol- 
 dier's steps as he paced up and down the court-yard, but 
 they soon ceased, for Dame Dorothea appeared at the 
 door with her husband, and on her part emphatically 
 declared that she knew nothing of Sirona. 
 
 "Your son Polykarp then," interrupted Phcebicius, 
 "will be better informed of her whereabouts." 
 
 "My son has been since yesterday at Raithu on 
 business," said Petrus resolutely but evasively; "we ex- 
 pect him home to-day only." 
 
 " It would seem that he has been quick, and has re- 
 turned much sooner," retorted Phcebicius. " Our prep- 
 
HOMO SUM. 147 
 
 arations for sacrificing on the mountain were no secret, 
 and the absence of the master of the house is the 
 opportunity for thieves to break in — above all, for 
 lovers who throw roses into their ladies' windows. You 
 Christians boast that you regard the marriage tie as 
 sacred, but it seems to me that you apply the rule only 
 to your fellow-believers. Your sons may make free to 
 take their pleasure among the wives of the heathen; it 
 only remains to be proved whether the heathen hus- 
 bands will be trifled with or not. So far as I am con- 
 cerned, I am inclined for anything rather than jesting. 
 I would have you to understand that I will never let 
 Caesar's uniform, which I wear, be stained by disgrace, 
 and that I am minded to search your house, and if I 
 find my undutiful wife and your son within its walls, I 
 will carry them and you before the judge, and sue for 
 my rights." 
 
 "You will seek in vain," replied Petrus, command- 
 ing himself with difficulty. " My word is yea or nay, 
 and I repeat once more no, we harbor neither her nor 
 him. As for Dorothea and myself — neither of us is in- 
 clined to interfere in your concerns, but neither will we 
 permit another — be he whom he may — to interfere in 
 ours. This threshold shall never be crossed by any but 
 those to whom I grant permission, or by the emperor's 
 judge, to whom I must yield. You, I forbid to enter. 
 Sirona is not here, and you would do better to seek her 
 elsewhere than to fritter away your time here." 
 
 "I do not require your advice!" cried the centurion 
 wrathfully. 
 
 "And I," retorted Petrus, "do not feel myself called 
 upon to arrange your matrimonial difficulties. Besides 
 you can get back Sirona without our help, for it is al- 
 
I48 HOMO SUM. 
 
 ways more difficult to keep a wife safe in the house, than 
 to fetch her back when she has run away." 
 
 "You shall learn whom you have to deal with'" 
 threatened the centurion, and he threw a glance round 
 at the slaves, who had collected in the court, and who 
 had been joined by the senator's eldest son. "I shall 
 call my people together at once, and if you have the 
 seducer among you we will intercept his escape." 
 
 " Only wait an hour," said Dorothea, now taking up 
 the word, while she gently touched her husband's hand, 
 for his self-control was almost exhausted, "and you will 
 see Polykarp ride home on his father's horse. Is it 
 only from the roses that my son threw into your wife's 
 window, that you suppose him to be her seducer — she 
 plays so kindly with all his brothers and sisters — or are 
 there other reasons, which move you to insult and hurt 
 us with so heavy an accusation ? " 
 
 Often when wrathful men threaten to meet with an 
 explosion, like black thunder-clouds, a word from the 
 mouth of a sensible woman gives them pause, and re- 
 strains them like a breath of soft wind. 
 
 Phcebicius had no mind to listen to any speech from 
 Polykarp's mother, but her question suggested to him 
 for the first time a rapid retrospect of all that had oc- 
 curred, and he could not conceal from himself that his 
 suspicions rested on weak grounds. And at the same 
 time he now said to himself, that if indeed Sirona had 
 fled into the desert instead of to the senator's house he 
 was wasting time, and letting the start, which she had 
 already gained, increase in a fatal degree. 
 
 But few seconds were needed for these reflections, 
 and as he was accustomed when need arose to control 
 himself, he said: 
 
HOMO SUM. 149 
 
 "We must see — some means must be found — " and 
 then without any greeting to his host, he slowly re- 
 turned to his own house. But he had not reached the 
 door, when he heard hoofs on the road, and Petrus 
 called after him, " Grant us a few minutes longer, for 
 here comes Polykarp, and he can justify himself to you 
 in his own person." 
 
 The centurion paused, the senator signed to old 
 Jethro to open the gate; a man was heard to spring 
 from his saddle, but it was an Amalekite — and not 
 Polykarp — who came into the court. 
 
 "What news do you bring?" asked the senator, 
 turning half to the messenger and half to the centurion. 
 
 " My lord Polykarp, your son," replied the Ama- 
 lekite— a dark brown man of ripe years with supple 
 limbs, and a sharp tongue — " sends his greetings to you 
 and to the mistress, and would have you to know that 
 before mid-day he will arrive at home with eight work- 
 men, whom he has engaged in Ra'ithu. Dame Doro- 
 thea must be good enough to make ready for them all 
 and to prepare a meal." 
 
 " When did you part from my son ? " inquired 
 Petrus. 
 
 " Two hours before sundown." 
 
 Petrus heaved a sigh of relief, for he had not till 
 now been perfectly convinced of his son's innocence; 
 but, far from triumphing or making Phoebicius feel the 
 injustice he had done him, he said kindly — for he felt 
 some sympathy with the Gaul in his misfortune — 
 
 " I wish the messenger could also give some news 
 of your wife's retreat; she found it hard to accommodate 
 herself to the dull life here in the oasis, perhaps she has 
 only disappeared in order to seek a town which may 
 
150 HOMO SUM. 
 
 offer more variety to such a beautiful young creature 
 than this quiet spot in the desert." 
 
 Phcebicius waved his hand with a negative move- 
 ment, implying that he knew better, and said, " I will 
 show you what your nice night-bird left in my nest. 
 It may be that you can tell me to whom it belongs." 
 
 Just as he hastily stepped across the court-yard to 
 his own dwelling Paulus entered by the now open gate; 
 he greeted the senator and his family, and offered Petrus 
 the key of the church. 
 
 The sun meanwhile had risen, and the Alexandrian 
 blushed to show himself in Dame Dorothea's presence 
 in his short and ragged under-garment, which was quite 
 inefficient to cover the still athletic mould of his limbs. 
 Petrus had heard nothing but good of Paulus, and yet 
 he measured him now with no friendly eye, for all that 
 wore the aspect of extravagance repelled his temperate 
 and methodical nature. Paulus was made conscious 
 of what was passing in the senator's mind when, with- 
 out vouchsafing a single word, he took the key from his 
 hand. It was not a matter of indifference to him, that 
 this man should think ill of him, and he said, with some 
 embarrassment — 
 
 "We do not usually go among people without a 
 sheepskin, but I have lost mine." 
 
 Hardly had he uttered the words, when Phcebicius 
 came back with Hermas' sheepskin in his hand, and 
 cried out to Petrus : 
 
 " This I found on my return home, in our sleeping- 
 room." 
 
 " And when have you ever seen Polykarp in such a 
 mantle ? " asked Dorothea. 
 
 "When the gods visit the daughters of men," re- 
 
HOMO SUM. 151 
 
 plied the centurion, "they have always made choice of 
 strange disguises. Why should not a perfumed Alex- 
 andrian gentleman transform himself for once into one 
 of those rough fools on the mountain ? However, even 
 old Homer sometimes nodded — and I confess that I 
 was in error with regard to your son. I meant no of- 
 fence, senator ! You have lived here longer than I ; 
 who can have made me a present of this skin, which 
 still seems to be pretty new — horns and all." 
 
 Petrus examined and felt the skin, "This is an 
 anchorite's garment," he said; "the penitents on the 
 mountain are all accustomed to wear such." 
 
 " It is one of those rascals then that has found his 
 way into my house ! " exclaimed the centurion. " I 
 bear Caesar's commission, and I am to exterminate all 
 vagabonds that trouble the dwellers in the oasis, or 
 travellers in the desert. Thus run the orders which I 
 brought with me from Rome. I will drive the low fel- 
 lows together like deer for hunting, for they are all 
 rogues and villains, and I shall know how to torture 
 them until I find the right one." 
 
 " The emperor will ill-requite you for that," replied 
 Petrus. "They are pious Christians, and you know 
 that Constantine himself — " 
 
 "Constantine!" exclaimed the centurion scornfully. 
 " Perhaps he will let himself be baptized, for water can 
 hurt no one, and he cannot, like the great Diocletian, 
 exterminate the masses who run after the crucified 
 miracle-monger, without depopulating the country. 
 Look at these coins ; here is the image of Caesar, and 
 what is this on the other side ? Is this your Nazarene, 
 or is it the old god, the immortal and invincible sun ? 
 And is that man one of your creed, who in Constanti- 
 
152 HOMO SUM. 
 
 nople adores Tyche and the Dioscuri Castor and 
 Pollux ? The water he is baptized with to-day he will 
 wipe away to-morrow, and the old gods will be his 
 defenders, if in more peaceful times he maintains them 
 against your superstitions." 
 
 "But it will be a good while till then," said Petrus 
 coolly. "For the present, at least, Constantine is the 
 protector of the Christians. I advise you to put your 
 affair into the hands of Bishop Agapitus." 
 
 "That he may serve me up a dish of your doctrine, 
 which is bad even for women," said the centurion 
 laughing; "and that I may kiss my enemies' feet? 
 They are a vile rabble up there, I repeat it, and they 
 shall be treated as such till I have found my man. I 
 shall begin the hunt this very day." 
 
 "And this very day you may end it, for the sheep- 
 skin is mine." 
 
 It was Paulus who spoke these words in a loud and 
 decided tone; all eyes were at once turned on him and 
 on the centurion. 
 
 Petrus and the slaves had frequently seen the an- 
 chorite, but never without a sheepskin similar to that 
 which Phcebicius held in his hand. The anchorite's 
 self-accusation must have appeared incredible, and 
 indeed scarcely . possible, to all who knew Paulus and 
 Sirona; and nevertheless no one, not even the senator, 
 doubted it for an instant. Dame Dorothea only shook 
 her head incredulously, and though she could find no 
 explanation for the occurrence, she still could not but 
 say to herself, that this man did not look like a lover, 
 and that Sirona would hardly have forgotten her duty 
 for his sake. She could not indeed bring herself to 
 believe in Sirona's guilt at all, for she was heartily well- 
 
HOMO SUM. 
 
 *53 
 
 disposed towards her; besides — though it, no doubt, 
 was not right — her motherly vanity inclined her to 
 believe that if the handsome young woman had indeed 
 sinned, she would have preferred her fine tall Poly- 
 karp — whose roses and flaming glances she blamed in 
 all sincerity — to this shaggy, wild-looking graybeard. 
 
 Quite otherwise thought the centurion. He was 
 quite ready to believe in the anchorite's confession, for 
 the more unworthy the man for whom Sirona had 
 broken faith, the greater seemed her guilt, and the 
 more unpardonable her levity; and to his man's vanity 
 it seemed to him easier — particularly in the presence of 
 such witnesses as Petrus and Dorothea — to bear the 
 fact that his wife should have sought variety and plea- 
 sure at any cost, even at that of devoting herself to a 
 ragged beggar, than that she should have given her 
 affections to a younger, handsomer, and worthier man 
 than himself. He had sinned much against her, but 
 all that lay like feathers on his side of the scales, while 
 that which she had done weighed down hers like a load 
 of lead. He began to feel like a man who, in wading 
 through a bog, has gained firm ground with one foot, 
 and all these feelings gave him energy to walk up to 
 the anchorite with a self-control, of which he was not 
 generally master, excepting when on duty at the head 
 of his soldiers. 
 
 He approached the Alexandrian with an assumption 
 of dignity and a demeanor which testified to his for- 
 merly having taken part in the representations of trage- 
 dies in the theatres of great cities. Paulus, on his part, 
 did not retreat by a single step, but looked at him with 
 a smile that alarmed Petrus and the rest of the by- 
 standers. The law put the anchorite absolutely into 
 
154 HOMO SUM. 
 
 the power of the outraged husband, but Phoebicius did 
 not seem disposed to avail himself of his rights, and 
 nothing but contempt and loathing were perceptible 
 in his tone, as he said: 
 
 "A man who takes hold of a mangy dog in order 
 to punish him, only dirties his hand. The woman who 
 betrayed me for your sake, and you — you dirty beg- 
 gar — are worthy of each other. I could crush you like 
 a fly that can be destroyed by a blow of my hand if I 
 chose, but my sword is Caesar's, and shall never be 
 soiled by such foul blood as yours; however, the beast 
 shall not have cast off his skin for nothing, it is thick, 
 and so you have only spared me the trouble of tearing 
 it off you before giving you your due. You shall find 
 no lack of blows. Confess where your sweetheart has 
 fled to and they shall be few, but if you are slow to 
 answer they will be many. Lend me that thing there, 
 fellow!" 
 
 With 'these words he took a whip of hippopotamus 
 hide out of a camel-driver's hand, went close up to the 
 Alexandrian, and asked: "Where is Sirona?" 
 
 " Nay, you may beat me," said Paulus. " However 
 hard your whip may fall on me, it cannot be heavy 
 enough for my sins; but as to where your wife is 
 hiding, that I really cannot tell you — not even if you 
 were to tear my limbs with pincers instead of stroking 
 me with that wretched thing." 
 
 There was something so genuinely honest in Paulus' 
 voice and tone, that the centurion was inclined to 
 believe him; but it was not his way to let a threatened 
 punishment fail of execution, and this strange beggar 
 should learn by experience that when his hand in- 
 tended to hit hard, it was far from "stroking." And 
 
HOMO SUM. 155 
 
 Paulus did experience it, without uttering a cry, and 
 without stirring from the spot where he stood. 
 
 When at last Phcebicius dropped his weary arm 
 and breathlessly repeated his question, the ill-used man 
 replied, " I told you before I do not know, and there- 
 fore I cannot reveal it." 
 
 Up to this moment Petrus, though he had felt 
 strongly impelled to rush to the rescue of his severely 
 handled fellow-believer, had nevertheless allowed the 
 injured husband to have his way, for he seemed dis- 
 posed to act with unusual mildness, and the Alexan- 
 drian to be worthy of all punishment; but at this point 
 Dorothea's request would not have been needed to 
 prompt him to interfere. 
 
 He went up to the centurion, and said to him in an 
 undertone, "You have given the evil-doer his due, and 
 if you desire that he should undergo a severer punish- 
 ment than you can inflict, carry the matter — I say once 
 more — before the bishop. You will gain nothing more 
 here. Take my word for it, I know the man and his 
 fellow-men; he actually knows nothing of where your 
 wife is hiding, and you are only wasting the time and 
 strength which you would do better to save, in order to 
 search for Sirona. I fancy she will have tried to reach 
 the sea, and to get to Egypt or possibly to Alexandria; 
 and there — you know what the Greek city is — she will 
 fall into utter ruin." 
 
 " And so," laughed the Gaul, " find what she seeks — 
 variety, and every kind of pleasure. For a young 
 thing like that, who loves amusement, there is no 
 pleasant occupation but vice. But I will spoil her 
 game; you are right, it is not well to give her too long 
 a start. If she has found the road to the sea, she may 
 
156 HOMO SUM. 
 
 already — Hey, here Talib!" He beckoned to Poly- 
 karp's Amalekite messenger. "You have just come 
 from Ra'ithu; did you meet a flying woman on the 
 way, with yellow hair and a white face ?" 
 
 The Amalekite, a free man with sharp eyes, who 
 was highly esteemed in the senator's house, and even 
 by Phcebicius himself, as a trustworthy and steady man, 
 had expected this question, and eagerly replied : 
 
 "At two stadia beyond el Heswe I met a large 
 caravan from Petra, which rested yesterday in the oasis 
 here; a woman, such as you describe, was running 
 with it. When I heard what had happened here I 
 wanted to speak, but who listens to a cricket while it 
 thunders ?" 
 
 "Had she a lame greyhound with her?" asked 
 Phcebicius, full of expectation. 
 
 " She carried something in her arms," answered the 
 Amalekite. " In the moonlight I took it for a baby. 
 My brother, who was escorting the caravan, told me 
 the lady was no doubt running away, for she had paid 
 the charge for the escort not in ready money, but with 
 a gold signet-ring." 
 
 The Gaul remembered a certain gold ring with a 
 finely carved onyx, which long years ago he had taken 
 from Glycera's finger, for she had another one like it, 
 and which he had given to Sirona on the day of their 
 marriage. 
 
 "It is strange!" thought he, "what we give to 
 women to bind them to us they use as weapons to turn 
 against us, be it to please some other man, or to smooth 
 the path by which they escape from us. It was with a 
 bracelet of Glycera's that I paid the captain of the ship 
 that brought us to Alexandria; but the soft-hearted fool, 
 
HOMO SUM. 157 
 
 whose dove flew after me, and I are men of a different 
 stamp; I will follow my flown bird, and catch it again." 
 
 He spoke the last words aloud, and then desired one 
 of the senator's slaves to give his mule a good feed and 
 drink, for his own groom, and the superior decurion who 
 during his absence must take his place, were also wor- 
 shippers of Mithras, and had not yet returned from the 
 mountain. 
 
 Phoebicius did not doubt that the woman who had 
 joined the caravan — which he himself had seen yester- 
 day — was his fugitive wife, and he knew that his delay 
 might have reduced his earnest wish to overtake her and 
 punish her to the remotest probability; but he was a 
 Roman soldier, and would rather have laid violent hands 
 on himself than have left his post without a deputy. 
 When at last his fellow- worshippers came from their 
 sacrifice and worship of the rising sun, his preparations 
 for his long journey were completed. 
 
 Phoebicius carefully impressed on the decurion all 
 he had to do during his absence, and how he was to 
 conduct himself; then he delivered the key of his house 
 into Petrus' keeping as well as the black slave- woman, 
 who wept loudly and passionately over the flight of her 
 mistress; he requested the senator to bring the ancho- 
 rite's misdeed to the knowledge of the bishop, and then, 
 guided by the Amalekite Talib, who rode before him on 
 his dromedary, he trotted hastily away in pursuit of the 
 caravan, so as to reach the sea, if possible, before its 
 embarkation. 
 
 As the hoofs of the mule sounded fainter and fainter 
 in the distance, Paulus also quitted the senator's court- 
 yard; Dorothea pointed after him as he walked towards 
 the mountain. " In truth, husband," said she, " this has 
 
T58 HOMO SUM. 
 
 been a strange morning; everything that has occurred 
 looks as clear as day, and yet I cannot understand it 
 all. My heart aches when I think what may happen 
 to the wretched Sirona if her enraged husband overtakes 
 her. It seems to me that there are two sorts of mar- 
 riage; one was instituted by the most loving of the 
 angels, nay, by the All- merciful Himself, but the other — 
 it is not to be thought of! How can those two live 
 together for the future? And that under our roof! 
 Their closed house looks to me as though ruined and 
 burnt-out, and we have already seen the nettles spring 
 up which grow everywhere among the ruins of human 
 dwellings." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The path of every star is fixed and limited, every 
 plant bears flowers and fruit which in form and color 
 exactly resemble their kind, and in all the fundamental 
 characteristics of their qualities and dispositions, of their 
 instinctive bent and external impulse, all animals of the 
 same species resemble each other; thus, the hunter who 
 knows the red-deer in his father's forest, may know in 
 every forest on earth how the stag will behave in any 
 given case. The better a genus is fitted for variability 
 in the conformation of its individuals, the higher is the 
 rank it is entitled to hold in the graduated series of 
 creatures capable of development; and it is precisely 
 that wonderful many-sidedness of his inner life, and of 
 its outward manifestation, which assigns to man his 
 superiority over all other animated beings. 
 
HOMO SUM. 159 
 
 Some few of our qualities and activities can be fitly 
 symbolized in allegorical fashion by animals; thus, 
 courage finds an emblem in the lion, gentleness in the 
 dove, but the perfect human form has satisfied a thou- 
 sand generations, and will satisfy a thousand more, 
 when we desire to reduce the divinity to a sensible 
 image, for, in truth, our heart is as surely capable of 
 comprehending " God in us," — that is in our feelings — 
 as our intellect is capable of comprehending His out- 
 ward manifestation 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 foreign to our own soul, 
 which, in like manner, is infinite and immeasurable, for 
 it can extend its investigating feelers to the very utmost 
 boundary of space and time. Hence, the roads which 
 are open to the soul, are numberless as those of the 
 divinity. Often they seem strange, but the initiated 
 very well know that these roads are in accordance to 
 fixed laws, and that even the most exceptional emotions 
 of the soul may be traced back to causes which were 
 capable of giving rise to them and to no others. 
 
 Blows hurt, disgrace is a burden, and unjust punish- 
 ment embitters the heart, but Paulus' soul had sought 
 and found a way to which these simple propositions did 
 not apply. 
 
 He had been ill-used and contemned, and, though 
 perfectly innocent, ere he left the oasis he was con- 
 demned to the severest penance. As soon as the bishop 
 had heard from Petrus of all that had happened in his 
 house, he had sent for Paulus, and as he could answer 
 nothing to the accusation, he had expelled him from his 
 flock — to which the anchorites belonged — forbidden 
 
l6o HOMO SUM. 
 
 him to visit the church on week-days, and declared that 
 this his sentence should be publicly proclaimed before 
 the assembled congregation of the believers. 
 
 And how did this affect Paulus as he climbed the 
 mountain, lonely and proscribed? 
 
 A fisherman from the little seaport of Pharan, who 
 met him half-way and exchanged a greeting with him, 
 thought to himself as he looked after him, "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 he went, of his son's expression of face 
 when his wife bore him his first little one. 
 
 Near the watch-tower at the edge of the defile, a 
 party of anchorites were piling some stones together. 
 They had already heard of the bishop's sentence on 
 Paulus, the sinner, and they gave him no greeting. He 
 observed it and was silent, but when they could no lon- 
 ger see him he laughed to himself and muttered, while 
 he rubbed a weal that the centurion's whip had left up- 
 on his back, " If they think that a Gaul's cudgel has a 
 pleasant flavor they are mistaken, however I would not 
 exchange it for a skin of Anthyllan wine; and if they 
 could only know that at least one of the stripes which 
 torments me is due to each one of themselves, they would 
 be surprised! But away with pride! How they spat 
 on Thee, Jesus my Lord, and who am I, and how mildly 
 have they dealt with me, when I for once have taken on 
 my back another's stripes. Not a drop of blood was 
 drawn! I wish the old man had hit harder!" 
 
 He walked cheerfully forward, and his mind recurred 
 to the centurion's speech that "he could if he list, tread 
 him down like a worm," and he laughed again softly, 
 for he was quite aware that he was ten times as strong 
 
HOMO SUM. i6r 
 
 as Phoebicius, and formerly he had overthrown the brag- 
 gart Arkesilaos of Kyrene and his cousin, the tall Xeno- 
 phanes, both at once in the sand of the Palaestra. Then 
 he thought of Hermas, of his sweet dead mother, and 
 of his father, and — which was the most comforting 
 thought 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 years he had never looked at a flower or, 
 at any rate, had never wished to possess one; to-day he 
 stooped down over the blossom that graced the rock, 
 meaning to pluck it. But he did not carry out his in- 
 tention, for before he had laid his hand upon it, he 
 reflected : 
 
 "To whom could I offer it? And perhaps the flow- 
 ers themselves rejoice in the light, and in the silent life 
 that is in their roots. How tightly it clings to the rock. 
 Farther away from the road flowers of even greater 
 beauty blow, seen by no mortal eye ; they deck them- 
 selves in beauty for no one but for their Creator, and 
 because they rejoice in themselves. I too will with- 
 draw from the highways of mankind ; let them accuse 
 me ! So long as I live at peace with myself and my 
 God I ask nothing of any one. He that abases him- 
 self — aye, he that abases himself! — My hour too shall 
 come, and above and beyond this life I shall see them 
 all once more; Petrus and Dorothea, Agapitus and the 
 brethren who now refuse to receive me, and then, when 
 my Saviour himself beckons me to Him, they will see 
 me 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 to himself the joys of Paradise, to 
 
1 62 HOMO SUM. 
 
 which this day he had earned an assured claim. He , 
 never took longer and swifter steps than when his mind 
 was occupied with such meditations, and when he 
 reached Stephanus' cave he thought the way from the 
 oasis to the heights had been shorter than usual. 
 
 He found the sick man in great anxiety, for he had 
 waited until now for his son in vain, and feared that 
 Hermas had met with some accident — or had abandon- 
 ed him, and fled out into the world. Paulus soothed 
 him with gentle words, and told him of the errand on 
 which he had sent the lad to the farther coast of the sea. 
 
 We are never better disposed to be satisfied with 
 even bad news than when we have expected it to be 
 much worse; so Stephanus listened to his friend's ex- 
 planation quite calmly, and with signs of approval. 
 He could no longer conceal from himself that Hermas 
 was not ripe for the life of an anchorite, and since he 
 had learned that his unhappy wife — whom he had so 
 long given up for lost — had died a Christian, he found 
 that he could reconcile his thoughts to relinquishing the 
 boy to the world. He had devoted himself and his 
 son to a life of penance, hoping and striving that so 
 Glycera's soul might be snatched from damnation, and 
 now he knew that she herself had earned her title to 
 Heaven. 
 
 " When will he come home again ? " he asked Pau- 
 lus. 
 
 "In five or six days," was the answer. "Ali, the 
 fisherman — out of whose foot I took a thorn some time 
 since — informed me secretly, as I was going to church 
 yesterday, that the Blemmyes are gathering behind the 
 sulphur-mountains; when they have withdrawn, it will 
 be high time to send Hermas to Alexandria. My broth- 
 
HOMO SUM. 163 
 
 er is still alive, and for my sake he will receive him as 
 a blood-relation, for he too has been baptized." 
 
 "He may attend the school of catechumens in the 
 metropolis, and if he — if he — " 
 
 " That we shall see," interrupted Paulus. " For the 
 present it comes to this, we must let him go from hence, 
 and leave him to seek out his own way. You fancy 
 that there may be in heaven a place of glory for such 
 as have never been overcome, and you would fain have 
 seen Hermas among them. It reminds me of the phy- 
 sician of Corinth, who boasted that he was cleverer 
 than any of his colleagues, for that not one of his 
 patients had ever died. And the man was right, for 
 neither man nor beast had ever trusted to his healing 
 arts. Let Hermas try his young strength, and even if 
 he be no priest, but a valiant warrior like his forefathers, 
 even so he may honestly serve God. But it will be a 
 long time before all this comes to pass. So long as he 
 is away I will attend on you — you still have some water 
 in your jar?" 
 
 " It has twice been filled for me," said the old man. 
 "The brown shepherdess, who so often waters her goats 
 at our spring, came to me the first thing in the morn- 
 ing and again about two hours ago; she asked after 
 Hermas, and then offered of her own accord to fetch 
 water for me so long as he was away. She is as timid as 
 a bird, and flew off as soon as she had set down the 
 
 jug-" 
 
 " She belongs to Petrus and cannot leave her goats 
 for long," said Paulus. " Now I will go and find you 
 some herbs for a relish ; there will be no more wine in 
 the first place. Look me in the face — for how great a 
 sinner now do you take me ? Think the very worst of 
 
164 HOMO SUM. 
 
 me, and yet perhaps you' will hear worse said of me. 
 But here come two men. Stay! one is Hilarion, one 
 of the bishop's acolytes, and the other is Pachomius 
 the Memphite, who lately came to the mountain. They 
 are coming up here, and the Egyptian is carrying a 
 small jar. I would it might hold some more wine to 
 keep up your strength." 
 
 The two friends had not long to remain in ignorance 
 of their visitor's purpose. So soon as they reached 
 Stephanus' cave, both turned their backs on Paulus 
 with conspicuously marked intention; nay the acolyte 
 signed his brow with the cross, as if he thought it nec- 
 essary to protect himself against evil influences. 
 
 The Alexandrian understood; he drew back and 
 was silent, while Hilarion explained to the sick man 
 that Paulus was guilty of grave sins, and that, until he 
 had done full penance, he must remain excluded as a 
 rotten sheep from the bishop's flock, as well as inter- 
 dicted from waiting on a pious Christian. 
 
 " We know from Petrus," the speaker went on, 
 "that your son, father, has been sent across the sea, 
 and as you still need waiting on, Agapitus sends you by 
 me his blessing and this strengthening wine ; this youth 
 too will stay by you, and provide you with all neces- 
 saries until Hermas comes home." 
 
 With these words he gave the wine-jar to the old 
 man, who looked in astonishment from him to Paulus, 
 who felt indeed cut to the heart when the bishop's 
 messenger turned to him for an instant, and with the 
 cry, " Get thee out from among us!" disappeared. 
 
 How many kindly ties, how many services willingly 
 rendered and affectionately accepted were swept away 
 by these words — but Paulus obeyed at once. He went 
 
HOMO SUM. 165 
 
 up to his sick friend, their eyes met and each could see 
 that the eyes of the other were dimmed with tears. 
 
 " Paulus ! " cried the old man, stretching out both 
 his hands to his departing friend, whom he felt he could 
 forgive whatever his guilt ; but the Alexandrian did not 
 take them, but turned away, and, without looking back, 
 hastily went up the mountain to a pathless spot, and 
 then on towards the valley — onwards and still onwards, 
 till he was brought to a pause by the steep declivity of 
 the hollow way which led southwards from the moun- 
 tains into the oasis. 
 
 The sun stood high and it was burning hot. Stream- 
 ing with sweat and panting for breath he leaned against 
 the glowing porphyry wall behind him, 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 suffer- 
 ing which he had taken upon himself, the grief of isola- 
 tion weighed upon his heart, and the lamentable cry of 
 the old man had left a warning echo in his soul, and 
 roused doubts of the righteousness of a deed, by which 
 even the best and purest had beeil deceived, and led 
 into injustice towards him. His heart was breaking with 
 anguish and grief, but when at last he returned to the 
 consciousness of his sufferings physical and mental, he 
 began to recover his courage, and even smiled as he 
 murmured to himself: 
 
 " It is well, it is well — the more I suffer the more 
 surely shall I find grace. And besides, if the old 
 man had seen Hermas go through what I have experi- 
 enced it would undoubtedly have killed him. Cer- 
 tainly I wish it could have been done without — without 
 — aye, it is even so — without deceit ; even when I was 
 a heathen I was truthful and held a lie, whether in my- 
 
1 66 HOMO SUM. 
 
 self or m another, in as deep horror as father Abraham 
 held murder, and yet when the Lord required him, he 
 led his son Isaac to the slaughter. 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 will surely be forgiven me, if it is not reck- 
 oned against them that they shed blood." 
 
 These and such reflections restored Paulus to equa- 
 nimity and to satisfaction with his conduct, and he 
 began to consider, whether he should return to his old 
 cave and the neighborhood of Stephanus, or seek for a 
 new abode. He decided on the latter course; but first 
 he must find fresh water and some sort of nourishment; 
 for his mouth and tongue were quite parched. 
 
 Lower down in the valley sprang a brooklet of 
 which he knew, and hard by it grew various herbs and 
 roots, with which he had often allayed his hunger. He 
 followed the declivity to its base, then turning to the 
 left, he crossed a small table land, which was easily 
 accessible from the gorge, but which on the side of the 
 oasis formed a perpendicular cliff many fathoms deep. 
 Between it and the main mass of the mountain rose 
 numerous single peaks, like a camp of granite tents, or 
 a wildly tossing sea 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 with patience, he returned to the plateau y 
 and from the edge of the precipice he gazed down into 
 the desert gorge that stretched away far below his feet r 
 and in whose deepest and remotest hollow the palm- 
 groves and tamarisk-thickets of the oasis showed as a 
 sharply defined mass of green, like a luxuriant wreath 
 
  
 
 HOMO SUM. 167 
 
 flung upon a bier. The whitewashed roofs of the little 
 town of Pharan shone brightly among the branches and 
 clumps of verdure, and above them all rose the new 
 church, which he was now forbidden to enter. For a 
 moment the thought was keenly painful that he was 
 excluded from the devotions of the community, from 
 the Lord's supper and from congregational prayer, but 
 then he asked, was not every block of stone on the 
 mountain an altar — was not the blue sky above a thou- 
 sand times wider, and more splendid than the mightiest 
 dome raised by the hand of man, not even excepting 
 the vaulted roof of the Serapeum at Alexandria, and he 
 remembered the "Amen" of the stones, that had rung 
 out after the preaching of the blind man. By this time 
 he had quite recovered himself, and he went towards 
 the cliff in order to find a cavern that he knew of, and 
 that was empty — for its gray-headed inhabitant had 
 died some weeks since. "Verily," thought he, "it 
 seems to me 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 be ashamed." 
 
 Thus meditating, he pressed on through a narrow 
 space, which divided two huge masses of porphyry, but 
 suddenly he stood still, for he heard the barking of a 
 dog in his immediate neighborhood, and a few minutes 
 after a greyhound rushed towards him — now indig- 
 nantly flying at him, and now timidly retreating — while 
 it carefully held up one leg, which was wrapped in a 
 many-colored bandage. 
 
 Paulus recollected the enquiry which Phcebicius had 
 addressed to the Amalekite as to a greyhound, and he 
 
l68 HOMO SUM. 
 
 immediately guessed that the Gaul's runaway wife must 
 be not far off. His heart beat more quickly, and 
 although he did not immediately know how he should 
 meet the disloyal wife, he felt himself impelled to go to 
 seek her. Without delay he followed the way by which 
 the dog had come, and soon caught sight of a light 
 garment, which vanished behind the nearest rock, and 
 then behind a farther, and yet a farther one. 
 
 At last he came up with the fleeing woman. She 
 was standing at the very edge of a precipice, that rose 
 high and sheer above the abyss — a strange and fearful 
 sight; her long golden hair had got tangled, and waved 
 over her bosom and shoulders, half plaited, half undone. 
 Only one foot was firm on the ground; the other — with 
 its thin sandal all torn by the sharp stones — was 
 stretched out over the abyss, ready for the next fatal 
 step. At the next instant she might disappear over the 
 cliff, for though with her right hand she held on to a 
 point of rock, Paulus could see that the boulder had no 
 connection with the rock on which she stood, and 
 rocked too and fro. 
 
 She hung over the edge of the chasm like a sleep- 
 walker, or a possessed creature pursued by demons, 
 and at the same time her eyes glistened with such wild 
 madness, and she drew her breath with such feverish 
 rapidity that Paulus, who had come close up to her, 
 involuntarily drew back. He saw that her lips moved, 
 and though he could not understand what she said, 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 into the abyss: if he 
 left her to herself, the stone to which she clung would 
 
HOMO SUM. 169 
 
 get looser and looser, and as soon as it fell she would 
 certainly fall too. He had once heard it said, that 
 sleep-walkers always threw themselves down when they 
 heard their names spoken ; this statement now recurred 
 to his mind, and he forbore from calling out to her. 
 
 Once more the unhappy woman waved him off; 
 his very heart stopped beating, for her movements were 
 wild and vehement, and he could see that the stone 
 which she was holding on by shifted its place. He 
 understood nothing of all the words which she tried to 
 say — for her voice, which only yesterday had been so 
 sweet, to-day was inaudibly hoarse — except the one 
 name " Phcebicius," and he felt no doubt that she clung 
 to the stone over the abyss, so that, like the mountain- 
 goat when it sees itself surprised by the hunter, she 
 might fling herself into the depth below rather than be 
 taken by her pursuer. Paulus saw in her neither her 
 guilt nor her beauty, but only a child of man trembling 
 on the brink of a fearful danger whom he must save 
 from death at any cost; and the thought that he was 
 at any rate not a spy sent in pursuit of her by her hus- 
 band, suggested to him the first words which he found 
 courage to address to the desperate woman. They 
 were simple words enough, but they were spoken in a 
 tone which fully expressed the childlike amiability of 
 his warm heart, and the Alexandrian, who had been 
 brought up in the most approved school of the city of 
 orators, involuntarily uttered his words in the admira- 
 bly rich and soft chest voice, which he so well knew 
 how to use. 
 
 "Be thankful," said he, "poor dear woman — I have 
 found you in a fortunate hour. I am Paulus, Hernias' 
 best friend, and I would willingly serve you in your 
 
170 HOMO SUM. 
 
 sore need. No danger is now threatening you, for 
 Phcebicius is seeking you on a wrong road; you may 
 trust me. Look at me! I do not look as if I could 
 betray a poor erring woman. But you are standing on 
 a spot, where I would rather see my enemy than you; 
 lay your hand confidently in mine — it is no longer 
 white and slender, but it is strong 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 strange confidence in it. Take 
 care! there — your support has rolled over into the 
 abyss! how it crashes and splits. It has reached the 
 bottom, smashed into a thousand pieces, and I am 
 thankful that you preferred to follow me rather than 
 that false support." While Paulus was speaking he had 
 gone up to Sirona, as a girl whose bird has escaped 
 from its cage, and who creeps up to it with timid care 
 in the hope of recapturing it; he offered her his hand, 
 and as soon as he felt hers in his grasp, he had carefully 
 rescued her from her fearful position, and had led her 
 down to a secure footing on the plateau. So long as 
 she followed him unresistingly he led her on towards 
 the mountain — without aim or fixed destination — but 
 away, away from the abyss. 
 
 She paused by a square block of diorite, and Paulus, 
 who had not failed to observe how heavy her steps 
 were, desired her to sit down ; he pushed up a flag of 
 stone, which he propped with smaller ones, so that 
 Sirona might not lack a support for her weary back. 
 When he had accomplished this, Sirona leaned back 
 against the stone, and something of dawning satisfac- 
 tion was audible in the soft sigh, which was the first 
 
HOMO SUM. 171 
 
 sound that had escaped her tightly closed lips since 
 her rescue. Paulus smiled at 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 very softly for "water, a little water." 
 
 Paulus struck his hand against his forehead, and 
 cried eagerly, "Directly — I will bring you a fresh 
 draught. In a few minutes I will be back again." 
 
 Sirona looked after him as he hastened away. Her 
 gaze became more and more staring and glazed, and 
 she felt as if the rock, on which she was sitting, were 
 changing into the ship which had brought her from 
 Massilia to Ostia. Every heaving motion of the vessel, 
 which had made her so giddy as it danced over the 
 shifting waves, she now distinctly felt again, 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 her eyes, felt vaguely and in vain in the air for 
 some holdfast, her head fell powerless on one side, and 
 before her cheek sank upon her shoulder she uttered 
 one feeble cry of distress, for she felt as if all her limbs 
 were dropping from her body, as leaves in autumn 
 fall from the boughs, and she fell back unconscious on 
 the stony couch which Paulus had constructed for her. 
 
 It was the first swoon that Sirona, with her sound 
 physical and mental powers, had ever experienced; but 
 the strongest of her sex would have been overcome by 
 the excitement, the efforts, the privations, and the suf- 
 ferings which had that day befallen the unfortunate 
 fair one. 
 
 At first she had fled without any plan out into the 
 
172 
 
 HOMO SUM. 
 
 night and up the mountain; the moon lighted her on 
 her way, and for fully an hour she continued her up- 
 ward road without any rest. Then she heard the voices 
 of travellers who were coming towards her, and she left 
 the beaten road and tried to get away from them, for 
 she feared that her greyhound, which she still carried 
 on her arm, would betray her by barking, or if they 
 heard 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 what she had to do next. 
 She could look back dreamily on the past, and build 
 castles in the air in a blue-skyed future — this was easy 
 enough; but she did not find it easy to reflect with due 
 deliberation, and to think in earnest. Only one thing 
 was perfectly clear to her: she would rather starve and 
 die of thirst, and shame, and misery — nay, she would 
 rather be the instrument of her own death, than return 
 to her husband. She knew that she must in the first 
 instance expect ill-usage, scorn, and imprisonment in a 
 dark room at the Gaul's hands; but all that seemed to 
 her far more endurable than the tenderness with which he 
 from time to time approached her. When she thought 
 of that, she shuddered and clenched her white teeth, and 
 doubled her fists so tightly that her nails 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 a mere 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; still it had been a great folly on her part to call 
 him into the house for the sake of amusing herself with 
 him. 
 
HOMO SUM. 173 
 
 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 fath- 
 er's water-clock to pieces, and had spoiled it. 
 
 She felt that she was very superior to Hernias, and 
 her position was now too grave a one for her to feel in- 
 clined to play any more. She thought indeed of Petrus 
 and Dorothea, but she could only reach them by going 
 back to the oasis, and then she feared to be discovered 
 by Phcebicius. 
 
 If Polykarp now could only meet her on his way 
 back from Raithu ; but the road she had just quitted did 
 not lead from thence, but to the gate- way that lay more 
 to the southwards. 
 
 The senator's son loved her — of that she was sure, 
 for no one else had ever looked into her eyes with such 
 deep delight, or such tender affection; and he was no 
 inexperienced boy, but a right earnest man, whose busy 
 and useful life now appeared to her in a quite different 
 light to that in which she had seen it formerly. How 
 willingly now would she have allowed herself to be 
 supported and guided by Polykarp! But how could 
 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 the morning 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 endeavor to get on 
 board a vessel to Klysma and thence reach Alexandria. 
 She wore a ring with a finely cut onyx on her finger, 
 elegant ear-rings in her ears, and on her left arm a 
 bracelet. These jewels were of virgin gold, and besides 
 
I7£ HOMO SUM. 
 
 these she had with her a few silver coins and one large 
 gold piece, 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 preserved as carefully as if it 
 were a talisman. 
 
 She pressed the token, which was sewn into a little 
 t>ag, to her lips, and thought of her paternal home, and 
 her brothers and sisters. 
 
 Meanwhile the sun mounted higher and higher: she 
 wandered from rock to rock in search of a shady spot 
 and a spring of water, but none was to be found, and 
 she was tormented with violent thirst and aching 
 hunger. By mid-day the strips of shade too had van- 
 ished, where she had found shelter from the rays of the 
 sun, which now beat down unmercifully on her un- 
 protected head. Her forehead and neck began to tingle 
 violently, and she fled before the burning beams like a 
 soldier before the shafts of his pursuer. Behind the 
 rocks which hemmed in the plateau on which Paulus 
 met her, at last, when she was quite exhausted, she 
 found a shady resting-place. The greyhound lay pant- 
 ing in her lap, and held up its broken paw, which she 
 had carefully bound up in the morning when she had 
 first sat down to rest, with a strip of stuff that she had 
 torn with the help of her teeth from her under-garment. 
 She now bound it up afresh, and nursed the little crea- 
 ture, caressing it like an infant. The dog was as wretch- 
 ed and suffering as herself, and besides it was the only 
 being that, 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 stir a hand 
 to stroke the dog. It slipped off her lap and limped 
 away, while she sat staring blankly before her, and at 
 
HOMO SUM. 175 
 
 last forgot her sufferings in an uneasy slumber, till she 
 was roused by Iambe's barking and the Alexandrian's 
 footstep. Almost half-dead, her mouth parched and 
 brain on fire, while her thoughts whirled in confusion, 
 she believed that Phoebicius had found her track, and 
 was come to seize her. She had already noted the 
 deep precipice to the edge of which she now fled, fully 
 resolved to fling herself over into the depths below, 
 rather than to surrender herself prisoner. 
 
 Paulus had rescued her from the fall, but now — as 
 he came up to her with two pieces of stone which were 
 slightly hollowed, so that he had been able to bring 
 some fresh water in them, and which he held level with 
 great difficulty, walking with the greatest care — he 
 thought that inexorable death had only too soon re- 
 turned to claim the victim he had snatched from him, 
 for Sirona's head hung down upon her breast, her face 
 was sunk towards her lap, and at the back of her head, 
 where her abundant hair parted into two flowing tresses, 
 Paulus observed on the snowy neck of the insensible 
 woman a red spot which the sun must have burnt 
 there. 
 
 His whole soul was full of compassion for the young, 
 fair, and unhappy creature, and, while he took hold of 
 her chin, which had sunk on her bosom, lifted her white 
 face, and moistened her forehead and lips with water, 
 he softly prayed for her salvation. 
 
 The shallow cavity of the stones only offered room 
 for a very small quantity of the refreshing moisture, 
 and so he was obliged to return several times to the 
 spring. While he was away the dog remained by his 
 mistress, and would now lick her hand, now put his 
 sharp little nose close up to her mouth, and examine 
 
176 HOMO SUM. 
 
 her with an anxious expression, as if to ascertain her 
 state of health. 
 
 When Paulus had gone the first time to fetch some 
 water for Sirona he had found the dog by the side of 
 the spring, and he could not help thinking, " The un- 
 reasoning brute has found the water without a guide 
 while his mistress is dying of thirst. Which is the wiser 
 —the man or the brute ? " The little dog on his part 
 strove to merit the anchorite's good 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 to time 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, he stroked Iambe's 
 smooth sharp head, and said, as he held a leaf that he 
 had 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 little more. She smacks 
 her lips as if I were giving her sweet Falernian. I will 
 go and fill the stone again; you stop here with her, I 
 shall be back again directly, but before I jeturn she will 
 have opened her eyes; you are pleasanter to look upon 
 than a shaggy old graybeard, and she will be better 
 pleased to see you than me when she awakes." Paulus' 
 prognosis was justified, for when he returned to Sirona 
 with a fresh supply of water she was sitting upright; 
 she rubbed her open eyes, stretched her limbs, clasped 
 the greyhound in both arms, and burst into a violent 
 flood of tears. 
 
 The Alexandrian stood aside motionless, so as not 
 to disturb her, thinking to himself: 
 
HOMO SUM. 177 
 
 "These tears will wash away a large part of her 
 suffering from her soul." 
 
 When at last she was calmer, and began to dry her 
 eyes, he went up to her, offered her the stone cup of 
 water, and spoke to her kindly. She drank with eager 
 satisfaction, and ate the last bit of bread that he could 
 find in the pocket of his garment, soaking it in the 
 water. She thanked him with the childlike sweetness 
 that was peculiar to her, and then tried to rise, and 
 willingly allowed him ta support her. She was still 
 very weary, and her head ached, but she could stand 
 and walk. 
 
 As soon as Paulus had satisfied himself that she 
 had no symptoms of fever, he said, " Now, for to-day, 
 you want nothing more but a warm mess of food, and 
 a bed sheltered from the night-chill; I will provide both. 
 You sit down here; the rocks are already throwing long 
 shadows, and before the sun disappears behind the 
 mountain I will return. While I am away, your four- 
 footed companion here will while away the time." 
 
 He hastened down to the spring with quick steps ; 
 close to it was the abandoned cave which he had 
 counted on inhabiting instead of his former dwelling. 
 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 
 so concealed from any but a practised eye, there were 
 some cakes of hard bread, and several pots. In one 
 of these were some good dates, in another gleamed 
 some white meal, a third was half full of sesame-oil, and 
 a fourth held some salt. 
 
178 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " How lucky it is," muttered the anchorite, as he 
 quitted the cave, " that the 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 all distrust of him impossible, 
 and Sirona was ready to follow him, but she felt 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 again to learn to walk." 
 
 "Then let me be your nurse. I knew a Spartan 
 dame once, who had a beard almost as rough as mine. 
 Lean confidently on me, and before we go down the 
 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 he remembered a day when his sister, who was re- 
 covering from a severe attack of fever, was first allowed 
 to go out into the open air. She had gone out, cling- 
 ing 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 de- 
 grees to assume the noble aspect of a high-born Greek ; 
 and instead of the rough, rocky soil, he felt as if he were 
 treading the beautiful mosaic pavement of his father's 
 court. Paulus was Menander again, and if there was 
 little in the presence of the recluse, which could recall his 
 identity with the old man he had trodden down, the de- 
 spised anchorite felt, while the expelled and sinful woman 
 leaned on his arm, the same proud sense of succoring a 
 
HOMO SUM. 179 
 
 woman, as when he was the most distinguished youth 
 of a metropolis, and when he had led forward the mas- 
 ter's much courted daughter in the midst of a shouting 
 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, and called 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, he supported and lifted her, but 
 he only spoke when she addressed him. 
 
 When they had reached their destination, he showed 
 her the bed, and begged her to keep awake, till he should 
 have prepared a dish of warm food for her, and he 
 shortly brought her a simple supper, and wished her a 
 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 the couch, where 
 she sank at once into a deep, dreamless sleep, while 
 Paulus passed the night sitting by the hearth. 
 
 He strove to banish ysleep by constant prayer, but 
 fatigue frequently overcaime him, and he could not help 
 thinking of the Gaulish lady, and of the many things, 
 which if only he were still the rich Menander, he would 
 procure in Alexandria for her and for her comfort. Not 
 one prayer could he bring to its due conclusion, for 
 either his eyes closed before he came to the "Amen," 
 or else worldly images crowded round him, and forced 
 him to begin his devotions again from the beginning, 
 when he had succeeded in recollecting himself. In this 
 half-somnolent state he obtained not one moment of in- 
 ward collectedness, of quiet reflection; not even when 
 he gazed up at the starry heavens, or looked down on 
 
180 HOMO SUM. 
 
 the oasis, veiled in night, where many others like him- 
 self were deserted by sleep. Which of the citizens could 
 it be that was watching by that light which he saw 
 glimmering down there in unwonted brightness ? — till 
 he himself, overpowered by fatigue, fell asleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The light in the town, which had attracted Paulus, 
 was in Petrus' house, and burnt in Polykarp's room, 
 which formed the whole of a small upper-story, which 
 the senator had constructed for his son over the north- 
 ern portion of the spacious flat roof of the main building. 
 
 The young man had arrived about noon with the 
 slaves he had just procured, had learned all that had 
 happened in his absence, and had silently withdrawn 
 into his own room after supper was ended. Here he 
 still lingered over his work. 
 
 A bed, a table on and under which lay a multitude 
 of wax-tablets, papyrus-rolls, metal-points, and writing- 
 reeds, with a small bench, on which stood a water-jar 
 and basin, composed the furniture of this room ; on its 
 whitewashed walls hung several admirable carvings in 
 relief, and figures of men and animals stood near them 
 in long rows. In one corner, near a stone water-jar, 
 lay a large, damp, shining mass of clay. 
 
 Three lamps fastened to stands abundantly lighted 
 this work-room, but chiefly a figure standing on a high 
 trestle, which Polykarp's fingers were industriously 
 moulding. 
 
 Phcebicius had called the young sculptor a fop, and 
 
HOMO SUM. 151 
 
 not altogether unjustly, for he loved to be well dressed 
 and was choice as to the cut and color of his simple 
 garments, and he rarely neglected to arrange his abun- 
 dant hair with care, and to anoint it well; and yet it was 
 almost indifferent to him, whether his appearance 
 pleased other people or no, but he knew nothing nobler 
 than the human form, and an instinct, which he did 
 not attempt to check, impelled him to keep his own 
 person as nice as he liked to see that of his neighbor. 
 
 Now at this hour of the night, he wore only a shirt 
 of white woollen stuff, with a deep red border. His 
 locks, usually so well-kept, seemed to stand out from 
 his head separately, and instead of smoothing and con- 
 fining them, he added to their wild disorder, for, as he 
 worked, he frequently passed his hand through them 
 with a hasty movement. A bat, attracted by the bright 
 light, flew in at the open window — which was screened 
 only at the bottom by a dark curtain — and fluttered 
 round the ceiling; but he did not observe it, for his 
 work absorbed his whole soul and mind. In this eager 
 and passionate occupation, in which every nerve and 
 vein in his being seemed to bear a part, no cry for help 
 would have struck his ear — even a flame breaking out 
 close to him would not have caught his eye. His 
 cheeks glowed, a fine dew of glistening sweat covered 
 his brow, and his very gaze seemed to become more 
 and more firmly riveted to the sculpture as it took form 
 under his hand. Now and again he stepped back from 
 it, and leaned backwards from his hips, raising his hands 
 to the level of his temples, as if to narrow the field of 
 vision ; then he went up to the model, and clutched the 
 plastic mass of clay, as though it were the flesh of his 
 enemy. 
 
182 HOMO SUM. 
 
 He was now at work on the flowing hair of the 
 figure before him, which had already taken the outline 
 of a female head, and he flung the bits of clay, which 
 he removed from the back of it, to the ground, as 
 violently as though he were casting them at an an- 
 tagonist at his feet. Again his finger-tips and modelling- 
 tool were busy with the mouth, nose, cheeks, and eyes, 
 and his own eyes took a softer expression, which gradu- 
 ally grew to be a gaze of ecstatic delight, as the features 
 he was moulding began to agree more and more with 
 the image, which at this time excluded every other from 
 his imagination. 
 
 At last, with glowing cheeks, he had finished round- 
 ing the soft form of the shoulders, and drew back once 
 more to contemplate the effect of the completed work; 
 a cold shiver seized him, and he felt himself impelled to 
 lift it up, and dash it to the ground with all his force. 
 But he soon mastered this stormy excitement, he 
 pushed his hand through his hair again and again, and 
 posted himself, with a melancholy smile and with folded 
 hands, in front of his creation; sunk deeper and deeper 
 in his contemplation of it, he did not observe that the 
 door behind him was opened, although the flame of his 
 lamps flickered in the draught, and that his mother had 
 entered the work-room, and by no means endeavored 
 to approach him unheard, or to surprise him. In her 
 anxiety for her darling, who had gone through so many 
 bitter experiences during the past day, she had not been 
 able to sleep. Polykarp's room lay above her bed- 
 room, and when his steps over head betrayed that, 
 though it was now near morning, he had not yet gone 
 to rest, she had risen from her bed without waking 
 Petrus, who seemed to be sleeping. She obeyed her 
 
HOMO SUM. 183 
 
 motherly impulse to encourage Polykarp with some 
 loving words, and climbing up the narrow stair that led 
 to the roof, she went into his room. Surprised, irreso- 
 lute, and speechless she stood for some time behind the 
 young man, and looked at the strongly illuminated and 
 beautiful features of the newly-formed bust, which was 
 only too like its well-known prototype. At last she laid 
 her hand on her son's shoulder, and spoke his name. 
 
 Polykarp stepped back, and looked at his mother in 
 bewilderment, like a man roused from sleep; but she 
 interrupted the stammering speech with which he tried 
 to greet her, by saying, gravely and not without 
 severity, as she pointed to the statue, " What does this 
 mean ?" 
 
 '•What should it mean, mother?" answered Poly- 
 karp in a low tone, and shaking his head sadly. "Ask 
 me no more at present, for if you gave me no rest, and 
 even if I tried to explain to you how to-day — this very 
 day — I have felt impelled and driven to make this 
 woman's image, still you could not understand me — no, 
 nor any one else." 
 
 "God forbid that I should ever understand it!" cried 
 Dorothea. "'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's 
 wife, was the commandment of the Lord on this moun- 
 tain. And you? You think I could not understand 
 you? Who should understand you then, if not your 
 mother? This I certainly do not comprehend, that a 
 son of Petrus and of mine should have thrown all the 
 teaching and the example of his parents so utterly to 
 the wind. But what you are aiming at with this statue, 
 it seems to me is not hard to guess. As the forbidden- 
 fruit hangs too high for you, you degrade your art, and 
 make to yourself an image that resembles her according 
 
184 HOMO SUM. 
 
 to your taste. Simply and plainly it comes to this; as 
 you can no longer see the Gaul's wife in her own per- 
 son, and yet cannot exist without the sweet presence of 
 the fair one, you make a portrait of clay to make love 
 to, and you will carry on idolatry before it, as once the 
 Jews did before the golden calf and the brazen serpent." 
 
 Polykarp submitted to his mother's angry blame in 
 silence, but in painful emotion. Dorothea had never 
 before spoken to him thus, and to hear such words 
 from the very lips which were used to address him with 
 such heart-felt tenderness, gave him unspeakable pain. 
 Hitherto she had always been inclined to make excuses 
 for his weaknesses and little faults, nay, the zeal with 
 which she had observed and pointed out his merits and 
 performances before strangers as well as before their 
 own family, had often seemed to him embarrassing. 
 And now? She had indeed reason to blame him, for 
 Sirona was the wife of another, she had never even 
 noticed his admiration, and now, they all said, had com- 
 mitted a crime for the sake of a stranger. It must seem 
 both a mad and a sirful thing in the eyes of men that 
 he of all others should sacrifice the best he had — his 
 Art— and how little could Dorothea, who usually en- 
 deavored to understand him, comprehend the overpow- 
 ering impulse which had driven him to his task. 
 
 He loved and honored his mother with his whole 
 heart, and feeling that she was doing herself an injustice 
 by her false and low estimate of his proceedings, he 
 interrupted her eager discourse, raising his hands implor- 
 ingly to her. 
 
 " No, mother, no!" he exclaimed. "As truly as God 
 is my helper, it is not so. It is true that I have 
 moulded this head, but not to keep it, and commit the 
 
HOMO SUM. 185 
 
 sin of worshipping it, but rather to free myself from the 
 image that stands before my mind's eye by day and by 
 night, in the city and in the desert, whose beauty dis- 
 tracts my mind when I think, and my devotions when 
 I try to pray. To whom is it given to read the soul of 
 man? And is not Sirona's form and face the loveliest 
 image of the Most High? So to represent it, that the 
 whole charm that her presence exercises over me might 
 also be felt by every beholder, is a task that I have set 
 myself ever since her arrival in our house. I had to go 
 back to the capital, and the work I longed to achieve 
 took a clearer form; at every hour I discovered some- 
 thing to change and to improve in the pose of the head, 
 the glance of the eye or the expression of the mouth. 
 But still I lacked courage to put the work in hand, for 
 it seemed too audacious to attempt to give reality to the 
 glorious image in my soul, by the aid of gray clay and 
 pale cold marble; to reproduce it so that the perfect work 
 should delight the eye of sense, no less than the image 
 enshrined in my breast delights my inward eye. At the 
 same time I was not idle, I gained the prize for the 
 model of the lions, and if I have succeeded with the 
 Good Shepherd blessing the flock, which is for the sar- 
 cophagus of Comes, and if the master could praise the 
 expression of devoted tenderness in the look of the Re- 
 deemer, I know — nay, do not interrupt me, mother, for 
 what I felt was a pure emotion and no sin — I know 
 that it was because I was myself so full of love, that I 
 was enabled to inspire the very stone with love. At 
 last I had no peace, and even without my father's 
 orders I must have returned home; then I saw her 
 again, and found her even more lovely than the image 
 which reigned in my soul. I heard her voice, and her 
 
1.86 HOMO SUM. 
 
 silvery bell-like laughter — and then — and then — . You 
 know very well what I learned yesterday. The un- 
 worthy wife of an unworthy husband, the woman Sirona, 
 is gone from me for ever, and I was striving to drive 
 her image from my soul, to annihilate it and dissipate 
 it — but in vain ! and by degrees a wonderful stress of 
 creative power came upon me. I hastily placed the 
 lamps, took the clay in my hand, and feature by feature 
 I brought forth with bitter joy the image that is deeply 
 graven in my heart, believing that thus I might be 
 released from the spell. There is the fruit which was 
 ripened in my heart, but there, where it so long has 
 dwelt, I feel a dismal void, and if the husk which so 
 long tenderly enfolded this image were to wither and 
 fall asunder, I should not wonder at it. — To that thing 
 there clings the best part of my life." 
 
 "Enough!" exclaimed Dorothea, interrupting her 
 son who stood before her in great agitation and with 
 trembling lips. "God forbid that that mask there 
 should destroy your life and soul. I suffer nothing 
 impure within my house, and -you should not in your 
 heart. That which is evil can never more be fair, and 
 however lovely the face there may look to you, it looks 
 quite as repulsive to me when I reflect that it probably 
 smiled still more fascinatingly on some strolling beggar. 
 If the Gaul brings her back I will turn her out of my 
 house, and I will destroy her image with my own hands 
 if you do not break it in pieces on the spot." 
 
 Dorothea's eyes were swimming in tears as she 
 spoke these words. She had felt with pride and emotion 
 during her son's speech how noble and high-minded he 
 was, and the idea that this rare and precious treasure 
 should be spoilt or perhaps altogether ruined for the 
 
HOMO SUM. 187 
 
 sake of a lost woman, drove her to desperation, and 
 filled her motherly heart with indignation. 
 
 Firmly resolved to carry out her threat she stepped 
 towards the figure, but Polykarp placed himself in her 
 way, raising his arm imploringly to defend it, and say- 
 ing, " Not to-day — not yet, mother ! I will cover it 
 up, and will not look at it again till to-morrow, but 
 once — only once — I must see it again by sunlight." 
 
 " So that to-morrow the old madness may revive in 
 you ! " cried Dorothea. " Move out of my way or take 
 the hammer yourself." 
 
 " You order it, and you are my mother," said Poly- 
 karp. 
 
 , He slowly went up to the chest in which his tools 
 and instruments lay, and bitter tears ran down his cheeks, 
 as he took his heaviest hammer in his hand. 
 
 When the sky has shown for many days in summer- 
 blue, and then suddenly the clouds gather for a storm, 
 when the first silent but fearful flash with it noisy but 
 harmless associate the thunder-clap has terrified the 
 world, a second and third thunder-bolt immediately 
 follow. Since the stormy night of yesterday had broken 
 in on the peaceful, industrious, and monotonous life by 
 the senator's hearth, many things had happened that 
 had filled him and his wife with fresh anxiety. 
 
 In other houses it was nothing remarkable that a 
 slave should run away, but in the senator's it was more 
 than twenty years since such a thing had occurred, and 
 yesterday the goat-herd Miriam had disappeared. This 
 was vexatious, but the silent sorrow of his son Polykarp 
 was a greater anxiety to Petrus. It did not please him 
 that the youth, who was usually so vehement, should 
 submit unresistingly and almost indifferently to the 
 
1 88 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Bishop Agapitus, who prohibited his completing his 
 lions. His son's sad gaze, his crushed and broken as- 
 pect were still in his mind when at last he went to rest 
 for the night; it was already late, but sleep avoided 
 him even as it had avoided Dorothea. While the 
 mother was thinking of her son's sinful love and the 
 bleeding wound in his young and betrayed heart, the 
 father grieved for Polykarp's baffled hopes of exercising 
 his art on a great work and recalled the saddest, bitterest 
 day of his own youth; for he too had served his ap- 
 prenticeship under a sculptor in Alexandria, had looked 
 up to the works of the heathen as noble models, and 
 striven to form himself upon them. He had already 
 been permitted by his master to execute designs of his 
 own, and out of the abundance of subjects which of- 
 fered themselves, he had chosen to model an Ariadne, 
 waiting and longing for the return of Theseus, as a 
 symbolic image of his own soul awaiting its salvation. 
 How this work had filled his mind ! how delightful had 
 the hours of labor seemed to him! — when, suddenly, 
 his stern father had come to the city, had seen his work 
 before it was quite finished, and instead of praising it 
 had scorned it ; had abused it as a heathen idol, and 
 had commanded Petrus to return home with him im- 
 mediately, and to remain there, for that his son should 
 be a pious Christian, and a good stone-mason withal — 
 not half a heathen, and a maker of false gods. 
 
 Petrus had much loved his art, but he offered no re- 
 sistance to his father's orders; he followed him back to 
 the oasis, there to superintend the work of the slaves 
 who hewed the stone, to measure granite-blocks for 
 sarcophagi and pillars, and to direct the cutting of them. 
 
 His father was a man of steel, and he himself a lad 
 
HOMO SUM. 189 
 
 of iron, and when he saw himself compelled to yield to 
 his father and to leave his master's workshop, to aban- 
 don his cherished and unfinished work and to become 
 an artizan and man of business, he swore never again 
 to take a piece of clay in his hand, or to wield a chisel. 
 And he kept his word even after his fathers death; but 
 his creative instincts and love of art continued to live 
 and work in him, and were transmitted to his two sons. 
 
 Antonius was a highly gifted artist, and if Poly- 
 karp's master was not mistaken, and if he himself were 
 not misled by fatherly affection, his second son was on 
 the high road to the very first rank in art — to a position 
 reached only by elect spirits. 
 
 Petrus knew the models for the Good Shepherd and 
 for the lions, and declared to himself that these last 
 were unsurpassable in truth, power, and majesty. How 
 eagerly must the young artist long to execute them in 
 hard stone, and to see them placed in the honored, 
 though indeed pagan, spot, which was intended for 
 them. And now the bishop forbade him the work, and 
 the poor fellow might well be feeling just as he himself 
 had felt thirty years ago, when he had been commanded 
 to abandon the immature first-fruits of his labor. 
 
 Was the bishop indeed right? This and many 
 other questions agitated the sleepless father, and as 
 soon as he heard that his wife had risen from her bed 
 to go to her son, whose footsteps he too could hear 
 overhead, he got up and followed her. 
 
 He found the door of the work-room open, and,* 
 himself unseen and unheard, he was witness to his 
 wife's vehement speech, and to the lad's justification, 
 while Polykarp's work stood in the full light of the 
 lamps, exactly in front of him. 
 
I90 HOMO SUM. 
 
 His gaze was spell-bound to the mass of clay; he 
 looked and looked, and was not weary of looking, and 
 his soul swelled with the same awe-struck sense of de- 
 vout admiration that it had experienced, when for the 
 first time, in his early youth, he saw with his own eyes 
 the works of the great old Athenian masters in the 
 Caesareum. 
 
 And this head was his son's work! 
 
 He stood there greatly overcome, his hands clasped 
 together, holding his breath till his mouth was dry, and 
 swallowing his tears to keep them from falling. At the 
 same time he listened with anxious attention, so as not 
 to lose one word of Polykarp's. 
 
 "Aye, thus and thus only are great works of art 
 begotten," said he to himself, "and if the Lord had 
 bestowed on me such gifts as on this lad, no father, nay, 
 no god, should have compelled me to leave my Ariadne 
 unfinished. The attitude of the body was not bad I 
 should say — but the head, the face — Aye, the man who 
 can mould such a likeness as that has his hand and eye 
 guided by the holy spirits of art. He who has done 
 that head will be praised in the latter days together 
 with the great Athenian masters — and he — yes, he, mer- 
 ciful Heaven! he is my own beloved son!" 
 
 A blessed sense of rejoicing, such as he had not felt 
 since his early youth, filled his heart, and Dorothea's 
 ardor seemed to him half pitiful and half amusing. 
 
 It was not till his duteous son took the hammer in 
 his hand, that he stepped between his wife and the 
 bust, saying kindly: 
 
 "There will be time enough to-morrow to destroy 
 the work. Forget the model, my son, now that you 
 have taken advantage of it so successfully. I know of 
 
HOMO SUM. 191 
 
 a better mistress for you — Art — to whom belongs every- 
 thing of beauty that the Most High has created — Art in 
 all its breadth and fulness, not fettered and narrowed 
 by any Agapitus." 
 
 Polykarp flung himself into his father's arms, and 
 the stern man, hardly master of his emotions, kissed 
 the boy's forehead, his eyes, and his cheeks. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 At noon of the following day the senator went to 
 the women's room, and while he was still on the 
 threshold, he asked his wife — who was busy at the 
 loom — 
 
 "Where is Polykarp? I did not find him with An- 
 tonius, who is working at the placing of the altar, and I 
 thought I might find him here." 
 
 "After going to the church," said Dorothea, "he 
 went up the mountain. Go down to the work- 
 shops, Marthana, and see if your brother has come 
 back." 
 
 Her daughter obeyed quickly and gladly, for her 
 brother was to her the dearest, and seemed to her to be 
 the best, of men. As soon as the pair were alone to- 
 gether Petrus said, while he held out his hand to his 
 wife with genial affection, "Well, mother — shake 
 hands." Dorothea paused for an instant, looking him 
 in the face, as if to ask him, " Does your pride at last 
 allow you to cease doing me an injustice?" It was a 
 reproach, but in truth not a severe one, or her lips 
 would hardly have trembled so tenderly, as she said, 
 
192 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "You cannot be angry with me any longer, and it is 
 well that all should once more be as it ought." 
 
 All certainly had not been "as it ought," for since 
 the husband and wife had met in Polykarp's work-room, 
 they had behaved to each other as if they were 
 strangers. In their bedroom, on the way to church, 
 and at breakfast, they had spoken to each no more than 
 was absolutely necessary, or than was requisite in order 
 to conceal their difference from the servants and 
 children. Up to this time, an understanding had 
 always subsisted between them that had never taken 
 form in words, and yet that had scarcely in a single 
 case been infringed, that neither should ever praise one 
 of their children for anything that the other thought 
 blameworthy, and vice versa. 
 
 But in this night, her husband had followed up her 
 severest condemnation by passionately embracing the 
 wrong-doer. Never had she been so stern in any cir- 
 cumstances, while on the other hand her husband, so 
 long as she could remember, had never been so soft- 
 hearted and tender to his son, and yet she had con- 
 trolled herself so far, as not to contradict Petrus in 
 Polykarp's presence, and to leave the work-room in 
 silence with her husband. 
 
 "When we are once alone together in the bed- 
 room," thought she, " I will represent to him his error 
 as I ought, and he will have to answer for himself." 
 
 But she did not carry out this purpose, for she felt 
 that something must be passing in her husband's mind 
 that she did not understand; otherwise how could his 
 grave eyes shine so mildly and kindly, and his stern 
 lips smile so affectionately after all that had occurred 
 when he, lamp in hand, had mounted the narrow stair. 
 
HOMO SUM. 193 
 
 He had often told her that she could read his soul like 
 an open book, but she did not conceal from herself 
 that there were certain sides of that complex structure 
 whose meaning she was incapable of comprehending. 
 And strange to say, she ever and again came upon 
 these incomprehensible phases of his soul, when the 
 images of the gods, and the idolatrous temples of the 
 heathen, or when their sons' enterprises and work were 
 the matters in hand. And yet Petrus was the son of a 
 pious Christian ; but his grandfather had been a Greek 
 heathen, and hence perhaps a certain something 
 wrought in his blood which tormented her, because she 
 could not reconcile it with Agapitus' doctrine, but 
 which she nevertheless dared not attempt to oppose 
 because her taciturn husband never spoke out with so 
 much cheerfulness and frankness as when he might 
 talk of these things with his sons and their friends, who 
 often accompanied them to the oasis. Certainly, it 
 could be nothing sinful that at this particular moment 
 seemed to light up her husband's face, and restore his 
 youth. 
 
 "They just are men," said she to herself, "and in 
 many things they have the advantage of us women. 
 The old man looks as he did on his wedding-day! 
 Polykarp is the very image of him, as every one says, 
 and now, looking at the father, and recalling to my 
 mind how the boy looked when he told me how he 
 could not refrain from making Sirona's portrait, I must 
 say that I never saw such a likeness in the whole 
 course of my life." 
 
 He bid her a friendly good night, and extinguished 
 the lamp. She would willingly have said a loving word 
 to him, for his contented expression touched and com- 
 
194 HOMO SUM. 
 
 forted her, but that would just then have been too much 
 after what she had gone through in her son's work- 
 room. In former years it had happened pretty often 
 that, when one of them had caused dissatisfaction to 
 the other, and there had been some quarrel between 
 them, they had gone to rest unreconciled, but the older 
 they grew the more rarely did this occur, and it was 
 now a long time since any shadow had fallen on the 
 perfect serenity of their married life. 
 
 Three years ago, on the occasion of the marriage 
 of their eldest son, they had been standing together, 
 looking up at the starry sky, when Petrus had come 
 close up to her, and had said, " How calmly and peace- 
 fully the wanderers up there follow their roads without 
 jostling or touching one another! As I walked home 
 alone from the quarries by their friendly light, I thought 
 of many things. Perhaps there was once a time when 
 the stars rushed wildly about in confusion, crossing each 
 other's path, while many a star flew in pieces at the 
 impact. Then the Lord created man, and love came 
 into the world and filled the heavens and the earth, 
 and he commanded the stars to be our light by night; 
 then each began to respect the path of the other, and 
 the stars more rarely came into collision till even the 
 smallest and swiftest kept to its own path and its own 
 period, and the shining host above grew to be as har- 
 monious as it is numberless. Love and a common 
 purpose worked this marvel, for he who loves another, 
 will do him no injury, and he who is bound to perfect 
 a work with the help of another, will not hinder nor 
 delay him. We two have long since found the right 
 road, and if at any time one of us is inclined to cross 
 the path of the other, we are held back by love and by 
 
HOMO SUM. 195 
 
 our common duty, namely to shed a pure light on the 
 path of our children." 
 
 Dorothea had never forgotten these words, and they 
 came into her mind now again when Petrus held out 
 his hand to her so warmly; as she laid hers in it, she 
 said: 
 
 " For the sake of dear peace, well and good — but 
 one thing I cannot leave unsaid. Soft-hearted weak- 
 ness is not usually your defect, but you will utterly 
 spoil Polykarp." 
 
 " Leave him, let us leave him as he is," cried Petrus, 
 kissing his wife's brow. " It is strange how we have 
 exchanged parts! Yesterday you were exhorting me 
 to mildness towards the lad, and to-day — " 
 
 " To-day I am severer than you," interrupted Doro- 
 thea. " Who, indeed, could guess that an old gray- 
 beard would derogate from the duties of his office as 
 father and as judge for the sake of a woman's smiling 
 face in clay — as Esau sold his birthright for a mess of 
 pottage?" 
 
 "And to whom would it occur," asked Petrus, tak- 
 ing up his wife's tone, " that so tender a mother as you 
 would condemn her favorite son, because he labored to 
 earn peace for his soul by a deed — by a work for which 
 his master might envy him ? " 
 
 " I have indeed observed," interrupted Dorothea, 
 " that Sirona's image has bewitched you, and you speak 
 as if the boy had achieved some great miracle. I do 
 not know much about modelling and sculpture, and I 
 will not contradict you, but if the fair-haired creature's 
 face were less pretty, and if Polykarp had not executed 
 any thing remarkable, would it have made the smallest 
 difference in what he has done and felt wrong ? Cer- 
 
196 HOMO SUM. 
 
 tainly not. But that is just like men, they care only 
 for success," 
 
 "And with perfect justice," answered Petrus, "if 
 the success is attained, not in mere child's play, but by 
 a severe struggle. 'To him, that hath, shall more be 
 given,' says the scripture, and he who has a soul more 
 richly graced than others have — he who is helped by 
 good spirits — he shall be forgiven many things that 
 even a mild judge would be unwilling to pardon in a 
 man of poor gifts, who torments and exerts himself and 
 yet brings nothing to perfection. Be kind to the boy 
 again. Do you know what prospect lies before you 
 through him ? You yourself in your life have done 
 much good, and spoken much wisdom, and I, and the 
 children, and the people in this place, will never forget 
 it all. But I can promise you the gratitude of the best 
 and noblest who now live or who will live in centuries 
 to come — for that you are the mother of Polykarp!" 
 
 "And people say," cried Dorothea, "that every 
 mother has four eyes for her children's merits. If that 
 is true, then fathers no doubt have ten, and you as 
 many as Argus, of whom the heathen legend speaks — 
 But there comes Polykarp." 
 
 Petrus went forward to meet his son, and gave him 
 his hand, but in quite a different manner to what he 
 had formerly shown ; at least it seemed to Dorothea 
 that her husband received the youth, no longer as his 
 father and master, but as a friend greets a friend who is 
 his equal in privileges and judgment. When Polykarp 
 turned to greet her also she colored all over, for the 
 thought flashed through her mind that her son, when 
 he thought of the past night, must regard her as unjust 
 or foolish; but she soon recovered her own calm equa- 
 
HOMO SUM. 197 
 
 nimity, for Polykarp was the same as ever, and she read 
 in his eyes that he felt towards her the same as yester- 
 day and as ever. 
 
 " Love," thought she, " is not extinguished by in- 
 justice, as fire is by water. It blazes up brighter or less 
 bright, no doubt, according to the way the wind blows, 
 but it cannot be wholly smothered — least of all by 
 death." 
 
 Polykarp had been up the mountain, and Dorothea 
 was quite satisfied when he related what had led him 
 thither. He had long since planned the execution of 
 a statue of Moses, and when his father had left him, he 
 could not get the tall and dignified figure of the old 
 man out of his mind. He felt that he had found the 
 right model for his work. He must, he would forget — 
 and he knew, that he could only succeed if he found a 
 task which might promise to give some new occupation 
 to his bereaved soul. Still, he had seen the form of the 
 mighty man of God which he proposed to model, only 
 in vague outline before his mind's eye, and he had been 
 prompted to go to a spot whither many pilgrims re- 
 sorted, and which was known as the Place of Commun- 
 ion, because it was there that the Lord had spoken to 
 Moses. There Polykarp had spent some time, for 
 there, if anywhere — there, where the Law-giver himself 
 had stood, must he find right inspiration. 
 
 " And you have accomplished your end ? " asked his 
 father. 
 
 Polykarp shook his head. 
 
 " If you go often enough to the sacred spot, it will 
 come to you," said Dorothea. " The beginning is al- 
 ways the chief difficulty; only begin at once to model 
 your father's head." 
 
igS HOMO SUM. 
 
 " I have already begun it," replied Polykarp, " but 
 I am still tired from last night." 
 
 "You look pale, and have dark lines under your 
 eyes," said Dorothea anxiously. " Go up stairs and lie 
 down to rest. I will follow you and bring you a beak- 
 er of old wine." 
 
 " That will not hurt him," said Petrus, thinking as 
 he spoke — " A draught of Lethe would serve him even 
 better." 
 
 When, an hour later, the senator sought his son in 
 his work-room, he found him sleeping, and the wine 
 stood untouched on the table. Petrus softly laid his 
 hand on his son's forehead and found it cool and free 
 from fever. Then he went quietly up to the portrait 
 of Sirona, raised the cloth with which it was covered, 
 and stood before it a long time sunk in thought. At 
 last he drew back, covered it up again, and examined 
 the models which stood on a shelf fastened to the 
 wall. 
 
 A small female figure particularly fixed his atten- 
 tion, and he was taking it admiringly in his hand when 
 Polykarp awoke. 
 
 " That is the image of the goddess of fate — that is a 
 Tyche," said Petrus. 
 
 " Do not be angry with me, father," entreated Poly- 
 karp. " You know, the figure of a Tyche is to stand in 
 the hand of the statue of the Caesar that is intended for 
 the new city of Constantine, and so I have tried to rep- 
 resent the goddess. The drapery and pose of the 
 arms, I think, have succeeded, but I failed in the head." 
 
 Petrus, who had listened to him with attention, 
 glanced involuntarily at the head of Sirona, and Poly- 
 karp followed his eyes surprised and almost startled. 
 
HOMO SUM. 199 
 
 t 
 
 The father and son had understood each other, and 
 Polykarp said, "I had already thought of that." 
 
 " Then he sighed bitterly, and said to himself, " Yes 
 and verily, she is the goddess of my fate." But he 
 dared not utter this aloud. 
 
 But Petrus had heard him sigh, and said, " Let 
 that pass. This head smiles with sweet fascination, 
 and the countenance of the goddess that rules the 
 actions even of the immortals, should be stern and 
 grave." 
 
 Polykarp could contain himself no longer. 
 
 " Yes, father," he exclaimed. " Fate is terrible — 
 and yet I will represent the goddess with a smiling 
 mouth, for that which is most terrible in her is, that she 
 rules not by stern laws, but smiles while she makes us 
 her sport." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It was a splendid morning; not a cloud dimmed 
 the sky which spread high above desert, mountain, and 
 oasis, like an arched tent of uniform deep-blue silk. 
 How delicious it is to breathe the pure, light, aromatic 
 air on the heights, before the rays of the sun acquire 
 their mid-day power, and the shadows of the heated 
 porphyry cliffs, growing shorter and shorter, at last 
 wholly disappear! 
 
 With what delight did Sirona inhale this pure at- 
 mosphere, when after a long night — the fourth that she 
 had passed in the anchorite's dismal cave — she stepped 
 out into the air. Paulus sat by the hearth, and was so 
 
200 HOMO SUM. 
 
 busily engaged with some carving, that he did not ob- 
 serve her approach. 
 
 " Kind good man!" thought Sirona, as she perceived 
 a steaming pot on the fire, and the palm-branches 
 which the Alexandrian had fastened up by the entrance 
 to the cave, to screen her from the mounting sun. She 
 knew the way without a guide to the spring from which 
 Paulus had brought her water at their first meeting, and 
 she now slipped away, and went down to it with a pret- 
 ty little pitcher of burnt clay in her hand. Paulus did 
 indeed see her, but he made as though he neither saw 
 nor heard, for he knew she was going there to wash 
 herself, and to dress and smarten herself as well as 
 might be — for was she not a woman! When she re- 
 turned, she looked not less fresh and charming than on 
 that morning when she had been seen and watched by 
 Hermas. True, her heart was sore, true, she was per- 
 plexed and miserable, but sleep and rest had long since 
 eiTaced from her healthy, youthful, and elastic frame all 
 traces left by that fearful day of flight; and fate, which 
 often means best by us when it shows us a hostile face, 
 had sent her a minor anxiety to divert her from her 
 graver cares. 
 
 Her greyhound was very ill, and it seemed that in 
 the ill-treatment it had experienced, not only its leg had 
 been broken, but that it had suffered some internal in- 
 jury. The brisk, lively little creature fell down power- 
 less when ever it tried to stand, and when she took it 
 up to nurse it comfortably in her lap, it whined pitifully, 
 and looked up at her sorrowfully, and as if complaining 
 to her. It would take neither food nor drink; its cool 
 little nose was hot; and when she left the cave, Iambe 
 lay panting on the fine woollen coverlet which Paulus 
 
HOMO SUM. 20I 
 
 had spread upon the bed, unable even to look after 
 her. 
 
 Before taking the dog the water she had fetched in 
 the graceful jar — which was another gift from her hos- 
 pitable friend — she went up to Paulus and greeted him 
 kindly. He looked up from his work, thanked her, 
 and a few minutes later, when she came out of the cave 
 again, asked her, " How is the poor little creature ? " 
 
 Sirona shrugged her shoulders, and said sadly, " She 
 has drunk nothing, and does not even know me, and 
 pants as rapidly as last evening — if I were to lose the 
 poor little beast ! — " 
 
 She could say no more for emotion, but Paulus 
 shook his head. 
 
 " It is sinful," he said, " to grieve so for a beast de- 
 void of reason." 
 
 "Iambe is not devoid of reason," replied Sirona. 
 "And even if she were, what have I left if she dies? 
 She grew up in my father's house, where all loved me; I 
 had her first when she was only a few days old, and I 
 brought her up on milk on a little bit of sponge. 
 Many a time, when I heard the little thing whining for 
 food, have I got out of bed at night with bare feet; 
 and so she came to cling to me like a child, and could 
 not do without me. No one can know how another 
 feels about such things. My father used to tell us of a 
 spider that beautified the life of a prisoner, and what is 
 a dirty dumb creature like that to my clever, graceful 
 little dog! I have lost my home, and here every one 
 believes the worst of me, although I have done no one 
 any harm, and no one, no one loves me but Iambe." 
 
 " But I know of one who loves every one with a di- 
 vine and equal love," interrupted Paulus. 
 
202 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " I do not care for such a one," answered Sirona.. 
 "Iambe follows no one but me; what good can a love 
 do me that I must share with all the world! But you 
 mean the crucified God of the Christians ? He is good 
 and pitiful, so says Dame Dorothea; but he is dead — I 
 cannot see him, nor hear him, and, certainly, I cannot 
 long for one who only shows me grace. I want one to 
 whom I can count for something, and to whose life and 
 happiness I am indispensable." 
 
 A scarcely perceptible shudder thrilled through the 
 Alexandrian as she spoke these words, and he thought, 
 as he glanced at her face and figure with a mingled ex- 
 pression of regret and admiration, "Satan, before he 
 fell, was the fairest among the pure spirits, and he still 
 has power over this woman. She is still far from being 
 ripe for salvation, and yet she has a gentle heart, and 
 even if she has erred, she is not lost." 
 
 Sirona's eyes had met his, and she said with a sigh, 
 "You look at me so compassionately — if only Iambe 
 were well, and if I succeeded in reaching Alexandria, 
 my destiny would perhaps take a turn for the better." 
 
 Paulus had risen while she spoke, and had taken the 
 pot from the hearth; he now offered it to his guest, say- 
 ing: 
 
 " For the present we will trust to this broth to com- 
 pensate to you for the delights of the capital; I am 
 glad that you relish it. But tell me now, have you 
 seriously considered what danger may threaten a beau- 
 tiful, young, and unprotected woman in the wicked city 
 of the Greeks ? Would it not be better that you should 
 submit to the consequences of your guilt, and return to 
 Phoebicius, to whom unfortunately you belong ? " 
 
 Sirona, at these words, had set down the vessel out 
 
HOMO SUM. 203 
 
 of which she was eating, and rising in passionate haste,, 
 she exclaimed: 
 
 "That shall never, never be! — And when I was sit- 
 ting up there half-dead, and took your step for that of 
 Phcebicius, the gods showed me a way to escape from 
 him, and from you or anyone who would drag me 
 back to him. When I fled to the edge of the abyss, I 
 was raving and crazed, but what I then would have 
 done in my madness, I would do now in cold blood — 
 as surely as I hope to see my own people in Arelas 
 once more ! What was I once, and to what have I come 
 through Phcebicius! Life was to me a sunny garden 
 with golden trellises and shady trees and waters as 
 bright as crystal, with rosy flowers and singing birds; 
 and he, he has darkened its light, and fouled its springs, 
 and broken down its flowers. All now seems dumb 
 and colorless, and if the abyss is my grave, no one will 
 miss me nor mourn for me." 
 
 " Poor woman !" said Paulus. "Your husband then 
 showed you very little love." 
 
 " Love," laughed Sirona, " Phcebicius and love ! 
 Only yesterday I told you, how cruelly he used to tor- 
 ture me after his feasts, when he was drunk or when 
 he recovered from one of his swoons. But one thing 
 he did to me, one thing which broke the last thread of 
 a tie between us. No one yet has ever heard a word 
 of it from me; not even Dorothea, who often blamed 
 me when I let slip a hard word against my husband. 
 It was well for her to talk — if I had found a husband 
 like Petrus I might perhaps have been like Dorothea. 
 It is a marvel, which I myself do not understand, that 
 I did not grow wicked with such a man, a man who — 
 why should I conceal it — who, when we were at Rome, 
 
204 HOMO SUM. 
 
 because he was in debt, and because he hoped to get 
 promotion through his legate Quintillus, sold me — me — 
 to him. He himself brought the old man — who had 
 often followed me about — into his house, but our 
 hostess, a good woman, had overheard the matter, and 
 betrayed it all to me. It is so base, so vile — it seems 
 to blacken my soul only to think of it ! The legate got 
 little enough in return for his sesterces, but Phcebicius 
 did not restore his wages of sin, and his rage against 
 me knew no bounds when he was transferred to the 
 oasis at the instigation of his betrayed chief. Now you 
 know all, and never advise me again to return to that 
 man to whom my misfortune has bound me. 
 
 " Only listen how the poor little beast in there is 
 whining. It wants to come to me, and has not the 
 strength to move." 
 
 Paulus looked after her sympathetically as she dis- 
 appeared under the opening in the rock, and he awaited 
 her return with folded arms. He could not see into the 
 cave, for the space in which the bed stood was closed 
 at the end by the narrow passage which formed the 
 entrance, and which joined it at an angle as the handle 
 of a scythe joins the blade. She remained a long time, 
 and he could hear now and then a tender word with 
 which she tried to comfort the suffering creature. Sud- 
 denly he was startled by a loud and bitter cry from 
 Sirona; no doubt, the poor woman's affectionate little 
 companion was dead, and in the dim twilight of the 
 cave she had seen its dulled eye, and felt the stiffness 
 of death overspreading and paralyzing its slender limbs. 
 He dared not go into the cavern, but he felt his eyes 
 fill with tears, and he would willingly have spoken 
 some word of consolation to her. 
 
HOMO SUM. 205 
 
 At last she came out, her eyes red with weeping. 
 Paulus had guessed rightly for she held the body of 
 little Iambe in her arms. 
 
 "How sorry I am," said Paulus, "the poor little 
 creature was so pretty." 
 
 Sirona nodded, sat down, and unfastened the pret- 
 tily embroidered band from the dog's neck, saying hall 
 to herself, and half to Paulus, " My little Agnes worked 
 this collar. I myself had taught her to sew, and this 
 was the first piece of work that was all her own." She 
 held the collar up to the anchorite. "This clasp is of 
 real silver," she went on, "and my father himself gave 
 it to me. He was fond of the poor little dog too. 
 Now it will never leap and spring again, poor thing." 
 
 She looked sadly down at the dead dog. Then she 
 collected herself, and said hurriedly, "Now I will go 
 away from here. Nothing — nothing keeps me any 
 longer in this wilderness, for the senator's house, where 
 I have spent many happy hours, and where everyone 
 was fond of me, is closed against me, and must ever be 
 so long as he lives there. If you have not been kind 
 to me only to do me harm in the end, let me go to- 
 day, and help me to reach Alexandria." 
 
 "Not to-day, in any case not to-day," replied 
 Paulus. " First I must find out when a vessel sails for 
 Klysma or for Berenike, and then I have many other 
 things to see to for you. You owe me an answer to 
 my question, as to what you expect to do and to find 
 in Alexandria. Poor child — the younger and the fairer 
 you are — " 
 
 "I know all you would say to me," interrupted 
 Sirona. "Wherever I have been, I have attracted the 
 eyes of men, and when I have read in their looks that 
 
2o6 HOMO SUM. 
 
 I pleased them, it has greatly pleased me — why should 
 I deny it ? Many a one has spoken fair words to me 
 or given me flowers, and sent old women to my house 
 to win me for them, but even if one has happened to 
 please me better than another, still I have never found 
 it hard to send them home again as was fitting." 
 
 "Till Hermas laid his love at your feet," said Paulus. 
 " He is a bold lad— " 
 
 "A pretty, inexperienced boy," said Sirona, "neither 
 more nor less. It was a heedless thing, no doubt, to 
 admit him to my rooms, but no vestal need be ashamed 
 to own to such favor as I showed him. I am innocent, 
 and I will remain so that I may stand in my father's 
 presence without a blush when I have earned money 
 enough in the capital for the long journey." 
 
 Paulus looked in her face astonished and almost 
 horrified. 
 
 Then he had in fact taken on himself guilt which 
 did not exist, and perhaps the senator would have been 
 slower to condemn Sirona, if it had not been for his 
 falsely acknowledging it. He stood before her, feeling 
 like a child that would fain put together some object of 
 artistic workmanship, and who has broken it to pieces 
 for want of skill. At the same time he could not doubt 
 a word that she said, for the voice within him had long 
 since plainly told him that this woman was no common 
 criminal. 
 
 For some time he was at a loss for words ; at last 
 he said timidly : 
 
 " What do you purpose doing in Alexandria ? " 
 
 " Polykarp says, that all good work finds a purchaser 
 there," she answered. "And I can weave particularly 
 well, and embroider with gold-thread. Perhaps I may 
 
HOMO SUM. 207 
 
 find shelter under some roof where there are children, 
 and I would willingly attend to them during the day. 
 In my free time and at night I could work at my frame, 
 and when I have scraped enough together I shall soon 
 find a ship that will carry me to Gaul, to my own 
 people. Do you not see that I cannot go back to 
 Phcebicius, and can you help me ? " 
 
 " Most willingly, and better perhaps than you fancy," 
 said Paulus. "I cannot explain this to you just now; 
 but you need not request me, but may rather feel that 
 you have a good right to demand of me that I should 
 rescue you." 
 
 She looked at him in surprised enquiry, and he con- 
 tinued : < 
 
 " First let me carry away the little dog, and bury it 
 down there. I will put a stone over the grave, that 
 you may know where it lies. It must be so, the body 
 cannot lie here any longer. Take the thing, which lies 
 there. I had tried before to cut it out for you, for you 
 complained yesterday that your hair was all in a tangle 
 because you had not a comb, so I tried to carve you 
 one out of bone. There were none at the shop in the 
 oasis, and I am myself only a wild creature of the wil- 
 derness, a sorry, foolish animal, and do not use one. 
 Was that a stone that fell? Aye, certainly, I hear a 
 man's step; go quickly into the cave and do not stir till 
 I call you." 
 
 Sirona withdrew into her rock-dwelling, and Paulus 
 took the body of the dog in his arms to conceal it from 
 the man who was approaching. He looked round, un- 
 decided, and seeking a hiding-place for it, but two sharp 
 eyes had already detected him and his small burden 
 Drom the height above him; before he had found a suit- 
 
208 HOMO SUM. 
 
 able place, stones were rolling and crashing down from 
 the cliff to the right of the cavern, and at the same time 
 a man came springing down with rash boldness from 
 rock to rock, and without heeding the warning voice of 
 the anchorite, flung himself down the slope, straight in 
 front of him, exclaiming, while he struggled for breath 
 and his face was hot with hatred and excitement : 
 
 "That — I know it well — that is Sirona's greyhound 
 — where is its mistress ? Tell me this instant, where is 
 Sirona — I must and will know." 
 
 Paulus had frequently seen, from the penitent's room 
 in the church, the senator and his family in their places 
 near the altar, and he was much astonished to recognize 
 'in the daring leaper, who rushed upon him like a mad 
 man with dishevelled hair and fiery eyes, Polykarp, 
 Petrus' second son. 
 
 The anchorite found it difficult to preserve his calm, 
 and composed demeanor, for since he had been aware 
 that he had accused Sirona falsely of a heavy sin, while 
 at the same time he had equally falsely confessed him- 
 self the partner of her misdeed, he felt an anxiety that 
 amounted to anguish, and a leaden oppression checked 
 the rapidity of his thoughts. He at first stammered out 
 a few unintelligible words, but his opponent was in fear- 
 ful earnest with his question ; he seized the collar of the 
 anchorite's coarse garment with terrible violence, and 
 cried in a husky voice, "Where did you find the dog? 
 Where is—?" 
 
 But suddenly he left go his hold of the Alexandrian, 
 looked at him from head to foot, and said softly and 
 slowly : 
 
 " Can it be possible ? Are you Paulus, the Alexan- 
 drian ? " 
 
HOMO SUM. 
 
 >.og 
 
 The anchorite nodded assent. Polykarp laughed 
 loud and bitterly, pressed his hand to his forehead, and 
 exclaimed in a tone of the deepest disgust and con- 
 tempt : 
 
 " And is it so, indeed ! and such a repulsive ape too ! 
 But I will not believe that she even held out a hand to 
 you, for the mere sight of you makes me dirty." Paulus 
 felt his heart beating like a hammer within his breast, 
 and there was a singing and roaring in his ears. When 
 once more Polykarp threatened him with his fist he in- 
 voluntarily took the posture of an athlete in a wrestling 
 match, he stretched out his arms to try to get a good- 
 hold of his adversary, and said in a hollow, deep tone 
 of angry warning, " Stand back, or something will hap- 
 pen to you that will not be good for your bones." 
 
 The speaker was indeed Paulus — and yet — not Pau- 
 lus; it was Menander, the pride of the Palaestra, who 
 had never let pass a word of his comrades that did not 
 altogether please him. And yet yesterday in the oasis 
 he had quietly submitted to far worse insults than Poly- 
 karp had offered him, and had accepted them with con- 
 tented cheerfulness. Whence then to-day this wild 
 sensitiveness and eager desire to fight? 
 
 When, two days since, he had gone to his old cave 
 to fetch the last of his hidden gold pieces, he had wished 
 to greet old Stephanus, but the Egyptian.attendant had 
 scared him off like an evil spirit with angry curses, and 
 had thrown stones after him. In the oasis he had at- 
 tempted to enter the church in spite of the bishop's 
 prohibition, there to put up a prayer; for he thought 
 that the antechamber, where the spring was and in 
 which penitents were wont to tarry, would certainly not 
 be closed even to him; but the acolytes had driven him 
 
210 HOMO SUM. 
 
 away with abusive words, and the door-keeper, who a 
 short time since had trusted him with the key, spit in 
 his face, and yet he had not found it difficult to turn 
 his back on his persecutors without anger or complaint. 
 
 At the counter of the dealer of whom he had 
 bought the woollen coverlet, the little jug, and many 
 other things for Sirona, a priest had passed by, had 
 pointed to his money, and had said, " Satan takes care 
 of his own." 
 
 Paulus had answered him nothing, had returned to 
 his charge with an uplifted and grateful heart, and had 
 heartily rejoiced once more in the exalted and en- 
 couraging consciousness that he was enduring disgrace 
 and suffering for another in humble imitation of Christ. 
 What was it then that made him so acutely sensitive 
 with regard to Polykarp, and once more snapped those 
 threads, which long years of self-denial had twined into 
 fetters for his impatient spirit ? Was it that to the man, 
 who mortified his flesh in order to free his soul from its 
 bonds it seemed a lighter matter to be contemned as a 
 sinner, hated of God, than to let his person and his 
 manly dignity be treated with contempt? Was he 
 thinking of the fair listener in the cave, who was a wit- 
 ness to his humiliation? Had his wrath blazed up 
 because he saw in Polykarp, not so much an exasper- 
 ated fellow-believer, as merely a man who with bold 
 scorn had put himself in the path of another man ? 
 
 The lad and the gray-bearded athlete stood face to 
 face like mortal enemies ready for the fight, and Poly- 
 karp did not waver, although he, like most Christian 
 youths, had been forbidden to take part in the wrestling- 
 games in the Palaestra, and though he knew that he 
 had to deal with a strong and practised antagonist. 
 
HOMO SUM. 211 
 
 He himself was indeed no weakling, and his stormy- 
 indignation added to his desire to measure himself 
 against the hated seducer. 
 
 "Come on — come on!" he cried; his eyes flashing, 
 and leaning forward with his neck out-stretched and 
 ready on his part for the struggle. " Grip hold ! you 
 were a gladiator, or something of the kind, before you 
 put on that filthy dress that you might break into houses 
 at night, and go unpunished. Make this sacred spot 
 an arena, and if you succeed in making an end of me 
 I will thank you, for what made life worth having to 
 me, you have already ruined whether or no. Only- 
 come on. Or perhaps you think it easier to ruin the 
 life of a woman than to measure your strength against 
 her defender? Clutch hold, I say, clutch hold, or — " 
 
 "Or you will fall upon me," said Paulus, whose 
 arms had dropped by his side during the youth's ad- 
 dress. He spoke in a quite altered tone of indifference. 
 "Throw yourself upon me, and do with me what you 
 will; I will not prevent you. Here I shall stand, and 
 I will not fight, for you have so far hit the truth — this 
 holy place is not an arena. But the Gaulish lady be- 
 longs neither to you nor to me, and who gives you a 
 claim—?" 
 
 "Who gives me a right over her?" interrupted 
 Polykarp, stepping close up to his questioner with 
 sparkling eyes. "He who permits the worshipper to 
 speak of his God. Sirona is mine, as the sun and moon 
 and stars are mine, because they shed a beautiful light 
 on my murky path. My life is mine — and she was the 
 life of my life, and therefore I say boldly, and would 
 say, if there were twenty such as Phcebicius here, she 
 belongs to me. And because I regarded her as my 
 
212 HOMO SUM. 
 
 own, and so regard her still, I hate you and fling my 
 scorn in your teeth — you are like a hungry sheep that 
 has got into the gardener's flower-bed, and stolen from 
 the stem the wonderful, lovely flower that he has nur- 
 tured with care, and that only blooms once in a hun- 
 dred years — like a cat that has sneaked into some 
 marble hall, and that to satisfy its greed has strangled 
 some rare and splendid bird that a traveller has brought 
 from a distant land. But you! you hypocritical robber, 
 who disregard your own body with beastly pride, and 
 sacrifice it to low brutality — what should you know of 
 the magic charm of beauty — that daughter of heaven, 
 that can touch even thoughtless children, and before 
 which the gods themselves do homage! I have a right 
 to Sirona; for hide her where you will — or even if the 
 centurion were to find her, and to fetter her to himself 
 with chains and rivets of brass — still that which makes 
 her the noblest work of the Most High — the image of 
 her beauty — lives in bo one, in no one as it lives in me. 
 This hand has never even touched your victim — and yet 
 God has given Sirona to no man as he has given her 
 wholly to me, for to no man can she be what she is to 
 me, and no man can love her as I do ! She has the 
 nature of an angel, and the heart of a child; she is 
 without spot, and as pure as the diamond, or the swan's 
 breast, or the morning-dew in the bosom of a rose. 
 And though she had let you into her house a thousand 
 times, and though my father even, and my own mother, 
 and every one, every one pointed at her and condemn- 
 ed her, I would never cease to believe in her purity. It 
 is you who have brought her to shame; it is you — " 
 
 " I kept silence while all condemned her," said Pau- 
 lus with warmth, "for I believed that she was guilty, 
 
HOMO SUM. 213 
 
 just as you believe that I am, just as every one that is 
 bound by no ties of love is more ready to believe evil 
 than good. Now I know, aye, know for certain, that 
 we did the poor woman an injustice. If the splendor 
 of the lovely dream, that you call Sirona, has been 
 clouded by my fault — " 
 
 "Clouded? And by you?" laughed Polykarp. 
 "Can the toad that plunges into the sea, cloud its shin- 
 ing blue, can the black bat that flits across the night, 
 cloud the pure light of the full-moon ? " 
 
 An emotion of rage again shot through the anchor- 
 ite's heart, but he was by this time on his guard against 
 himself, and he only said bitterly, and with hardly-won 
 composure : 
 
 " And how was it then with the flower, and with the 
 bird, that were destroyed by beasts without understand- 
 ing? I fancy you meant no absent third person by that 
 beast, and yet now you declare that it is not within my 
 power even to throw a shadow over your day-star! 
 You see you contradict yourself in your anger, and the 
 son of a wise man, who himself has not long since left 
 the school of rhetoric, should try to avoid that. You 
 might regard me with less hostility, for I will not offend 
 you; nay, I will repay your evil words with good — per- 
 haps the very best indeed that you ever heard in your 
 life. Sirona is a worthy and innocent woman, and at 
 the time when Phcebicius came out to seek her, I had 
 never even set eyes upon her nor had my ears ever 
 heard a word pass her lips." 
 
 At these words Polykarp's threatening manner 
 changed, and feeling at once incapable of understand- 
 ing the matter, and anxious to believe, he eagerly ex- 
 claimed : 
 
214 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " But yet the sheepskin was yours, and you let your- 
 self be thrashed by Phcebicius without defending your- ' 
 self." 
 
 "So filthy an ape," said Paulus, imitating Polykarp's 
 voice, "needs many blows, and that day I could not 
 venture to defend myself because — because — But 
 that is no concern of yours. You must subdue your 
 curiosity for a few days longer, and then it may easily 
 happen that the man whose very aspect makes you feel 
 dirty — the bat, the toad — " 
 
 "Let that pass now," cried Polykarp. "Perhaps the 
 excitement which the sight of you stirred up in my 
 bruised and wounded heart, led me to use unseemly 
 language. Now, indeed, I see that your matted hair 
 sits round a well featured countenance. Forgive my 
 violent and unjust attack. I was beside myself, and I 
 opened my whole soul to you, and now that you know 
 how it is with me, once more I ask you, where is Si- 
 rona?" 
 
 Polykarp looked Paulus in the face with anxious 
 and urgent entreaty, pointing to the dog as much as to 
 say, "You must know, for here is the evidence." 
 
 The Alexandrian hesitated to answer; he glanced 
 by chance at the entrance of the cave, and seeing the 
 gleam of Sirona's white robe behind the palm-branches, 
 he said to himself that if Polykarp lingered much 
 longer, he could not fail to discover her — a consumma- 
 tion to be avoided. 
 
 There were many reasons which might have made 
 him resolve to stand in the way of a meeting between the 
 lady and the young man, but not one of them occurred 
 to him, and though he did not even dream that a feel- 
 ing akin to jealousy had begun to influence him, still he 
 
HOMO SUM. 215 
 
 was conscious that it was his lively repugnance to see- 
 ing the two sink into each other's arms before his very 
 eyes, that prompted him to turn shortly round, to take 
 up the body of the little dog, and to say to the en- 
 quirer: 
 
 "It is true, I do know where she is hiding, and 
 when the time comes you shall know it too. Now I 
 must bury the animal, and if you will you can help me." 
 
 Without waiting for any objection on Polykarp's 
 part, he hurried from stone to stone up to the plateau 
 on the precipitous edge of which he had first seen 
 Sirona. The younger man followed him breathlessly, 
 and only joined him when he had already begun to dig 
 out the earth with his hands at the foot of a cliff. 
 Polykarp was now standing close to the anchorite, and 
 repeated his question with vehement eagerness, but 
 Paulus did not look up from his work, and only said, 
 digging faster and faster: 
 
 " Come to this place again to-morrow, and then it 
 may perhaps be possible that I should tell you." 
 
 "You think to put me off with that," cried the lad. 
 " Then you are mistaken in me, and if you cheat me 
 with your honest-sounding words, I will — " 
 
 But he did not end his threat, for a clear longing cry 
 distinctly broke the silence of the deserted mountain: 
 
 "Polykarp — Polykarp." It sounded nearer and 
 nearer, and the words had a magic effect on him for 
 whose ear they were intended. 
 
 With his head erect and trembling in every limb, the 
 young man listened eagerly. Then he cried out, " It is 
 her voice! I am coming, Sirona, I am coming." And 
 without paying any heed to the anchorite, he was on 
 the point of hurrying off to meet her. But Paulus 
 
2l6 HOMO SUM. 
 
 placed himself close in front of him, and said sternly: 
 
 "You stay here." 
 
 " Out of my way," shouted Polykarp beside himself. 
 
 " She is calling to me out of the hole where you are 
 keeping her — you slanderer — you cowardly liar! Out 
 of the way I say ! You will not ? Then defend yourself, 
 you hideous toad, or I will tread you down, if my foot 
 does not fear to be soiled with your poison." 
 
 Up to this moment Paulus had stood before the 
 young man with out-spread arms, motionless, but im- 
 movable as an oak-tree; now Polykarp first hit him. 
 This blow shattered the anchorite's patience, and, no 
 longer master of himself, he exclaimed, " You shall an- 
 swer to me for this!" and before a third and fourth call 
 had come from Sirona's lips, he had grasped the artist's 
 slender body, and with a mighty swing he flung him 
 backwards over his own broad and powerful shoulders 
 on to the stony ground. 
 
 After this mad act he stood over his victim with 
 out-stretched legs, folded arms, and rolling eyes, as if 
 rooted to the earth. He waited till Polykarp had picked 
 himself up, and, without looking round, but pressing his 
 hands to the back of his head, had tottered away like a 
 drunken man. 
 
 Paulus looked after him till he dissappeared over the 
 cliff at the edge of the level ground; but he did not see 
 how Polykarp fell senseless to the ground with a stifled 
 cry, not far from the very spring whence his enemy 
 had fetched the water to refresh Sirona's parched lips. 
 
HOMO SUM. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "She will attract the attention of Daraianus or Sa- 
 lathiel or one of the others up there," thought Paulus as 
 he heard Sirona's call once more, and, following her 
 voice, he went hastily and excitedly down the moun- 
 tain-side. 
 
 "We shall have peace for to-day at any rate from 
 that audacious fellow," muttered he to himself, "and 
 perhaps to-morrow too, for his blue bruises will be a 
 greeting from me. But how difficult it is to forget 
 what we have once known! The grip, with which I 
 flung him, I learned — how long ago ? — from the chief- 
 gymnast at Delphi. My marrow is not yet quite dried 
 up, and that 1 will prove to the boy with these fists, if 
 he comes back with three or four of the same mettle." 
 
 But Paulus had not long to indulge in such wild 
 thoughts, for on the way to the cave he met Sirona. 
 
 " Where is Polykarp ? " she called out from afar. 
 
 " I have sent him home," he answered. 
 
 "And he obeyed you?" she asked again. 
 
 " I gave him striking reasons for doing so," he replied 
 quickly. 
 
 "But he will return?" 
 
 "He has learned enough up here for tb-day. We 
 have now to think of your journey to Alexandria." 
 
 " But it seems to me," replied Sirona, blushing, " that 
 I am safely hidden in your cave, and just now you your- 
 self said — " 
 
 "I warned you against the dangers of the expe- 
 
2l8 HOMO SUM. 
 
 dition," interrupted Paulus. " But since that it has oc- 
 curred to me that I know of a shelter, and of a safe pro- 
 tector for you. There, we are at home again. Now go 
 into the cave, for very probably some one may have 
 heard you calling, and if other anchorites were to dis- 
 cover you here, they would compel me to take you back 
 to your husband." 
 
 "I will go directly," sighed Sirona, "but first explain 
 to me — for I heard all that you said to each other — " 
 and she colored, "how it happened that Phcebicius 
 took Hermas' sheepskin for yours, and why you let 
 him beat you without giving any explanation." 
 
 " Because my back is even broader than that great 
 fellow's," replied the Alexandrian quickly. " I will tell 
 you all about it in some quiet hour, perhaps on our jour- 
 ney to Klysma. Now go into the cave, or you may 
 spoil everything. I know too what you lack most since 
 you heard the fair words of the senator's son." 
 
 "Well — what?" asked Sirona. 
 
 "A mirror!" laughed Paulus. 
 
 "How much you are mistaken!" said Sirona; and 
 she thought to herself — "The woman that Polykarp 
 looks at as he does at me, does not need a mirror." 
 
 An old Jewish merchant lived in the fishing-town on 
 the western declivity of the mountain; he shipped the 
 charcoal for Egypt,whichwas made in the valleys of the 
 peninsula by burning the sajal acacia, and he had for- 
 merly supplied fuel for the drying-room of the papyrus- 
 factory of Paulus' father. He now had a business con- 
 nection with his brother, and Paulus himself had had 
 dealings with him. He was prudent and wealthy, and 
 whenever he met the anchorite, he blamed him for his 
 flight from the world, and implored him to put his hos- 
 
HOMO SUM. 219 
 
 pitality to the test, and to command his resources and 
 means as if they were his own. 
 
 This man was now to find a boat, and to provide 
 the means of flight for Sirona. The longer Paulus 
 thought it over, the more indispensable it seemed to him 
 that he should himself accompany the Gaulish lady to 
 Alexandria, and in his own person find her a safe shelter. 
 He knew that he was free to dispose of his brother's 
 enormous fortune — half of which in fact was his — as 
 though it were all his own, and he began to rejoice in 
 his possessions for the first time for many years. Soon 
 he was occupied in thinking of the furnishing of the 
 house, which he intended to assign to the fair Sirona. 
 At first he thought of a simple citizen's dwelling, but 
 by degrees he began to picture the house intended for 
 her as fitted with shining gold, white and colored marble, 
 many-colored Syrian carpets, nay even with vain works 
 of the heathen, with statues, and a luxurious bath. 
 In increasing unrest he wandered from rock to rock, 
 and many times as he went up and down he paused in 
 front of the cave where Sirona was. Once he saw her 
 light robe, and its conspicuous gleam led him to the re- 
 flection, that it would be imprudent to conduct her to 
 the humble fishing-village in that dress. If he meant 
 to conceal her traces from the search of Phcebicius and 
 Polykarp, he must first provide her with a simple dress, 
 and a veil that should hide her shining hair and fair 
 face, which even in the capital could find no match. 
 
 The Amalekite, from whom he had twice bought 
 some goat's-milk for her, lived in a hut which Paulus 
 could easily reach. He still possessed a few drachmas, 
 and with these he could purchase what he needed from 
 the wife and daughter of the goatherd. Although the 
 
220 HOMO SUM. 
 
 sky was now covered with mist and a hot sweltering 
 south-wind had risen, he prepared to start at once. The 
 sun was no longer visible though its scorching heat 
 could be felt, but Paulus paid no heed to this sign of an 
 approaching storm. 
 
 Hastily, and with so little attention that he confused 
 one object with another in the little store-cellar, he laid 
 some bread, a knife, and some dates in front of the 
 entrance to the cave, called out to his guest that he 
 should soon return, and hurried at a rapid pace up the 
 mountain. 
 
 Sirona answered him with a gentle word of farewell, 
 and did not even look round after him, for she was glad 
 to be alone, and so soon as the sound of his step had 
 died away she gave herself up once more to the over- 
 whelming torrent of new and deep feelings which had 
 flooded her soul ever since she had heard Polykarp's 
 ardent hymn of love. 
 
 Paulus, in the last few hours, was Menander again, 
 but the lonely woman in the cavern — the cause of this 
 transformation — the wife of Phcebicius, had undergone 
 an even greater change than he. She was still Sirona, 
 and yet not Sirona. 
 
 When the anchorite had commanded her to retire 
 into the cave she had obeyed him willingly, nay, she 
 would have withdrawn even without his desire, and 
 have sought for soltitude; for she felt that something 
 mighty, hitherto unknown to her, and incomprehensible 
 even to herself, was passing in her soul, and that a 
 nameless but potent something had grown up in her 
 heart, had struggled free, and had found life and motion; 
 a something that was strange, and yet precious to her, 
 frightening, and yet sweet, a pain, and yet unspeakably 
 
HOMO SUM. 221 
 
 delightful. An emotion such as she had never before 
 known had mastered her, and she felt, since hearing 
 Polykarp's speech, as if a new and purer blood was 
 flowing rapidly through her veins. Every nerve quiv- 
 ered like the leaves of the poplars in her former home 
 when the wind blows down to meet the Rhone, and she 
 found it difficult to follow what Paulus said, and still 
 more so to find the right answer to his questions. 
 
 As soon as she was alone she sat down on her bed, 
 rested her elbows on her knees, and her head in her 
 hand, and the growing and surging flood of her passion 
 broke out in an abundant stream of warm tears. 
 
 She had never wept so before; no anguish, no bit- 
 terness was infused into the sweet refreshing dew of 
 those tears. Fair flowers of never dreamed of splen- 
 dor and beauty blossomed in the heart of the weeping 
 woman, and when at length her tears ceased, there was 
 a great silence, but also a great glory within her and 
 around her. She was like a man who has grown up in 
 an under-ground-room, where no light of day can ever 
 shine, and who at last is allowed to look at the blue 
 heavens, at the splendor of the sun, at the myriad 
 flowers and leaves in the green woods, and on the 
 meadows. 
 
 She was wretched, and yet a happy woman. 
 
 " That is love ! " were the words that her heart sang 
 in triumph, and as her memory looked back on the 
 admirers who had approached her in Arelas when she 
 was still little more than a child, and afterwards in 
 Rome, with tender words and looks, they all appeared 
 like phantom forms carrying feeble tapers, whose light 
 paled pitifully, for Polykarp had now come on the 
 scene, bearing the very sun itself in his hands. 
 
222 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " They — and he," she murmured to herself, and she 
 beheld as it were a balance, and on one of the scales 
 lay the homage which in her vain fancy she had so 
 coveted. It was of no more weight than chaff, and its 
 whole mass was like a heap of straw, which flew up as 
 soon as Polykarp laid his love — a hundredweight of 
 pure gold, in the other scale. 
 
 "And if all the nations and kings of the earth 
 brought their treasures together," thought she, "and 
 laid them at my feet, they could not make me as rich 
 as he has made me, and if all the stars were fused into 
 one, the vast globe of light which they would form 
 could not shine so brightly as the joy that fills my soul. 
 Come now what may, I will never complain after that 
 hour of delight." 
 
 Then she thought over each of her former meetings 
 with Polykarp, and remembered that he had never 
 spoken to her of love. What must it not have cost him 
 to control himself thus; and a great triumphant joy 
 filled her heart at the thought that she was pure, and 
 not unworthy of him, and an unutterable sense of grati- 
 tude rose up in her soul. The love she bore this man 
 seemed to take wings, and it spread itself over the 
 common life and aspect of the world, and rose to a 
 spirit of devotion. With a deep sigh she raised her 
 eyes and hands to heaven, and in her longing to prove 
 her love to every living being, nay to every created 
 thing, her spirit sought the mighty and beneficent 
 Power to whom she owed such exalted happiness. 
 
 In her youth her father had kept her very strictly, 
 but still he had allowed her to go through the streets of 
 the town with her young companions, wreathed with 
 flowers, and all dressed in their best, in the procession 
 
HOMO SUM. 223 
 
 of maidens at the feast of Venus of Arelas, to whom 
 all the women of her native town were wont to turn 
 with prayers and sacrifices when their hearts were 
 touched by love. 
 
 Now she tried to pray to Venus, but again and 
 again the wanton jests of the men who were used 
 to accompany the maidens came into her mind, and 
 memories of how she herself had eagerly listened for 
 the only too frequent cries of admiration, and had en- 
 ticed the silent with a glance, or thanked the more 
 clamorous with a smile. To-day certainly she had no 
 mind for such sport, and she recollected the stern words 
 which had fallen from Dorothea's lips on the worship of 
 Venus, when she had once told her how well the natives 
 of Arelas knew how to keep their feasts. 
 
 And Polykarp, whose heart was nevertheless so full 
 of love, he no doubt thought like his mother, and she 
 pictured him as she had frequently seen him following 
 his parents by the side of his sister Marthana — often 
 hand in hand with her — as they went to church. The 
 senator's son had always had a kindly glance for her, 
 excepting when he was one of this procession to the 
 temple of the God of whom they said that He was love 
 itself, and whose votaries indeed were not poor in love; 
 for in Petrus' house, if anywhere, all hearts were united 
 by a tender affection. It then occurred to her that 
 Paulus had just now advised her to turn to the crucified 
 God of the Christians, who was full of an equal and 
 divine love to all men. To him Polykarp also prayed — 
 was praying perhaps this very hour; and if she now did 
 the same her prayers would ascend together with his, 
 and so she might be in some sort one with that beloved 
 friend, from whom everything else conspired to part her. 
 
224 HOMO SUM. 
 
 She knelt down and folded her hands, as she had 
 so often seen Christians do, and she reflected on the 
 torments that the poor Man, who hung with pierced 
 hands on the cross, had so meekly endured, though He 
 suffered innocently; she felt the deepest pity for Him, 
 and softly said to herself, as she raised her eyes to the 
 low roof of her cave-dwelling : 
 
 " Thou poor good Son of God, Thou knowest what 
 it is when all men condemn us unjustly, and surely, 
 Thou canst understand when I say to Thee how sore 
 my poor heart is ! And they say too, that of all hearts 
 Thine is the most loving, and so thou wilt know how 
 it is that, in spite of all my misery, it still seems to me 
 that I am a happy woman. The very breath of a God 
 must be rapture, and that Thou too must have learned 
 when they tortured and mocked Thee, for Thou hast 
 suffered out of love. They say, that Thou wast wholly 
 pure and perfectly sinless. Now I — I have committed 
 many follies, but not a sin — a real sin — no, indeed, I 
 have not; and Thou must know it, for Thou art a God, 
 and knowest the past, and canst read hearts. And, in- 
 deed, I also would fain remain innocent, and yet how 
 can that be when I cannot help being devoted to Poly- 
 karp, and yet I am another man's wife. But am I in- 
 deed the true and lawful wife of that horrible wretch 
 who sold me to another? He is as far from my heart 
 — as far as if I had never seen him with these eyes. 
 And yet — believe me — I wish him no ill, and I will be 
 quite content, if only I need never go back to him. 
 
 " When I was a child, I was afraid of frogs; my 
 brothers and sisters knew it, and once my brother Licin- 
 ius laid a large one, that he had caught, on my bare 
 neck. I started, and shuddered, and screamed out 
 
HOMO SUM. 225 
 
 loud, for it was so hideously cold and damp — I cannot 
 express it. And that is exactly how I have always felt 
 since those days in Rome whenever Phoebicius touched 
 me, and yet I dared not scream when he did. 
 
 " But Polykarp ! oh ! would that he were here, and 
 might only grasp my hand. He said I was his own, 
 and yet I have never encouraged him. But now ! if a 
 danger threatened him or a sorrow, and if by any means 
 I could save him from it, indeed — indeed — though I 
 never could bear pain well, and am afraid of death, I 
 would let them nail me to a cross for him, as Thou wast 
 crucified for us all. 
 
 " But then he must know that I had died for him, 
 and if he looked into my dying eyes with his strange, 
 deep gaze, I would tell him that it is to him that I owe 
 a love so great that it is a thing altogether different and 
 higher than any love I have ever before seen. And a 
 feeling that is so far above all measure of what ordinary 
 mortals experience, it seems to me, must be divine. 
 Can such love be wrong? I know not; but Thou 
 knowest, and Thou, whom they name the Good Shep- 
 herd, lead Thou us — each apart from the other, if it be 
 best so for him — but yet, if it be possible, unite us once 
 more, if it be only for one single hour. If only he 
 could know that I am not wicked, and that poor Sirona 
 would willingly belong to him, and to no other, then I 
 would be ready to die. O Thou good, kind Shepherd, 
 take me too into Thy flock, and guide me." 
 
 Thus prayed Sirona, and before her fancy there 
 floated the image of a lovely and loving youthful form; 
 she had seen the original in the model for Polykarp's 
 noble work, and she had not forgotten the exquisite 
 details of the face. It seemed to her as well known 
 
2 26 HOMO SUM. 
 
 and familiar as if she had known — what in fact she 
 could not even guess — that she herself had had some 
 share in the success of the work. 
 
 The love which unites two hearts is like the ocean 
 of Homer which encircles both halves of the earth. It 
 flows and rolls on. Where shall we seek its source — 
 here or there — who can tell ? 
 
 It was Dame Dorothea who in her motherly pride 
 had led the Gaulish lady into her son's workshop. 
 Sirona thought of her and her husband and her 
 house, where over the door a motto was carved in 
 the stone which she had seen every morning from 
 her sleeping-room. She could not read Greek, but 
 Polykarp's sister, Marthana, had more than once told 
 her what it meant. " Commit thy way to the Lord, 
 and put thy trust in Him," ran the inscription, and 
 she repeated it to herself again and again, and then 
 drew fancy-pictures of the future in smiling day-dreams, 
 which by degrees assumed sharper outlines and brighter 
 colors. 
 
 She saw herself united to Polykarp, and as the 
 daughter of Petrus and Dorothea, at home in the sena- 
 tor's house; she had a right now to the children who 
 loved her, and who were so dear to her; she helped the 
 deaconess in all her labors, and won praise, and looks 
 of approval. She had learned to use her hands in her 
 father's house and now she could show what she could 
 do; Polykarp even gazed at her with surprise and ad- 
 miration, and said that she was as clever as she was 
 beautiful, and promised to become a second Dorothea. 
 She went with him into his workshop, and there ar- 
 ranged all the things that lay about in confusion, and 
 dusted it, while he followed her every movement with 
 
HOMO SUM. 227 
 
 his gaze, and at last stood before her, his arms wide — 
 wide open to clasp her. 
 
 She started, and pressed her hands over her eyes, 
 and flung herself loving and beloved on his breast, and 
 would have thrown her arms round his neck, while hex 
 hot tears flowed — but the sweet vision was suddenly 
 shattered, for a swift flash of light pierced the gloom of 
 the cavern, and immediately after she heard the heavy 
 roll of the thunder-clap, dulled by the rocky walls of 
 her dwelling. 
 
 Completely recalled to actuality she listened for a 
 moment, and then stepped to the entrance of the cave. 
 It was already dusk, and heavy rain-drops were falling 
 from the dark clouds which seemed to shroud the moun- 
 tain peaks in a vast veil of black crape. Paulus was 
 nowhere to be seen, but there stood the food he had 
 prepared for her. She had eaten nothing since her 
 breakfast, and she now tried to drink the milk, but it 
 had curdled and was not fit to use; a small bit of 
 bread and a few dates quite satisfied her. 
 
 As the lightning and thunder began to follow each 
 other more and more quickly, and the darkness fast 
 grew deeper, a great fear fell upon her; she pushed the 
 food on one side, and looked up to the mountain where 
 the peaks were now wholly veiled in night, now seemed 
 afloat in a sea of flame, and more distinctly visible than 
 by daylight. Again and again a forked flash like a 
 saw-blade of fire cut through the black curtain of cloud 
 with terrific swiftness, again and again the thunder 
 sounded like a blast of trumpets through the silent 
 wilderness, and multiplied itself, clattering, growling, 
 roaring, and echoing from rock to rock. Light and 
 sound at last seemed to be hurled from Heaven to- 
 
228 HOMO SUM. 
 
 gether, and the very rock in which her cave was formed 
 quaked. 
 
 Crushed and trembling she drew back into the in- 
 most depth of her rocky chamber, starting at each flash 
 that illumined the darkness. 
 
 At length they occurred at longer intervals, the 
 thunder lost its appalling fury, and as the wind drove 
 the storm farther and farther to the southwards, at last 
 it wholly died away. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 It was quite dark in Sirona's cavern, fearfully dark, 
 and the blacker grew the night which shrouded her, 
 the more her terror increased. From time to time she 
 shut her eyes as tightly as she could, for she fancied 
 she could see a crimson glare, and she longed for light 
 in that hour as a drowning man longs for the shore. 
 Dark forebodings of every kind oppressed her soul. 
 
 What if Paulus had abandoned her, and had left 
 her to her fate? Or if Polykarp should have been 
 searching for her on the mountain in this storm, and in 
 the darkness should have fallen into some abyss, or 
 have been struck by the lightning ? Suppose the mass 
 of rock that overhung the entrance to the cave should 
 have been loosened in the storm, and should fall, and 
 bar her exit to the open air? Then she would be 
 buried alive, and she must perish alone, without seeing 
 him whom she loved once more, or telling him that she 
 had not been unworthy of his trust in her. 
 
 Cruelly tormented by such thoughts as these, she 
 
HOMO SUM. 229 
 
 dragged herself up and felt her way out into the air 
 and wind, for she could no longer hold out in the 
 gloomy solitude and fearful darkness. She had hardly 
 reached the mouth of the cave, when she heard steps 
 approaching her lurking place, and again she shrank 
 back. Who was it that could venture in this pitch-dark 
 night to climb from rock to rock ? Was it Paulus re- 
 turning ? Was it he — was it Polykarp seeking her ? 
 
 She felt intoxicated; she pressed her hands to her 
 heart, and longed to cry out, but she dared not, and 
 her tongue refused its office. She listened with the 
 tension of terror to the sound of the steps which came 
 straight towards her nearer and nearer, then the wan- 
 derer perceived the faint gleam of her white dress, and 
 called out to her. It was Paulus. 
 
 She drew a deep breath of relief when she recog- 
 nized his voice, and answered his call. 
 
 "In such weather as this," said the anchorite, "it is 
 better to be within than without, it seems to me, for it 
 is not particularly pleasant out here, so far as I have 
 found." 
 
 " But it has been frightful here inside the cave too," 
 Sirona answered, " I have been so dreadfully frightened, 
 I was so lonely in the horrible darkness. If only I had 
 had my little dog with me, it would at least have been 
 a living being." 
 
 "I have made haste as well as I could," interrupted 
 Paulus. "The paths are not so smooth here as the 
 Kanopic road in Alexandria, and as I have not three 
 necks like Cerberus, who lies at the feet of Serapis, it 
 would have been wiser of me to return to you a little 
 more leisurely. The storm-bird has swallowed up all 
 the stars as if they were flies, and the poor old moun- 
 
230 HOMO SUM. 
 
 tain is so grieved at it, that streams of tears are every- 
 where flowing over his stony cheeks. It is wet even 
 here. Now go back into the cave, and let me lay this 
 that I have got here for you in my arms, in the dry 
 passage. I bring you good news; to-morrow evening, 
 when it is growing dusk, we start. I have found out 
 a vessel which will convey us to Klysma, and from 
 thence I myself will conduct you to Alexandria. In the 
 sheepskin here you will find the dress and veil of an 
 Amalekite woman, and if your traces are to be kept 
 hidden from Phcebicius, you must accommodate yourself 
 to this disguise; for if the people down there were to see 
 you as I saw you to-day, they would think that Aphro- 
 dite herself had risen from the sea, and the report of the 
 fair-haired beauty that had appeared among them 
 would soon spread even to the oasis." 
 
 "But it seems to me that I am well hidden here," 
 replied Sirona. "I am afraid of a sea-voyage, and 
 even if we succeeded in reaching Alexandria without 
 impediment, still I do not know — " 
 
 "It shall be my business to provide for you there." 
 Paulus interrupted with a decision that was almost 
 boastful, and that somewhat disturbed Sirona. "You 
 know the fable of the ass in the lion's skin, but there 
 are lions who wear the skin of an ass on their 
 shoulders — or of a sheep, it comes to the same thing. 
 Yesterday you were speaking of the splendid palaces of 
 the citizens, and lauding the happiness of their owners. 
 You shall dwell in one of those marble houses, and rule 
 it as its mistress, and it shall be my care to procure 
 you slaves, and litter-bearers, and a carriage with four 
 mules. Do not doubt my word, for I am promising 
 nothing that I cannot perform. The rain is ceasing, 
 
HOMO SUM. 231 
 
 and I will try to light a fire. You want nothing more 
 to eat? Well then, I will wish you good-night. The 
 rest will all do to-morrow." 
 
 Sirona had listened in astonishment to the ancho- 
 rite's promises. 
 
 How often had she envied those who possessed all 
 that her strange protector now promised her — and now 
 it had not the smallest charm for her; and, fully deter- 
 mined in any case not to follow Paulus, whom she 
 began to distrust, she replied, as she coldly returned 
 his greeting, "There are many hours yet before to-mor- 
 row evening in which we can discuss everything." 
 
 While Paulus was with great difficulty rekindling 
 the fire, she was once more alone, and again she began 
 to be alarmed in the dark cavern. 
 
 She called the Alexandrian. "The darkness terrifies 
 me so," she said. "You still had some oil in the jug 
 this morning; perhaps you may be able to contrive a 
 little lamp for me; it is so fearful to stay here in the 
 dark." 
 
 Paulus at once took a shard, tore a strip from his 
 tattered coat, twisted it together, and laid it for a wick 
 in the greasy fluid, lighted it at the slowly reviving fire, 
 and putting this more than simple light in Sirona's 
 hand, he said, " It will serve its purpose; In Alexandria 
 I will see that you have lamps which give more light, 
 and which are made by a better artist." 
 
 Sirona placed the lamp in a hollow in the rocky 
 wall at the head of her bed, and then lay down to rest. 
 
 Light scares away wild beasts and fear too from 
 the resting-place of man, and it kept terrifying thoughts 
 far away from the Gaulish woman. 
 
 She contemplated her situation clearly and calmly, 
 
232 HOMO SUM. 
 
 and quite decided that she would neither quit the cave, 
 nor entrust herself to the anchorite, till she had once 
 more seen and spoken to Polykarp. He no doubt 
 knew where to seek her, and certainly, she thought, he 
 would by this time have returned, if the storm and the 
 starless night had not rendered it an impossibility to 
 come up the mountain from the oasis. 
 
 " To-morrow I shall see him again, and then I will 
 open my heart to him, and he shall read my soul like 
 a book, and on every page, and in every line he will 
 find his own name. And I will tell him too that I have 
 prayed to his ' Good Shepherd,' and how much good it 
 has done me, and that I will be a Christian like his 
 sister Marthana and his mother. Dorothea will be glad 
 indeed when she hears it, and she at any rate cannot 
 have thought that I was wicked, for she always loved 
 me, and the children — the children — " 
 
 The bright crowd of merry faces came smiling in 
 upon her fancy, and her thoughts passed insensibly into 
 dreams; kindly sleep touched her heart with its gentle 
 hand, and its breath swept every shadow of trouble 
 from her soul. She slept, smiling and. untroubled as a 
 child whose eyes some guardian angel softly kisses, 
 while her strange protector now turned the flickering 
 wood on the damp hearth and with a reddening face 
 blew up the dying charcoal-fire, and again walked rest- 
 lessly up and down, and paused each time he passed 
 the entrance to the cave, to throw a longing glance at 
 the light which shone out from Sirona's sleeping-room. 
 
 Since the moment when he had flung Polykarp to 
 the ground, Paulus had not succeeded in recovering his 
 self-command; not for a moment had he regretted the 
 deed, for the reflection had never occurred to him, that 
 
HOMO SUM. 233 
 
 a fall on the stony soil of the Sacred Mountain, which 
 was as hard as iron, must hurt more than a fall on the 
 sand of the arena. 
 
 "The impudent fellow," thought he, "richly de- 
 served what he got. Who gave him a better right over 
 Sirona than he, Paulus himself, had— he who had saved 
 her life, and had taken it upon himself to protect her?" 
 
 Her great beauty had charmed him from the first 
 moment of their meeting, but no impure thought stirred 
 his heart as he gazed at her with delight, and listened 
 with emotion to her childlike talk. It was the hot 
 torrent of Polykarp's words that had first thrown the 
 spark into his soul, which jealousy and the dread of 
 having to abandon Sirona to another, had soon fanned 
 into a consuming flame. He would not give up this 
 woman, he would continue to care for her every need, 
 she should owe everything to him, and to him only. 
 And so, without reserve, he devoted himself body and 
 soul to the preparations for her flight. The hot breath 
 of the storm, the thunder and lightning, torrents of rain, 
 and blackness of night could not delay him, while he 
 leaped from rock to rock, feeling his way — soaked 
 through, weary and in peril; he thought only of her, 
 and of how he could most safely carry her to Alexandria, 
 and then surround her with all that could charm a 
 woman's taste. Nothing — nothing did he desire for 
 himself, and all that he dreamed of and planned turned 
 only and exclusively on the pleasure which he might 
 afford her. When he had prepared and lighted the 
 lamp for her he saw her again, and was startled at the 
 beauty of the face that the trembling flame revealed. 
 He could observe her a few seconds only, and then she 
 had vanished, and he must remain alone in the dark- 
 
234 HOMO SUM. 
 
 ness and the rain. He walked restlessly up and down,, 
 and an agonizing longing once more to see her face 
 lighted up by the pale flame, and the white arm that 
 she had held out to take the lamp, grew more and 
 more strong in him and accelerated the pulses of his 
 throbbing heart. As often as he passed the cave, and 
 observed the glimmer of light that came from her room, 
 he felt prompted and urged to slip in, and to gaze on 
 her once more. He never once thought of prayer and 
 scourging, his old means of grace, he sought rather for 
 a reason that might serve him as an excuse if he went 
 in, and it struck him that it was cold, and that a sheep- 
 skin was lying in the cavern. He would fetch it, in 
 spite of his vow never to wear a sheepskin again; 
 and supposing he were thus enabled to see her, what 
 next? 
 
 When he had stepped across the threshold, an in- 
 ward voice warned him to return, and told him that he 
 must be treading the path of unrighteousness, for that 
 he was stealing in on tiptoe like a thief; but the excuse 
 was ready at once. "That is for fear of waking her, if 
 she is asleep." 
 
 And now all further reflection was silenced for he 
 had already reached the spot where, at the end of the 
 rocky passage, the cave widened into her sleeping- 
 room ; there she lay on her hard couch, sunk in slumber 
 and enchantingly fair. 
 
 A deep gloom reigned around, and the feeble light 
 of the little lamp lighted up only a small portion of the 
 dismal chamber but the head, throat, and arms that 
 it illuminated seemed to shine with a light of their own 
 that enhanced and consecrated the light of the feeble 
 flame. Paulus fell breathless on his knees, and fixed 
 
HOMO SUM. 235 
 
 his eyes with growing eagerness on the graceful form of 
 the sleeper. 
 
 Sirona was dreaming; her head, veiled in her golden 
 hair, rested on a high pillow of herbs, and her delicately 
 rosy face was turned up to the vault of the cave; her 
 half-closed lips moved gently, and now she moved her 
 bent arm and her white hand, on which the light of the 
 lamp fell, and which rested half on her forehead and 
 half on her shining hair. 
 
 " Is she saying anything ? " asked Paulus of himself, 
 and he pressed his brow against a projection of the 
 rock as tightly as if he would stem the rapid rush of 
 his blood that it might not overwhelm his bewildered 
 brain. 
 
 'Again she moved her lips. Had she indeed 
 spoken? Had she perhaps called him? 
 
 That could not be, for she still slept ; but he wished 
 to believe it — and he would believe it, and he stole 
 nearer to her and nearer, and bent over her, and listen- 
 ed — while his own strength failed him even to draw a 
 breath — listened to the soft regular breathing that heav- 
 ed her bosom. No longer master of himself he touched 
 her white arm with his bearded lips and she drew it 
 back in her sleep, then his gaze fell on her parted lips 
 and the pearly teeth that shone between them, and a 
 mad longing to kiss them came irresistibly over him. 
 He bent trembling over her, and was on the point of 
 gratifying his impulse when, as if startled by a sudden 
 apparition, he drew back, and raised his eyes from the 
 rosy lips to the hand that rested on the sleeper's brow. 
 
 The lamplight played on a golden ring on Sirona's 
 finger, and shone brightly on an onyx on which was 
 engraved an image of Tyche, the tutelary goddess of* 
 
2$6 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Antioch, with a sphere upon her head, and bearing 
 Amalthea's horn in her hand. 
 
 A new and strange emotion took possession of the 
 anchorite at the sight of this stone. With trembling 
 hands he felt in the breast of his torn garment, and 
 presently drew forth a small iron crucifix and the ring 
 that he had taken from the cold hand of Hermas' 
 mother. In the golden circlet was set an onyx, on 
 which precisely the same device was visible as that on 
 Sirona's hand. The string with its precious jewel fell 
 from his grasp, he clutched his matted hair with both 
 hands, groaned deeply, and repeated again and again, 
 as though to crave forgiveness, the name of " Mag- 
 dalen." 
 
 Then he called Sirona in a loud voice, and as she 
 awoke excessively startled, he asked her in urgent tones : 
 
 " Who gave you that ring ? " 
 
 " It was a present from Phcebicius," replied she. 
 " He said he had had it given to him many years since 
 in Antioch, and that it had been engraved by a great 
 artist. But I do not want it any more, and if you like 
 to have it you may." 
 
 " Throw it away ! " exclaimed Paulus, " it will bring 
 you nothing but misfortune." Then he collected him- 
 self, went out into the air with his head sunk on his 
 breast, and there, throwing himself down on the wet 
 stones by the hearth, he cried out: 
 
 " Magdalen ! dearest and purest ! You, when you 
 ceased to be Glycera, became a saintly martyr, and 
 found the road to heaven; I too had my day of 
 Damascus — of revelation and conversion — and I dared 
 to call myself by the name of Paulus — and now — 
 now?" 
 
HOMO SUM. 237 
 
 Plunged in despair he beat his forehead, groaning 
 out, " All, all in vain ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Common natures can only be lightly touched by the 
 immeasurable depth of anguish that is experienced by a 
 soul that despairs of itself; but the more heavily the 
 blow of such suffering falls, the more surely does it 
 work with purifying power on him who has to taste of 
 that cup. 
 
 Paulus thought no more of the fair, sleeping 
 woman ; tortured by acute remorse he lay on the hard 
 stones, feeling that he had striven in vain. When he 
 had taken Hermas' sin and punishment and disgrace 
 upon himself, it had seemed to him that he was treading 
 in the very footsteps of the Saviour. And now ? — He 
 felt like one who, while running for a prize, stumbles 
 over a stone and grovels in the sand when he is already 
 close to the goal. 
 
 " God sees the will and not the deed," he muttered 
 to himself. " What I did wrong with regard to Sirona 
 — or what I did not do — that matters not. When I 
 leaned over her, I had fallen utterly and entirely into 
 the power of the evil one, and was an ally of the 
 deadliest enemy of Him to whom I had dedicated my 
 life and soul. Of what avail was my flight from the 
 world, and my useless sojourn in the desert ? He who 
 always keeps out of the way of the battle can easily 
 boast of being unconquered to the end — but is he 
 therefore a hero ? The palm belongs to him who in the 
 
238 HOMO SUM. 
 
 midst of the struggles and affairs of trie world clings to 
 the heavenward road, and never lets himself be divert- 
 ed from it; but as for me who walk here alone, a 
 woman and a boy cross my path, and one threatens 
 and the other beckons to me, and I forget my aim and 
 stumble into the bog of iniquity. And so I cannot find 
 — no, here I cannot find what I strive after. But how 
 then — how ? Enlighten me, O Lord, and reveal to me 
 what I must do." 
 
 Thus thinking he rose, knelt down, and prayed 
 fervently ; when at last he came to the 'Amen,' his head 
 was burning, and his tongue parched. 
 
 The clouds had parted, though they still hung in 
 black masses in the west; from time to time gleams of 
 lightning shone luridly on the horizon and lighted up 
 the jagged peak of mountain with a flare; the moon 
 had risen, but its waning disk was frequently obscured 
 by dark driving masses of cloud; blinding flashes, ten- 
 der light, and utter darkness were alternating with 
 bewildering rapidity, when Paulus at last collected him- 
 self, and went down to the spring to drink, and to cool 
 his brow in the fresh water. Striding from stone to 
 stone he told himself, that ere he could begin a new 
 life, he must do penance — some heavy penance; but 
 what was it to be ? He was standing at the very margin 
 of the brook, hemmed in by cliffs, and was bending 
 down to it, but before he had moistened his lips he 
 drew back: just because he was so thirsty he resolved 
 to deny himself drink. Hastily, almost vehemently, he 
 turned his back on the spring, and after this little 
 victory over himself, his storm-tossed heart seemed a 
 little calmer. Far, far from hence and from the wilder- 
 ness and from the Sacred Mountain he felt impelled to 
 
HOMO SUM. 239 
 
 fly, and he would gladly have fled then and there to a 
 distance. Whither should he flee ? It was all the same, 
 for he was in search of suffering, and suffering, like 
 weeds, grows on every road. And from whom? This 
 question repeated itself again and again as if he had 
 shouted it in the very home of echo, and the answer 
 was not hard to find: "It is from yourself that you 
 would flee. It is your own inmost self that is your 
 enemy; bury yourself in what desert you will, it will 
 pursue you, and it would be easier for you to cut off 
 your shadow than to leave that behind ?" 
 
 His whole consciousness was absorbed by this sense 
 of impotency, and now, after the stormy excitement 
 of the last few hours, the deepest depression took pos- 
 session of his mind. Exhausted, unstrung, full of loath- 
 ing of himself and life, he sank down on a stone, and 
 thought over the occurrences of the last few days with 
 perfect impartiality. 
 
 " Of all the fools that ever I met," thought he, " I 
 have gone farthest in folly, and have thereby led things 
 into a state of confusion which I myself could not 
 make straight again, even if I were a sage — which I 
 certainly never shall be any more than a tortoise or a 
 phoenix. I once heard tell of a hermit who, because it 
 is written that we ought to bury the dead, and because 
 he had no corpse, slew a traveller that he might fulfil 
 the commandment: I have acted in exactly the same 
 way, for, in order to spare another man suffering and 
 to bear the sins of another, I have plunged an innocent 
 woman into misery, and made myself indeed a sinner. 
 As soon as it is light I will go down to the oasis and 
 confess to Petrus and Dorothea what I have done. 
 They will punish me, and I will honestly help them, so 
 
240 HOMO SUM. 
 
 that nothing of the penance that they may lay upon me 
 may be remitted. The less mercy I show to myself, 
 the more will the Eternal Judge show to me." 
 
 He rose, considered the position of the stars, and 
 when he perceived that morning was not far off, he 
 prepared to return to Sirona, who was no longer any 
 more to him than an unhappy woman to whom he 
 owed reparation for much evil, when a loud cry of dis- 
 tress in the immediate vicinity fell on his ear. 
 
 He mechanically stooped to pick up a stone for a 
 weapon, and listened. He knew every rock in the 
 neighborhood of the spring, and when the strange 
 groan again made itself heard, he knew that it came 
 from a spot which he knew well and where he had 
 often rested, because a large flat stone supported by a 
 stout pillar of granite, stood up far above the surround- 
 ing rocks, and afforded protection from the sun, even at 
 noonday, when not a hand's breath of shade was to be 
 found elsewhere. 
 
 Perhaps some wounded beast had crept under the 
 rock for shelter from the rain. Paulus went cautiously 
 forward. The groaning sounded louder and more dis- 
 tinct than before, and beyond a doubt it was the voice 
 of a human being. 
 
 The anchorite hastily threw away, the stone, fell 
 upon his knees, and soon found on the dry spot of 
 ground under the stone, and in the farthermost nook of 
 the retreat, a motionless human form. 
 
 " It is most likely a herdsman that has been struck 
 by lightning," thought he, as he felt with his hands the 
 curly head of the sufferer, and the strong arms that now 
 hung down powerless. As he raised the injured man, 
 who still uttered low moans, and supported his head on 
 
HOMO SUM. 241 
 
 his broad breast, the sweet perfume of fine ointment 
 was wafted to him from his hair, and a fearful suspicion 
 dawned upon his mind. 
 
 "Polykarp!" he cried, while he clasped his hands 
 more tightly round the body of the sufferer who, thus 
 called upon, moved and muttered a few unintelligible 
 words; in a low tone, but still much too clearly for 
 Paulus, for he now knew for certain that he had guessed 
 rightly. With a loud cry of horror he grasped the 
 youth's powerless form, raised him in his arms, and 
 carried him like a child to the margin of the spring 
 where he laid his noble burden down in the moist 
 grass; Polykarp started and opened his eyes. 
 
 Morning was already dawning, the light clouds on 
 the eastern horizon were already edged with rosy 
 fringes, and the coming day began to lift the dark veil 
 from the forms and hues of creation. 
 
 The young man recognized the anchorite, who with 
 trembling hands was washing the wound at the back of 
 his head, and his eye assumed an angry glare as he 
 called up all his remaining strength and pushed his 
 attendant from him. Paulus did not withdraw, he ac- 
 cepted the blow from his victim as a gift or a greeting, 
 thinking, "Aye, and I only wish you had a dagger in 
 your hand; I would not resist you." 
 
 The artist's wound was frightfully wide and deep, 
 but the blood had flowed among his thick curls, and 
 had clotted over the lacerated veins like a thick dress- 
 ing. The water with which Paulus now washed his 
 head reopened them, and renewed the bleeding, and 
 after the one powerful effort with which Polykarp 
 pushed away his enemy, he fell back senseless in his 
 arms The wan morning-light added to the pallor of 
 
242 HOMO SUM. 
 
 the bloodless countenance that lay with glazed eyes in 
 the anchorite's lap. 
 
 "He is dying!" murmured Paulus in deadly anguish 
 and with choking breath, while he looked across the 
 valley and up to the heights, seeking help. The moun- 
 tain rose in front of him, its majestic mass glowing in 
 the rosy dawn, while light translucent vapor floated 
 round the peak where the Lord had written His laws 
 for His chosen people, and for all peoples, on tables of 
 stone; it seemed to Paulus that he saw the giant form 
 of Moses far, far up on its sublimest height and that 
 from his lips in brazen tones the strictest of all the 
 commandments was thundered down upon him with 
 awful wrath, "Thou shalt not kill!" 
 
 Paulus clasped his hands before his face in silent 
 despair, while his victim still lay in his lap. He had 
 closed his eyes, for he dared not look on the youth's 
 pale countenance, and still less dared he look up at the 
 mountain; but the brazen voice from the height did 
 not cease, and sounded louder and louder; half beside 
 himself with excitement, in his inward ear he heard it 
 still, "Thou shalt not kill!" and then again, "Thou 
 shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife!" a third time, 
 "Thou shalt not commit adultery!" and at last a fourth, 
 "Thou shalt have none other gods but me!" 
 
 He that sins against one of those laws is damned; 
 and he — he had broken them all, broken them while 
 striving to tread the thorny path to a life of blessedness. 
 
 Suddenly and- wildly he threw his arms up to 
 heaven, and sighing deeply, gazed up at the sacred 
 hill. 
 
 What was that? On the topmost peak of Sinai 
 whence the Pharanite sentinels were accustomed to 
 
HOMO SUM. 243 
 
 watch the distance, a handkerchief was waving as a 
 signal that the enemy were approaching. 
 
 He could not be mistaken, and as in the face of 
 approaching danger he collected himself and recovered 
 his powers of thought and deliberation, his ear distinctly 
 caught the mighty floods of stirring sound that came 
 over the mountain, from the brazen cymbals struck by 
 the watchmen to warn the inhabitants of the oasis, and 
 the anchorites. 
 
 Was Hermas returned? Had the Blemmyes out- 
 stripped him ? From what quarter were the marauding 
 hosts coming on ? Could he venture to remain here 
 near his victim, or was it his duty to use his powerful 
 arms in defence of his helpless companions ? In ago- 
 nized doubt he looked down at the youth's pallid 
 features, and deep, sorrowful compassion filled his 
 mind. 
 
 How promising was this young tree of humanity 
 that his rough fist had broken off! and these brown 
 curls had only yesterday been stroked by a mother's 
 hand. His eyes filled with tears, and he bent as ten- 
 derly as a father might over the pale face, and pressed 
 -a gentle kiss on the bloodless lips of the senseless 
 youth. A thrill of joy shot through him, for Polykarp's 
 lips were indeed not cold, he moved his hand, and 
 now — the Lord be praised! he actually opened his 
 eyes. 
 
 "And I am not a murderer!" A thousand voices 
 seem to sing with joy in his heart, and then he thought 
 to himself, " First I will carry him down to his parents 
 in the oasis, and then go up to the brethren." 
 
 But the brazen signals rang out with renewed power, 
 and the stillness of the holy wilderness was broken 
 
244 HOMO SUM. 
 
 here by the clatter of men's voices, there by a blast of 
 trumpets, and there again by stifled cries. It was as if 
 a charm had given life to the rocks and lent them 
 voices; as if noise and clamor were rushing like wild 
 torrents down every gorge and cleft of the mountain- 
 side. 
 
 "It is too late," sighed the anchorite. "If I only 
 could — if I only knew — " 
 
 " Hallo! hallo! holy Paulus!" a shrill woman's voice 
 which seemed to come from high up in the air rang out 
 joyful and triumphant, interrupting the irresolute man's 
 meditations, "Hermas is alive! Hermas is here again! 
 Only look up at the heights. There flies the standard, 
 for he has warned the sentinels. The Blemmyes are 
 coming on, and he sent me to seek you. You must 
 come to the strong tower on the western side of the 
 ravine. Make haste! come at once! Do you hear? 
 He told me to tell you. But the man in your lap — it 
 is — yes, it is — " 
 
 "It is your master's son Polykarp," Paulus called 
 back to her. "He is hurt unto death; hurry down to 
 the oasis, and tell the senator, tell Dame Dorothea — " 
 
 " I have something else to do now," interrupted the 
 shepherdess. " Hermas has sent me to warn Gelasius, 
 Psoes, and Dulas, and if I went down into the oasis 
 they would lock me up, and not let me come up the 
 mountain again. What has happened to the poor 
 fellow? But it is all the same: there is something else 
 for you to do besides grieving over a hole in Polykarp's 
 head. Go up to the tower, I tell you, and let him 
 lie — or carry him up with you into your new den, and 
 hand him over to your sweetheart to nurse." 
 
 "Demon!" exclaimed Paulus, taking up a stone. 
 
HOMO SUM. 245 
 
 "Let him lie!" repeated Miriam. " I will betray her 
 hiding-place to Phcebicius, if you do not do as Kermas 
 orders you. Now I am off to call the others, and we 
 shall meet again at the tower. And you had better 
 not linger too long with your fair companion — pious 
 Paulus — saintly Paulus!" 
 
 And laughing loudly, she sprang away from rock to 
 rock as if borne up by the air. 
 
 The Alexandrian looked wrathfully after her; but 
 her advice did not seem to be bad, he lifted the 
 wounded man on his shoulders, and hastily carried him 
 up towards his cave; but before he could reach it he 
 heard steps, and a loud agonized scream, and in a few 
 seconds Sirona was by his side, crying in passionate 
 grief, "It is he, it is he — and oh, to see him thus! — But 
 he must live, for if he were dead your God of Love 
 would be inexorable, pitiless, hard, cruel — it would 
 be—" 
 
 She could say no more, for tears choked her voice, 
 and Paulus, without listening to her lamentation, 
 passed quickly on in front of her, entered the cave and 
 laid the unconscious man down on the couch, saying 
 gravely but kindly, as Sirona threw herself on her 
 knees and pressed the young man's powerless hand to 
 her lips, " If indeed you truly love him, cease crying 
 and lamenting. He yesterday got a severe wound on 
 his head; I have washed it, now do you bind it up 
 with care, and keep it constantly cool with fresh water. 
 You know your way to the spring; when he recovers his 
 senses rub his feet, and give him some bread and a few 
 drops of the wine which you will find in the little cellar 
 hard by; there is some oil there too, which you will 
 need for a light. 
 
246 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "I must go up to the brethren, and if I do not 
 return to-morrow, give the poor lad over to his mother 
 to nurse. Only tell her this, that I, Paulus^ gave him 
 this wound in a moment of rage, and to forgive me if 
 she can, she and Petrus. And you too forgive me that 
 in which I have sinned against you, and if I should 
 fall in the battle which awaits us, pray that the Lord 
 may not be too hard upon me in the day of judgment, 
 for my sins are great and many." 
 
 At this moment the sound of the trumpets sounded 
 even into the deepest recess of the cave. Sirona started. 
 "That is the Roman tuba," she exclaimed. "I know 
 the sound — Phcebicius is coming this way." 
 
 " He is doing his duty," replied Paulus. "And stilly 
 one thing more. I saw last night a ring on your 
 hand — an onyx." 
 
 "There it lies," said Sirona; and she pointed to the 
 farthest corner of the cave, where it lay on the dusty 
 soil. 
 
 "Let it remain there," Paulus begged of her; he 
 bent over the senseless man once more to kiss his fore- 
 head, raised his hand towards Sirona in sign of bless- 
 ing, and rushed out into the open air. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Two paths led over the mountain from the oasis to* 
 the sea; both followed deep and stony gorges, one of 
 which was named the "short cut,'' because the traveller 
 reached his destination more quickly by that road than 
 by following the better road in the other ravine, which 
 
HOMO SUM. 247 
 
 was practicable for beasts of burden. Half-way up the 
 height the " short cut" opened out on a little plateau, 
 whose western side was shut in by a high mass of rock 
 with steep and precipitous flanks. At the top of this 
 rock stood a tower built of rough blocks, in which the 
 anchorites were wont to take refuge when they were 
 threatened with a descent of their foes. 
 
 The position of this castle — as the penitents proudly 
 styled their tower — was well-chosen, for from its summit 
 they commanded not only the "short cut" to the oasis, 
 but also the narrow shell-strewn strip of desert which 
 divided the western declivity of the Holy Mountain 
 from the shore, the blue-green waters of the sea, and 
 the distant chain of hills on the African coast. 
 
 Whatever approached the tower, whether from afar 
 or from the neighborhood, was at once espied by them, 
 and the side of the rock which was turned to the road- 
 way was so precipitous and smooth that it remained 
 inaccessible even to the natives of the desert, who, with 
 their naked feet and sinewy arms, could climb points 
 which even the wild goat and the jackal made a circuit 
 to avoid. It was more accessible from the other side, 
 and in order to secure that, a very strong wall had been 
 built, which enclosed the level on which the castle 
 stood in the fonn of a horseshoe, of which the ends 
 abutted on the declivity of the short road. This struct- 
 ure was so roughly and inartistically heaped together 
 that it looked as if formed by nature rather than by 
 the hand of man. The rough and unfinished appear- 
 ance of this wall-like heap of stones was heightened by 
 the quantity of large and small pieces of granite which 
 were piled on the top of it, and which had been col- 
 lected by the anchorites, in case of an incursion, to roll 
 
248 HOMO SUM. 
 
 and hurl down on the invading robbers. A cistern had 
 been dug out of the rocky soil of the plateau which the 
 wall enclosed, and care was taken to keep it constantly 
 hlled with water. 
 
 Such precautions were absolutely necessary, for the 
 anchorites were threatened with dangers from two sides. 
 First from the Ishmaelite hordes of Saracens who fell 
 upon them from the east, and secondly from the Blem- 
 myes, the wild inhabitants of the desert country which 
 borders the fertile lands of Egypt and Nubia, and par- 
 ticularly of the barren highlands that part the Red Sea 
 from the Nile valley; they crossed the sea in light 
 skiffs, and then poured over the mountain like a swarm 
 of locusts. 
 
 The little stores and savings which the defenceless 
 hermits treasured in their caves had tempted the Blem- 
 myes again and again, in spite of the Roman garrison 
 in Pharan, which usually made its appearance on the 
 scene of their incursion long after they had disappeared 
 with their scanty booty. Not many months since, the 
 raid had been effected in which old Stephanus had been 
 wounded by an arrow, and there was every reason to 
 hope that the wild marauders would not return very 
 soon, for Phcebicius, the commander of the Roman 
 maniple in the oasis, was swift and vigorous in his 
 office, and though he had not succeeded in protecting 
 the anchorites from all damage, he had followed up the 
 Blemmyes, who fled at his approach, and cut them off 
 from rejoining their boats. A battle took place between 
 the barbarians and the Romans not far from the coast 
 on the desert tract dividing the hills from the sea, which 
 resulted in the total annihilation of the wild tribes and 
 gave ground to hope that such a lesson might serve as 
 
HOMO SUM. 
 
 'A? 
 
 a warning to the sons of the desert. But if hitherto the 
 more easily quelled promptings of covetousness had led 
 them to cross the sea, they were now animated by the 
 most sacred of all duties, by the law which required 
 them to avenge the blood of their fathers and brothers, 
 and they dared to plan a fresh incursion in which they 
 should put forth all their resources. They were at the 
 same time obliged to exercise the greatest caution, and 
 collected their forces of young men in the valleys that 
 lay hidden in the long range of coast-hills. 
 
 The passage of the narrow arm of the sea that 
 parted them from Arabia Petraea, was to be effected in 
 the first dark night ; the sun, this evening, had set be- 
 hind heavy storm-clouds that had discharged themselves 
 in violent rain and had obscured the light of the waning 
 moon. So they drew their boats and rafts down to 
 the sea, and, unobserved by the sentinels on the moun- 
 tain who had taken shelter from the storm under their 
 little penthouses, they would have reached the opposite 
 shore, the mountain, and perhaps even the oasis, if 
 some one had not warned the anchorites — and that some 
 one was Hermas. 
 
 Obedient to the commands of Paulus, the lad had 
 appropriated three of his friend's gold pieces, had pro- 
 vided himself with a bow and arrows and some bread, 
 and then, after muttering a farewell to his father who 
 was asleep in his cave, he set out for Raithu. Happy 
 in the sense of his strength and manhood, proud of the 
 task which had been set him and which he deemed 
 worthy of a future soldier, and cheerfully ready to fulfil 
 it even at the cost of his life, he hastened forward in 
 the bright moonlight. He quitted the path at the spot 
 where, to render the ascent possible even to the vigor- 
 
2'50 HOMO SUM. 
 
 ous desert-travellers, it took a zigzag line, and clam- 
 bered from rock to rock, up and down in a direct line; 
 when he came to a level spot he flew on as if pursuers 
 were at his heels. After sunrise he refreshed himself with 
 a morsel of food, and then hurried on again, not heed- 
 ing the heat of noon, nor that of the soft sand in which 
 his foot sank as he followed the line of the sea-coast. 
 
 Thus passionately hurrying onwards he thought 
 neither of* Sirona nor of his past life — only of the hills 
 on the farther shore and of the Blemmyes — how he 
 should best surprise them, and, when he had learnt 
 their plans, how he might recross the sea and return to 
 his own people. At last, as he got more and more 
 weary, as the heat of the sun grew more oppressive, 
 and as the blood rushed more painfully to his heart and 
 began to throb more rapidly in his temples, he lost all 
 power of thought, and that which dwelt in his mind 
 was no more than a dumb longing to reach his destina- 
 tion as soon as possible. 
 
 It was the third afternoon when he saw from afar 
 the palms of Raithu, and hurried on with revived 
 strength. Before the sun had set he had informed the 
 anchorite, to whom Paulus had directed him, that the 
 Alexandrian declined their call, and was minded to 
 remain on the Holy Mountain. 
 
 Then Hermas proceeded to the little harbor, to bar- 
 gain with the fishermen of the place for the boat which 
 he needed. While he was talking with an old Ama- 
 lekite boatman, who, with his black-eyed sons, was 
 arranging his nets, two riders came at a quick pace to- 
 wards the bay in which a large merchant-ship lay at 
 anchor, surrounded by little barks. The fisherman 
 pointed to it. 
 
HOMO SUM. 251 
 
 "It is waiting for the caravan from Petra," he said. 
 "There, on the dromedary, is the emperor's great war- 
 rior who commands the Romans in Pharan." 
 
 " Hermas saw Phoebicius for the first time, and as 
 he rode up towards him and the fisherman he started; 
 if he had followed his first impulse, he would have 
 turned and have taken to flight, but his clear eyes had 
 met the dull and searching glance of the centurion, 
 and, blushing at his own weakness, he stood still with 
 his arms crossed, and proudly and defiantly awaited 
 the Gaul who with his companion came straight up to 
 him. 
 
 Talib had previously seen the youth by his father's 
 side; he recognized him and asked how long he had 
 been there, and if he had come direct from the moun- 
 tain. Hermas answered him as was becoming, and 
 understood at once that it was not he that the centu- 
 rion was seeking. 
 
 Perfectly reassured and not without curiosity he 
 looked at the new-comer, and a smile curled his lips as 
 he observed that the lean old man, exhausted by his 
 long and hurried ride, could scarcely hold himself on 
 his beast, and at the same time it struck him that this 
 pitiable old man was the husband of the blooming and 
 youthful Sirona, Far from feeling any remorse for his 
 intrusion into this man's "house, he yielded entirely to 
 the audacious humor with which his aspect filled him, 
 and when Phoebicius himself asked him as to whether 
 he had not met on his way with a fair-haired woman 
 and a limping greyhound, he replied, repressing his 
 laughter with difficulty: 
 
 "Aye, indeed! I did see such a woman and her 
 dog, but I do not think it was lame." 
 
252 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "Where did you see her?" asked Phoebicius hastily. 
 
 Hermas colored, for he was obliged to tell an un- 
 truth, and it might be that he would do Sirona an 
 injury by giving false information. He therefore ven- 
 tured to give no decided answer, but enquired, " Has 
 the woman committed some crime that you are pursu- 
 ing her?" 
 
 "A great one!" replied Talib, "she is my lord's 
 wife, and — " 
 
 "What she has done wrong concerns me alone,' 
 said Phcebicius, sharply interrupting his companion. 
 " I hope this fellow saw better than you who took the 
 crying woman with a child, from Aila, for Sirona. 
 What is your name, boy?" 
 
 "Hermas," answered the lad. "And who are you, 
 pray?" 
 
 The Gaul's lips were parted for an angry reply, but 
 he suppressed it and said, " I am the emperor's centu- 
 Tion, and I ask you, what did the woman look like 
 whom you saw, and where did you meet her?" 
 
 The soldier's fierce looks, and his captain's words 
 showed Hermas that the fugitive woman had nothing 
 good to expect if she were caught, and as he was not 
 in the least inclined to assist her pursuers he hastily 
 replied, giving the reins to his audacity, " I at any rate 
 did not meet the person whom you seek; the woman I 
 saw is certainly not this man's wife, for she might very 
 well be his granddaughter. She had gold hair, and a 
 rosy face, and the greyhound that followed her was 
 called Iambe." 
 
 " Where did you meet her?" shrieked the centu- 
 rion. 
 
 " In the fishing-village at the foot of the mountain," 
 

 HOMO SUM. 253 
 
 replied Hermas. " She got into a boat, and away it 
 went!" 
 
 "Towards the north?" asked the Gaul. 
 
 U I think so," replied Hermas, "but I do not know, 
 for I was in a hurry, and could not look after her." 
 
 "Then we will try to take her in Klysma," cried 
 Phcebicius to the Amalekite. "If only there were 
 horses in this accursed desert!" 
 
 " It is four days' journey," said Talib considering. 
 "And beyond Elim there is no water before the Wells 
 of Moses. Certainly if we could get good drome- 
 daries — " 
 
 " And if," interrupted Hermas, "it were not better 
 that you, my lord centurion, should not go so far from 
 the oasis. For over there they say that the Blemmyes 
 are gathering, and I myself am going across as a spy 
 so soon as it is dark." 
 
 Phcebicius looked down gloomily considering the 
 matter. The news had reached him too that the sons 
 of the desert were preparing for a new incursion, and he 
 cried to Talib angrily but decidedly, as he turned his 
 back upon Hermas, "You must ride alone to Klysma, 
 and try to capture her. I* cannot and will not neglect 
 my duty for the sake of the wretched woman." 
 
 Hermas looked after him as he went away, and 
 laughed out loud when he saw him disappear into his 
 inn. He hired a boat from the old man for his passage 
 across the sea for one of the gold pieces given him by 
 Paulus, and lying down on the nets he refreshed him- 
 self by a deep sleep of some hours' duration. When 
 the moon rose he was roused in obedience to his orders, 
 and helped the boy who accompanied him, and who 
 understood the management of the sails and rudder, to 
 
254 HOMO SUM. 
 
 push the boat, which was laid up on the sand, down in- 
 to the sea. Soon he was flying over the smooth and 
 glistening waters before a light wind, and he felt as fresh 
 and strong in spirit as a young eagle that has just left 
 the nest, and spreads its mighty wings for the first time. 
 He could have shouted in his new and delicious sense 
 of freedom, and the boy at the stern shook his head in 
 astonishment when he saw Hermas wield the oars he 
 had entrusted to him, unskilfully it is true, but with 
 mighty strokes. 
 
 "The wind is in our favor," he called out to the an- 
 chorite as he hauled round the sail with the rope in his 
 hand, " we shall get on without your working so hard. 
 You may save your strength." 
 
 "There is plenty of it, and I need not be stingy of 
 it," answered Hermas, and he bent forward for another 
 powerful stroke. 
 
 About half-way he took a rest, and admired the re- 
 flection of the moon in the bright mirror of the water, 
 and he could not but think of Petrus' court-yard that 
 had shone in the same silvery light when he had climbed 
 up to Sirona's window. The image of the fair, white- 
 armed woman recurred to his mind, and a melancholy 
 longing began to creep over him. 
 
 He sighed softly, again and yet again; but as his 
 breast heaved for the third bitter sigh, he remembered 
 the object of his journey and his broken fetters, and 
 with eager arrogance he struck the oar flat on to the 
 water so that it spurted high up, and sprinkled the boat 
 and him with a shower of wet and twinkling diamond- 
 drops. He began to work the oars again, reflecting as 
 he did so, that he had something better to do than to 
 think of a woman. Indeed, he found it easy to forget 
 
HOMO SUM. 255 
 
 Sirona completely, for in the next few days he went 
 through every excitement of a warrior's life. 
 
 Scarcely two hours after his start from Raithu he 
 was standing on the soil of another continent, and, after 
 finding a hiding-place for his boat, he slipped off among 
 the hills to watch the movements of the Blemmyes. 
 The very first day he went up to the valley in which 
 they were gathering; on the second, after being many 
 times seen and pursued, he succeeded in seizing a war- 
 rior who had been sent out to reconnoitre, and in carry- 
 ing him off with him; he bound him, and by heavy 
 threats learned many things from him. 
 
 The number of their collected enemies was great, 
 but Hermas had hopes of outstripping them, for his 
 prisoner revealed to him the spot where their boats, 
 drawn up on shore, lay hidden under sand and stones. 
 
 As soon as it was dusk, the anchorite in his boat 
 went towards the place of embarkation, and when the 
 Blemmyes, in the darkness of midnight, drew their first 
 bark into the water, Hermas sailed off ahead of the 
 enemy, landed in much danger below the western de- 
 clivity of the mountain, and hastened up towards Sinai 
 to warn the Pharanite watchmen on the beacon. 
 
 He gained the top of the difficult peak before sun- 
 rise, roused the lazy sentinels who had left their posts, 
 and before they were able to mount guard, to hoist the 
 flags or to begin to sound the brazen cymbals, he had 
 hurried on down the valley to his father's cave. 
 
 Since his disappearance Miriam had incessantly 
 hovered round Stephanus' dwelling, and had fetched 
 fresh water for the old man every morning, noon and 
 evening, even after a new nurse, who was clumsier and 
 more peevish, had taken Paulus' place. She lived on 
 
256 HOMO SUM. 
 
 roots, and on the bread the sick man gave her, and at 
 night she lay down to sleep in a deep dry cleft of the 
 rock that she had long known well. She quitted her 
 hard bed before daybreak to refill the old man's 
 pitcher, and to chatter to him about Hermas. 
 
 She was a willing servant to Stephanus because as 
 often as she went to him, she could hear his son's name 
 from his lips, and he rejoiced at her coming because 
 she always gave him the opportunity of talking of 
 Hermas. 
 
 For many weeks the sick man had been so accus- 
 tomed to let himself be waited on that he accepted the 
 shepherdess's good offices as a matter of course, and 
 she never attempted to account to herself for her readi- 
 ness to serve him. Stephanus would have suffered in 
 dispensing with her, and to her, her visits to the well 
 and her conversations with the old man had become a 
 need, nay a necessity, for she still was ignorant whether 
 Hermas was yet alive, or whether Phoebicius had 
 killed him in consequence of her betrayal. Perhaps all 
 that Stephanus told her of his son's journey of investi- 
 gation was an invention of Paulus to spare the sick 
 man, and accustom him gradually to the loss of his 
 child; and yet she was only too willing to believe that 
 Hermas still lived, and she quitted the neighborhood 
 of the cave as late as possible, and filled the sick man's 
 water-jar before the sun was up, only because she said 
 to herself that the fugitive on his return would seek no 
 one else so soon as his father. 
 
 She had not one really quiet moment, for if a falling 
 stone, an approaching footstep, or the cry of a beast 
 broke the stillness of the desert she at once hid herself, 
 and listened with a beating heart; much less from fear of 
 
HOMO SUM. 257 
 
 Petrus her master, from whom she had run away, than 
 in the expectation of hearing the step of the man whom 
 she had betrayed into the hand of his enemy, and for 
 whom she nevertheless painfully longed day and night. 
 
 As often as she lingered by the spring she wetted 
 her stubborn hair to smooth it, and washed her face 
 with as much zeal as if she thought she should succeed 
 in washing the dark hue out of her skin. And all this 
 she did for him, that on his return she might charm him 
 as much as the white woman in the oasis, whom she 
 hated as fiercely as she loved him passionately. 
 
 During the heavy storm of last night a torrent from 
 the mountain-height had shed itself into her retreat and 
 had driven her out of it. Wet through, shelterless, tor- 
 mented by remorse, fear and longing, she had clambered 
 from stone to stone, and sought refuge and peace under 
 first one rock and then another; thus she had been 
 attracted by the glimmer of light that shone out of the 
 new dwelling of the pious Paulus; she had seen and 
 recognized the Alexandrian, but he had not observed 
 her as he cowered on the ground near his hearth deeply 
 sunk in thought. 
 
 She knew now where the excommunicated man 
 dwelt after whom Stephanus often asked, and she had 
 gathered from the old man's lamentations and dark 
 hints, that Paulus too had been ensnared and brought 
 to ruin by her enemy. 
 
 As the morning-star began to pale Miriam went up 
 to Stephanus' cave; her heart was full of tears, and yet 
 she was unable to pour out her need and suffering in a 
 soothing flood of weeping; she was wholly possessed 
 with a wild desire to sink down on the earth there and 
 die, and to be released by death from her relentless, 
 
250 HOMO SUM. 
 
 driving torment. But it was still too early to disturb 
 the old man — and yet — she must hear a human voice, 
 one word — even if it were a hard word — from the lips 
 of a human being; for the bewildering feeling of dis- 
 traction which confused her mind, and the misery of 
 abandonment that crushed her heart, were all too 
 cruelly painful to be borne. 
 
 She was standing by the entrance to the cave when, 
 high above her head, she heard the falling of stones and 
 the cry of a human voice. She started and listened 
 with out-stretched neck and strung sinews, motionless. 
 Then she broke suddenly into a loud and piercing 
 shout of joy, and flinging up her arms she flew up the 
 mountain towards a traveller who came swiftly down 
 to meet her. 
 
 "Hennas! Hernias!" she shouted, and all the sunny 
 delight of her heart was reflected in her cry so clearly 
 and purely that the sympathetic chords in the young 
 man's soul echoed the sound, and he hailed her with 
 joyful welcome. 
 
 He had never before greeted her thus, and the tone 
 of his voice revived her poor crushed heart like a re- 
 storative draught offered by a tender hand to the lips of 
 the dying. Exquisite delight, and a glow of gratitude 
 such as she had never before felt flooded her soul, and 
 as he was so good to her she longed to show him that 
 she had something to offer in return for the gift of 
 friendship which he offered her. So the first thing she 
 said to him was, "I have staid constantly near your 
 father, and have brought him water early and late, as 
 much as he needed." 
 
 She blushed as she thus for the first time praised 
 herself to him, but Hermas exclaimed, "That is a good 
 
HOMO SUM. „ 259 
 
 girl! and I will not forget it. You are a wild, silly- 
 thing, but I believe that you ar*e to be relied on by 
 those to whom you feel kindly." 
 
 " Only try me," cried Miriam holding out her hand 
 to him. He took it, and as they went on together he 
 said: 
 
 " Do you hear the brass ? I have warned the watch- 
 men up there; the Blemmyes are coming. Is Paulus 
 with my father ? " 
 
 " No, but I know where he is." 
 
 "Then you must call him," said the young man. 
 " Him first and then Gelasius, and Psoes, and Dulas, 
 and any more of the penitents that you can find. They 
 must all go to the castle by the ravine. Now I will go 
 to my father; you hurry on and show that you are to 
 be trusted." As he spoke he put his arm round her 
 waist, but she slipped shyly away, and calling out, " I 
 will take them all the message," she hurried off. 
 
 In front of the cave where she had hoped to meet 
 with Paulus she found Sirona; she did not stop with 
 her, but contented herself with laughing wildly and call- 
 ing out words of abuse. 
 
 Guided by the idea that she should find the Alexan- 
 drian at the nearest well, she went on and called him, 
 then hurrying on from cave to cave she delivered her 
 message in Hernias' name, happy to serve him. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 They were all collected behind the rough wall on 
 the edge of the ravine — the strange men who had 
 
260 HOMO SUM. 
 
 turned their back on life with all its joys and pains, its 
 duties and its delights, on the community and family 
 to which they belonged, and had fled to the desert, 
 there to strive for a prize above and beyond this life, 
 when they had of their own free-will renounced all other 
 effort. In the voiceless desert, far from the enticing 
 echoes of the world, it might be easy to kill every sen- 
 sual impulse, to throw off the fetters of the world, and 
 so bring that humanity, which was bound to the dust 
 through sin and the flesh, nearer to the pure and incor- 
 porate being of the Divinity. 
 
 All these men were Christians, and, like the Saviour 
 who had freely taken torments upon Himself to become 
 the Redeemer, they too sought through the purifying 
 power of suffering to free themselves from the dross of 
 their impure human nature, and by severe penance to 
 contribute their share of atonement for their own guilt, 
 and for that of all their race. No fear of persecution 
 had driven them into the desert — nothing but the hope 
 of gaining the hardest of victories. 
 
 All the anchorites who had been summoned to the 
 tower were Egyptians and Syrians, and among the 
 former particularly there were many who, being already 
 inured to abstinence and penance in the service of the 
 old gods in their own country, now as Christians had 
 selected as the scene of their pious exercises the very 
 spot where the Lord must have revealed Himself to his 
 elect. 
 
 At a later date not merely Sinai itself but the whole 
 tract of Arabia Petraea — through which, as it was said, 
 the Jews at their exodus under Moses had wandered — 
 was peopled with ascetics of like mind, who gave to 
 their settlements the names of the resting-places of the 
 
HOMO SUM. 26l 
 
 chosen people, as mentioned in the Scriptures; but as 
 yet there was no connection between the individual 
 penitents, no order ruled their lives; they might still be 
 counted by tens, though ere long they numbered hun- 
 dreds and thousands. 
 
 The threat of danger had brought all these contem- 
 ners of the world and of life in stormy haste to the 
 shelter of the tower, in spite of their readiness to die. 
 Only old Kosmas, who had withdrawn to the desert 
 with his wife — she had found a grave there — had re- 
 mained in his cave, and had declared to Gelasius, who 
 shared his cave and who had urged him to flight, that 
 he was content in whatever place or whatever hour the 
 Lord should call him, and that it was in God's hands 
 to decide whether old age or an arrow-shot should 
 open to him the gates of heaven. 
 
 It was quite otherwise with the rest of the ancho- 
 rites, who rushed through the narrow door of the watch- 
 tower and into its inner room till it was filled to over- 
 flowing, and Paulus, who in the presence of danger 
 had fully recovered his equanimity, was obliged to re- 
 fuse admission to a new-comer in order to preserve the 
 closely packed and trembling crowd from injury. 
 
 No murrain passes from beast to beast, no mildew 
 from fruit to fruit with such rapidity as fear spreads 
 from man to man. Those who had been driven by the 
 sharpest lashings of terror had run the fastest, and 
 reached the castle first. They had received those who 
 followed them with lamentation and outcries, and it 
 was a pitiable sight to see how the terrified crowd, in 
 the midst of their loud declarations of resignation to 
 God's guidance and their pious prayers, wrung their 
 hands, and at the same time how painfully anxious 
 
262 HOMO SUM. 
 
 each one was to hide the little property he had saved 
 first from the disapproval of his companions, and then 
 from the covetousness of the approaching enemy. 
 
 With Paulus came Sergius and Jeremias to whom,, 
 on the way, he had spoken words of encouragement. 
 All three did their utmost to revive the confidence of 
 the terrified men, and when the Alexandrian reminded 
 them how zealously each of them only a few weeks 
 since had helped to roll the blocks and stones from the 
 wall, and down the precipice, so as to crush and slay 
 the advancing enemy the feeling was strong in many 
 of them that, as he had already proved himself worthy 
 in defence, it was due to him now to make him their 
 leader. 
 
 The number of the men who rushed out of the 
 tower was increasing, and when Hermas appeared with 
 his father on his back and followed by Miriam, and 
 when Paulus exhorted his companions to be edified by 
 this pathetic picture of filial love, curiosity tempted even 
 the last loiterers in the tower out into the open space. 
 
 The Alexandrian sprang over the wall, went up to 
 Stephanus, lifted him from the shoulders of the panting 
 youth and, taking him on his own, carried him towards 
 the tower; but the old warrior refused to enter the 
 place of refuge, and begged his friend to lay him down 
 by the wall. Paulus obeyed his wish and then went 
 with Hermas to the top of the tower to spy the distance 
 from thence. 
 
 As soon as he had quitted him, Stephanus turned to 
 the anchorites who stood near him, saying, "These 
 stones are loose, and though my strength is indeed 
 small still it is great enough to send one of them over 
 with a push. If it comes to a battle my old soldier's 
 
HOMO SUM. 263 
 
 eyes, dim as they are now, may with the help of yours 
 see many things that may be useful to you young ones; 
 Above all things, if the game is to be a hot one for the 
 robbers, one must command here whom the others will 
 obey." 
 
 "It shall be you, father," interrupted Salathiel the 
 Syrian. "You have served in Caesar's army, and you 
 proved your courage and knowledge of war in the last 
 raid. You shall command us." 
 
 Stephanus sadly shook his head and replied, " My 
 voice is become too weak and low since this wound in 
 my breast and my long illness. Not even those who 
 stand nearest to me would understand me in the noise 
 of battle. Let Paulus be your captain, for he is strong, 
 cautious and brave." 
 
 Many of the anchorites had long looked upon the 
 Alexandrian as their best stay; for many years he had 
 enjoyed the respect of all and on a thousand occasions 
 had given proof of his strength and presence of mind, 
 but at this proposal they looked at each other in sur- 
 prise, doubt and disapproval. 
 
 Stephanus saw what was passing in their minds. 
 
 " It is true he has erred gravely," he said. "And 
 before God he is the least of the least among us; but in 
 animal strength and indomitable courage he is superior 
 to you all. Which of you would be willing to take his 
 place, if you reject his guidance." 
 
 " Orion the Saite," cried one of the anchorites, " is 
 tall and strong. If he would — " 
 
 But Orion eagerly excused himself from assuming 
 the dangerous office, and when Andreas and Joseph 
 also refused with no less decision the leadership that 
 was offered them, Stephanus said: 
 
264 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "You see there is no choice left us but to beg the 
 Alexandrian to command us here so long as the robbers 
 threaten us, and no longer. There he comes — shall I 
 ask him?" 
 
 A murmur of consent, though by no means of 
 satisfaction, answered the old man, and Paulus, 
 quite carried away by his eagerness to stake his 
 life and blood for the protection of the weak, and 
 fevered with a soldier's ardor, accepted Stephanus' 
 commission as a matter of course, and set to work 
 like a general to organize the helpless wearers of 
 sheepskin. 
 
 Some he sent to the top of the tower to keep watch, 
 others he charged with the transport of the stones; to 
 a third party he entrusted the duty of hurling pieces of 
 rock and blocks of stone down into the abyss in the 
 moment of danger; he requested the weaker brethren 
 to assemble themselves together, to pray for the others 
 and to sing hymns of praise, and he concerted signs 
 and passwords with all; he was now here, now there, 
 and his energy and confidence infused themselves even 
 into the faint-hearted. 
 
 In the midst of these arrangements Hermas took 
 leave of him and of his father, for he heard the Roman 
 war-trumpets and the drums of the young manhood of 
 Pharan, as they marched through the short cut to meet 
 the enemy. He knew where the main strength of the 
 Blemmyes lay and communicated this knowledge to the 
 Centurion Phoebicius and the captain of the Pharanites. 
 The Gaul put a few short questions to Hermas, whom 
 he recognized immediately, for since he had met him at 
 the harbor of Ra'ithu he could not forget his eyes, which 
 reminded him of those of Glycera; and after receiving 
 
HOMO SUM. 265 
 
 his hasty and decided answers he issued rapid and pru- 
 dent orders. 
 
 A third of the Pharanites were to march forward 
 against the enemy, drumming and trumpeting, and then 
 retreat as far as the watch-tower as the enemy approach- 
 ed over the plain. If the Blemmyes allowed themselves 
 to be tempted thither, a second third of the warriors of 
 the oasis, that could easily lie in ambush in a cross- 
 valley, were to fall on their left flank, while Phcebicius 
 and his maniple — hidden behind the rock on which the 
 castle stood — would suddenly rush out and so decide 
 the battle. The last third of the Pharanites had orders 
 to destroy the ships of the invaders under the command 
 of Hermas, who knew the spot where they had landed. 
 
 In the worst case the centurion and his men could 
 retreat into the castle, and there defend themselves till 
 the warriors of the nearest seaports — whither messengers 
 were already on their way — should come to the rescue. 
 
 The Gaul's orders were immediately obeyed, and 
 Hermas walked at the head of the division entrusted to 
 him, as proud and as self-possessed as any of Caesar's 
 veterans leading his legion into the field. He carried 
 a bow and arrows at his back, and in his hand a battle- 
 axe that he had bought at Ra'ithu. 
 
 Miriam attempted to follow the troops he was lead- 
 ing, but he observed her, and called out, "Go up to 
 the fort, child, to my father." And the shepherdess 
 obeyed without hesitation. 
 
 The anchorites had all crowded to the edge of the 
 precipice, they looked at the division of the forces, and 
 signed and shouted down. They had hoped that some 
 part of the fighting men would be joined to them for 
 their defence, but, as they soon learned, they had hoped 
 
266 HOMO SUM. 
 
 in vain. Stephanus, whose feeble sight could not reach 
 so far as the plain at the foot of the declivity, made 
 Paulus report to him all that was going on there, and 
 with the keen insight of a soldier he comprehended the 
 centurion's plan. The troop led by Hermas passed by 
 below the tower, and the youth waved and shouted a 
 greeting up to his father. Stephanus, whose hearing 
 remained sharper than his sight, recognized his son's 
 voice and took leave of him with tender and loving 
 words in as loud a voice as he could command. 
 Paulus collected all the overflow of the old man's heart 
 in one sentence, and called out his blessings through 
 his two hands as a speaking-trumpet, after his friend's 
 son as he departed to battle. Hermas understood ; but 
 deeply as he was touched by this farewell he answered 
 only by dumb signs. A father can find a hundred 
 words of blessing sooner than a son can find one of 
 thanks. 
 
 As the youth disappeared behind the rocks, Paulus 
 said, "He marches on like an experienced soldier, and 
 the others follow him as sheep follow a ram. But 
 hark! — Certainly — the foremost division of the Phara- 
 nites and the enemy have met. The outcry comes 
 nearer and nearer." 
 
 "Then all will be well," cried Stephanus excitedly. 
 " If they only take the bait and let themselves be drawn 
 on to the plateau I think they are lost. From here we 
 can watch the whole progress of the battle, and if our 
 side are driven back it may easily happen that they will 
 throw themselves into the castle. Now not a pebble 
 must be thrown in vain, for if our tower becomes the 
 central point of the struggle the defenders will need 
 stones to fling." 
 
HOMO SUM. 267 
 
 These words were heard by several of the ancho- 
 rites, and as now the war-cries and the noise of the 
 fight came nearer and nearer, and one and another 
 repeated to each other that their place of refuge would 
 become the centre of the combat, the frightened peni- 
 tents quitted the posts assigned to them by Paulus, ran 
 hither and thither in spite of the Alexandrian's severe 
 prohibition, and most of them at last joined the com- 
 pany of the old and feeble, whose psalms grew more and 
 more lamentable as danger pressed closer upon them. 
 
 Loudest of all was the wailing of the Sa'ite Orion 
 who cried with uplifted hands, "What wilt Thou of us 
 miserable creatures, O Lord ? When Moses left Thy 
 chosen people on this very spot for only forty days, 
 they at once fell away from Thee; and we, we without 
 any leader have spent all our life in Thy service, and 
 have given up all that can rejoice the heart, and have 
 taken every kind of suffering upon us to please Theel 
 and now these hideous heathen are surging round us 
 again, and will kill us. Is this the reward of victory 
 for our striving and our long wrestling?" 
 
 The rest joined in the lamentation of the Sa'ite, but 
 Paulus stepped into their midst, blamed them for their 
 cowardice, and with warm and urgent speech implored 
 them to return to their posts so that the wall might be 
 guarded at least on the eastern and more accessible 
 side, and that the castle might not fall an easy prey 
 into the hands of an enemy from whom no quarter was 
 to be expected. Some of the anchorites were already 
 proceeding to obey the Alexandrian's injunction, when 
 a fearful cry, the war-cry of the Blemmyes who were in 
 pursuit of the Pharanites, rose from the foot of their 
 rock of refuge. 
 
268 HOMO SUM. 
 
 They crowded together again in terror; Salathiel 
 the Syrian, had ventured to the edge of the abyss, and 
 had looked over old Stephanus' shoulder down into the 
 hollow, and when he rushed back to his companions, 
 crying in terror, "Our men are flying!" Gelasius 
 shrieked aloud, beat his breast, and tore his rough black 
 hair, crying out: 
 
 " O Lord God, what wilt Thou of us ? Is it vain 
 then to strive after righteousness and virtue that Thou 
 givest us over unto death, and dost not fight for us ? 
 If we are overcome by the heathen, ungodliness and 
 brute force will boast themselves as though they had 
 won the victory over righteousness and truth ! " 
 
 Paulus had turned from the lamenting hermits, per- 
 plexed and beside himself, and stood with Stephanus 
 watching the fight. 
 
 The Blemmyes had come in great numbers, and 
 their attack, before which the Pharanites were to have 
 retired as a feint, fell with such force upon the foremost 
 division that they and their comrades, who had rushed 
 to their aid on the plateau, were unable to resist it, and 
 were driven back as far as the spot where the ravine 
 narrowed. 
 
 "Things are not as they should be," said Stephanus. 
 
 "And the cowardly band, like a drove of cattle," 
 cried Paulus in a fury, " leave the walls unprotected, 
 and blaspheme God instead of watching or fighting." 
 
 The anchorites noticed his gestures, which were in- 
 deed those of a desperate man, and Sergius exclaimed: 
 
 "Are we then wholly abandoned? Why does not 
 the thorn-bush light its fires, and destroy the evil-doers 
 with its flames ? Why is the thunder silent, and where 
 are the lightnings that played round the peak of Sinai? 
 
HOMO SUM. 269 
 
 Why does not darkness fall upon us to affright the hea- 
 then ? Why does not the earth open her mouth to 
 swallow them up like the company of Korah ? " 
 
 " The Might of God," cried Dulas, " tarries too long. 
 The Lord must set our piety in a doubtful light, for He 
 treats us as though we were unworthy of all care." 
 
 "And that you are!" exclaimed Paulus, who had 
 heard the last words, and who was dragging rather than 
 leading the feeble Stephanus to the unguarded eastern 
 wall. " That you are, for instead of resisting His enemies 
 you blaspheme God, and disgrace yourself by your mis- 
 erable cowardice. Look at this sick old man who is 
 prepared to defend you, and obey my orders without a 
 murmur, or, by the holy martyrs, I will drag you to 
 your posts by your hair and ears, and will — " 
 
 But he ceased speaking, for his threats were inter- 
 rupted by a powerful voice which called his name from 
 the foot of the wall. 
 
 " That is Agapitus," exclaimed Stephanus. " Lead 
 me to the wall, and set me down there." 
 
 Before Paulus could accede to his friend's wish the 
 tall form of the bishop was standing by his side. 
 
 Agapitus the Cappadocian had in his youth been a 
 warrior; he had hardly passed the limits of middle age, 
 and was a vigilant captain of his congregation. When 
 all the youth of Pharan had gone forth to meet the 
 Blemmyes, he had no peace in the oasis, and, after en- 
 joining on the presbyters and deacons that they should 
 pray in the church for the fighting men with the women 
 and the men who remained behind, he himself, accom- 
 panied by a guide and two acolytes, had gone up the 
 mountain to witness the battle. 
 
 To the other priests and his wife who sought to de- 
 
270 HOMO SUM. 
 
 tain him, he had answered, "Where the flock is there 
 should the shepherd be!" 
 
 Unseen and unheard he had gained the castle-wall 
 and had been a witness to Paulus' vehement speech. 
 He now stood opposite the Alexandrian with rolling 
 eyes, and threateningly lifted his powerful hand as he 
 •called out to him : 
 
 " And dare an outcast speak thus to his brethren ? 
 "Will the champion of Satan give orders to the soldiers 
 of the Lord ? It would indeed be a joy to you if by 
 your strong arm you could win back the good name 
 that your soul, crippled by sin and guilt, has flung 
 away. Come on, my friends ! the Lord is with us and 
 will help us." 
 
 Paulus had let the bishop's words pass over him in 
 silence, and raised his hands like the other anchorites 
 when Agapitus stepped into their midst, and uttered a 
 short and urgent prayer. 
 
 After the "Amen" the bishop pointed out, like a 
 general, to each man, even to the feeble and aged, his 
 place by the wall or behind the stones for throwing, and 
 then cried out with a clear ringing voice that sounded 
 above all other noise, " Show to-day that you are in- 
 deed soldiers of the Most High." 
 
 Not one rebelled, and when man by man each had 
 placed himself at his post, he went to the precipice and 
 looked attentively down at the fight that was raging 
 below. 
 
 The Pharanites were now opposing the attack of 
 the Blemmyes with success, for Phcebicius, rushing for- 
 ward with his men from their ambush, had fallen upon 
 the compact mass of the sons of the desert in flank and, 
 spreading death and ruin, had divided them into two 
 
HOMO SUM. 271 
 
 bodies. The well-trained and well-armed Romans 
 seemed to have an easy task with their naked oppo- 
 nents, who, in a hand to hand fight, could not avail 
 themselves of either their arrows or their spears. But 
 the Blemmyes had learned to use their strength in fre- 
 quent battles with the imperial troops, and so soon as 
 they perceived that they were no match for their ene- 
 mies in pitched battle, their leaders set up a strange 
 shrill cry, their ranks dissolved, and they dispersed in 
 all directions, like a heap of feathers strewn by a gust of 
 wind. 
 
 Agapitus took the hasty disappearance of the enemy 
 for wild flight, he sighed deeply and thankfully and 
 turned to go down to the field of battle, and to speak 
 consolation to his wounded fellow-Christians. 
 
 But in the castle itself he found opportunity for ex- 
 ercising his pious office, for before him stood the shep- 
 herdess whom he had already observed on his arrival 
 and she said with much embarrassment, but clearly and 
 quickly, " Old Stephanus there, my lord bishop — Her- 
 mas' father for whom I carry water — bids me ask you 
 to come to him, for his wound has reopened and he 
 thinks his end is near." 
 
 Agapitus immediately obeyed this call ; he went 
 with hasty steps towards the sick man, whose wound 
 Paulus and Orion had already bound up, and greeted 
 him with a familiarity that he was far from showing to 
 the other penitents. He had long known the former 
 name and the fate of Stephanus, and it was by his ad- 
 vice that Hermas had been obliged to join the deputa- 
 tion sent to Alexandria, for Agapitus was of opinion 
 that no one ought to flee from the battle of life without 
 having first taken some part in it. 
 
272 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Stephanus put out his hand to the bishop who sat 
 down beside him, signed to the bystanders to leave them 
 alone, and listened attentively to the feeble words of 
 the sufferer. When he had ceased speaking, Agapitus 
 said: 
 
 " I praise the Lord with you for having permitted 
 your lost wife to find the ways that lead to Him, and 
 your son will be — as you were once — a valiant man of 
 war. Your earthly house is set in order, but are you 
 prepared for the other, the everlasting mansion ? " 
 
 "For eighteen years I have done penance, and 
 prayed, and borne great sufferings," answered the sick 
 man. "The world lies far behind me, and I hope I 
 am walking in the path that leads to heaven." 
 
 " So do I hope for you and for your soul," said the 
 bishop. "That which it is hardest to endure has fallen 
 to your lot in this world, but have you striven to forgive 
 those who did you the bitterest wrong, and can you 
 pray, ' Forgive us our sins as we forgive them that sin 
 against us?' Do you remember the words, 'If ye for- 
 give men their trespasses your heavenly father will also 
 forgive you?"' 
 
 " Not only have I pardoned Glycera," answered 
 Stephanus, " but I have taken her again into my heart 
 of hearts; but the man who basely seduced her, the 
 wretch, who although I had done him a thousand ben- 
 efits, betrayed me, robbed me and dishonored me, I 
 wish him — " 
 
 " Forgive him," cried Agapitus, " as you would be 
 forgiven." 
 
 "I have striven these eighteen years to bless my 
 enemy," replied Stephanus, " and I will still continue to 
 strive — " 
 
HOMO SUM. 273 
 
 Up to this moment the bishop had devoted his 
 whole attention to the sick anchorite, but he was now 
 called on all .sides at once, and Gelasius, who was stand- 
 ing by the declivity with some other anchorites, called 
 out to him, "Father — save us — the heathen there are 
 climbing up the rocks." 
 
 Agapitus signed a blessing over Stephanus and then 
 turned away from him, saying earnestly once more, 
 "Forgive, and heaven is open to you." 
 
 Many wounded and dead lay on the plain, and the 
 Pharanites were retreating into the ravine, for the Blem- 
 myes had not indeed fled, but had only dispersed them- 
 selves, and then had climbed up the rocks which 
 hemmed in the level ground and shot their arrows at 
 their enemies from thence. 
 
 "Where are the Romans?" Agapitus eagerly en- 
 quired of Orion. 
 
 "They are withdrawing into the gorge through 
 which the road leads up here," answered the Sa'ite. 
 "But look! only look at these heathen ! The Lord be 
 merciful to us! they are climbing up the cliffs like wood- 
 peckers up a tree." 
 
 "The stones, fly to the stones!" cried Agapitus with 
 flashing eyes to the anchorites that stood by. "What is 
 going on behind the wall there? Do you hear? Yes — 
 that is the Roman tuba. Courage, brethren! the empe- 
 ror's soldiers are guarding the weakest side of the castle. 
 But look here at the naked figures in the cleft. Bring the 
 blocks here; set your shoulders stoutly to it, Orion! one 
 more push, Salathiel ! There it goes, it crashes down — 
 if only it does not stick in the rift! No! thank God, it 
 has bounded off— that was a leap! Well done — there 
 were six enemies of the Lord destroyed at once." 
 
 18 
 
274 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "I see three more yonder," cried Orion. "Come 
 here, Damianus, and help me." 
 
 The man he called rushed forward with several 
 others, and the first success raised the courage of the 
 anchorites so rapidly and wonderfully that the bishop 
 soon found it difficult to restrain their zeal, and to per- 
 suade them to be sparing with the precious missiles. 
 
 While, under the direction of Agapitus stone after 
 stone was hurled clattering over the steep precipice 
 down upon the Blemmyes, Paulus sat by the sick man, 
 looking at the ground. 
 
 "You are not helping them?" asked Stephanus. 
 
 "Agapitus is right," replied the Alexandrian. "I 
 have much to expiate, and fighting brings enjoyment. 
 How great enjoyment I can understand by the torture 
 it is to me to sit still. The bishop blessed you affec- 
 tionately." 
 
 " I am near the goal," sighed Stephanus, " and he 
 promises me the joys of heaven if I only forgive him 
 who stole my wife from me. He is forgiven — yes, all 
 is forgiven him, and may everything that he undertakes 
 turn to good; yea, and nothing turn to evil — only feel 
 how my heart throbs, it is rallying its strength once 
 more before it utterly ceases to beat. When it is all 
 over repeat to Hennas everything that I have told you, 
 and bless him a thousand, thousand times in my name 
 and his mother's ; but never, never tell him that in an 
 hour of weakness she ran away with that villain — that 
 man, that miserable man I mean — whom I forgive. 
 Give Hermas this ring, and with it the letter that you 
 will find under the dry herbs on the couch in my cave ; 
 they will secure him a reception from his uncle, who will 
 also procure him a place in the army, for my brother is 
 
HOMO SUM. 275 
 
 in high favor with Caesar. Only listen how Agapitus 
 urges on our men; they are fighting bravely there; 
 that is the Roman tuba. Attend to me— the maniple 
 will occupy the castle and shoot down on the heathen 
 from hence; when they come carry me into the tower. 
 I am weak and would fain collect my thoughts, and 
 pray once more that I may find strength to forgive the 
 man not with my lips only." 
 
 " Down there see — there come the Romans," cried 
 Paulus interrupting him. "Here, up here!" he called 
 down to the men, "The steps are more to the left." 
 
 "Here we are," answered a sharp voice. "You 
 stay there, you people, on that projection of rock, and 
 keep your eye on the castle. If any danger threatens 
 call me with the trumpet. I will climb up, and from 
 the top of the tower there I can see where the dogs 
 come from." 
 
 During this speech Stephanus had looked down and 
 listened; when a few minutes later the Gaul reached 
 the wall and called out to the men inside, " Is there no 
 one there who will give me a hand?" he turned to 
 Paulus, saying, "Lift me up and support me — quick!" 
 
 With an agility that astonished the Alexandrian, 
 Stephanus stood upon his feet, leaned over the wall 
 towards the centurion — who had climbed as far as the 
 outer foot of it, looked him in the face with eager atten- 
 tion, shuddered violently, and repressing his feelings 
 with the utmost effort offered him his lean hand to help 
 him. 
 
 "Servianus!" cried the centurion, who was greatly 
 shocked by such a meeting and in such a place, and 
 who, struggling painfully for composure, stared first at 
 the old man and then at Paulus. 
 
276 HOMO SUM. 
 
 Not one of the three succeeded in uttering a word; 
 but Stephanus' eyes were fixed on the Gaul's features, 
 and the longer he looked at him the hollo wer grew his 
 cheeks and the paler his lips; at the same time he still 
 held out his hand to the other, perhaps in token of 
 forgiveness. 
 
 So passed a long minute. Then Phcebicius recol- 
 lected that he had climbed the wall in the emperor's 
 service, and stamping with impatience at himself he 
 took the old man's hand in a hasty grasp. But scarcely 
 had Stephanus felt the touch of the Gaul's fingers when 
 he started as struck by lightning, and flung himself with 
 a hoarse cry on his enemy who was hanging on the 
 edge of the wall. 
 
 Paulus gazed in horror at the frightful scene, and 
 cried aloud with fervent unction, " Let him go — forgive 
 that heaven may forgive you." 
 
 "Heaven! what is heaven, what is forgiveness !" 
 screamed the old man. " He shall be damned." 
 
 Before the Alexandrian could hinder him, the loose 
 stone over which the enemies were wrestling in breath- 
 less combat gave way, and both were hurled into the 
 abyss with the falling rock. 
 
 Paulus groaned from the lowest depth of his breast 
 and murmured while the tears ran down his cheeks, 
 " He too has fought the fight, and he too has striven in 
 
HOMO SUM. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The fight was ended; the sun as it went to its rest 
 behind the Holy Mountain had lighted many corpses 
 of Blemmyes, and now the stars shone down on the 
 oasis from the clear sky. 
 
 Hymns of praise sounded out of the church, and 
 near it, under the hill against which it was built, torches 
 were blazing and threw their ruddy light on a row of 
 biers, on which under green palm-branches lay the heroes 
 who had fallen in the battle against the Blemmyes. 
 
 Now the hymn ceased, the gates of the house of 
 God opened and Agapitus led his followers towards the 
 dead. The congregation gathered in a half-circle round 
 their peaceful brethren, and heard the blessing that 
 their pastor pronounced over the noble victims who had 
 shed their blood in fighting the heathen. When it was 
 ended those who in life had been their nearest and 
 dearest went up to the dead, and many tears fell into 
 the sand from the eye of a mother or a wife, many a 
 sigh went up to heaven from a father's breast. Next 
 to the bier, on which old Stephanus was resting, stood 
 another and a smaller one, and between the two 
 Hermas knelt and wept. He raised his face, for a deep 
 and kindly voice spoke his name. 
 
 "Petrus," said the lad, clasping the hand that the 
 senator held out to him, " I felt forced and driven out 
 into the world, and away from my father — and now he 
 is gone for ever how gladly I would have been kept by 
 him." 
 
278 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "He died a noble death, in battle for those he 
 loved," said the senator consolingly. 
 
 " Paulus was near him when he fell," replied Her- 
 nias. " My father fell from the wall while defending 
 the tower; but look here this girl — poor child — who 
 used to keep your goats, died like a heroine. Poor, 
 wild Miriam, how kind I would be to you if only you 
 were alive now!" 
 
 Hermas as he spoke stroked the arm of the shep- 
 herdess, pressed a kiss on her small, cold hand, and 
 softly folded it with the other across her bosom. 
 
 " How did the girl get into the battle with the men?" 
 asked Petrus. "But you can tell me that in my own 
 house. Come and be our guest as long as it pleases 
 you, and until you go forth into the world; thanks are 
 due to you from us all." 
 
 Hermas blushed and modestly declined the praises 
 which were showered on him on all sides as the savior 
 of the oasis. When the wailing women appeared he 
 knelt once more at the head of his father's bier, cast a 
 last loving look at Miriam's peaceful face, and then 
 followed his host. 
 
 The man and boy crossed the court together. 
 Hermas involuntarily glanced up at the window where 
 more than once he had seen Sirona, and said, as he 
 pointed to the centurion's house, " He too fell." 
 
 Petrus nodded and opened the door of his house. 
 In the hall, which was lighted up, Dorothea came 
 hastily to meet him, asking, "No news yet of Poly- 
 karp?" 
 
 Her husband shook his head, and she added, " How 
 indeed is it possible? He will write at the soonest 
 from Klysma or perhaps even from Alexandria." 
 
HOMO RUM. % 279 
 
 "That is just what I think," replied Petrus, looking 
 down to the ground. Then he turned to Hernias and 
 introduced him to his wife. 
 
 Dorothea received the young man with warm sym- 
 pathy; she had heard that his father had fallen in the 
 fight, and how nobly he too had distinguished himself. 
 Supper was ready, and Hermas was invited to share it. 
 The mistress gave her daughter a sign to make prepa- 
 rations for their guest, but Petrus detained Marthana, 
 and said, "Hermas may fill Antonius' place; he has 
 still something to do with some of the workmen. 
 Where are Jethro and the house-slaves ?" 
 
 "They have already eaten," said Dorothea. 
 
 The husband and wife looked at each other, and 
 Petrus said with a melancholy smile, "I believe they 
 are up on the mountain." 
 
 Dorothea wiped a tear from her eye as she replied, 
 "They will meet Antonius there. If only they could 
 find Polykarp ! And yet I honestly say — not merely to 
 comfort you — it is most probable that he has not met 
 with any accident in the mountain gorges, but has gone 
 to Alexandria to escape the memories that follow him 
 here at every step — Was not that the gate ? " 
 
 She rose quickly and looked into the court, while 
 Petrus, who had followed her, did the same, saying with 
 a deep sigh, as he turned to Marthana — who, while she 
 offered meat and bread to Hermas was watching her 
 parents — " It was only the slave Anubis." 
 
 For some time a painful silence reigned round the 
 large table, to-day so sparely furnished with guests. 
 
 At last Petrus turned to his guest and said, " You 
 were to tell me how the shepherdess Miriam lost her life 
 in the struggle. She had run away from our house — " 
 
280 9 HOMO SUM. 
 
 "Up the mountain," added Hermas. "She supplied 
 my poor father with water like a daughter." 
 
 "You see, mother," interrupted Marthana, "she 
 was not bad-hearted- I always said so." 
 
 "This morning," continued Hermas, nodding in sad 
 assent to the maiden, "she followed my father to the 
 castle, and immediately after his fall, Paulus told me, 
 she rushed away from it, but only to seek me and to 
 bring me the sad news. We had known each other a 
 long time, for years she had watered her goats at our 
 well, and while I was still quite a boy and she a little 
 girl, she would listen for hours when I played on my 
 willow pipe the songs which Paulus had taught me. 
 As long as I played she was perfectly quiet, and when 
 I ceased she wanted to hear more and still more, until 
 I had too much of it and went away. Then she would 
 grow angry, and if I would not do her will she would 
 scold me with bad words. But she always came again, 
 and as I had no other companion and she was the only 
 creature who cared to listen to me, I was very well- 
 content that she should prefer our well to all the others. 
 Then we grew older and I began to be afraid of her, 
 for she would talk in such a godless way — and she even 
 died a heathen. Paulus, who once overheard us, 
 warned me against her, and as I had long thrown away 
 the pipe and hunted beasts with my bow and arrow when- 
 ever my father would let me, I was with her for shorter 
 intervals when I went to the well to draw water, and we 
 became more and more strangers; indeed, I could be 
 quite hard to her. Only once after I came back from 
 the capital something happened — but that I need not tell 
 you. The poor child was so unhappy at being a slave, 
 and no doubt had first seen the light in a free-house. 
 
HOMO SUM. 251 
 
 " She was fond of me, more than a sister is of a 
 brother — and when my father was dead she felt that I 
 ought not to learn the news from any one but herself. 
 She had seen which way I had gone with the Pharanites 
 and followed me up, and she soon found me, for she 
 had the eyes of a gazelle and the ears of a startled bird. 
 It was not this time difficult to find me, for when she 
 sought me we were fighting with the Blemmyes in the 
 green hollow that leads from the mountain to the sea. 
 They roared with fury like wild beasts, for before we 
 could get to the sea the fishermen in the little town be- 
 low had discovered their boats, which they had hidden 
 under sand and stones, and had carried them off to 
 their harbor. The boy from Ra'ithu who accompanied 
 me, had by my orders kept them in sight, and had led 
 the fishermen to the hiding-place. The watchmen 
 whom they had left with the boats had fled, and had 
 reached their companions who were fighting round the 
 castle, and at least two hundred of them had been sent 
 back to the shore to recover possession of the boats and 
 to punish the fishermen. This troop met us in the 
 green valley, and there we fell to fighting. 
 
 The Blemmyes outnumbered us; they soon sur- 
 rounded us before and behind, on the right side and on 
 the left, for they jumped and climbed from rock to rock 
 like mountain goats and then shot down their reed- 
 arrows from above. Three or four touched me, and 
 one pierced my hair and remained hanging in it with 
 the feather at the end of the shaft. 
 
 "How the battle went elsewhere I cannot tell 
 you, for the blood mounted to my head, and I was only 
 conscious that I myself snorted and shouted like a mad- 
 man and wrestled with the heathen now here and now 
 
282 HOMO SUM. 
 
 there, and more than once lifted my axe to cleave a 
 skull. At the same time I saw a part of our men turn 
 to fly, and I called them back with furious words; then 
 they turned round and followed me again. 
 
 " Once, in the midst of the struggle, I saw Miriam 
 too, clinging pale and trembling to a rock and looking 
 on at the fight. I shouted to her to leave the spot, and 
 go back to my father, but she stood still and shook her 
 head with a gesture — a gesture so full of pity and 
 anguish — I shall never forget it. With hands and eyes 
 she signed to me that my father was dead, and I under- 
 stood; at least I understood that some dreadful misfor- 
 tune had happened. I had no time for reflection, for 
 before I could gain any certain information by word of 
 mouth, a captain of the heathen had seized me, and we 
 came to a life and death struggle before Miriam's very 
 eyes. My opponent was strong, but I showed the girl 
 — who had often taunted me for being a weakling be- 
 cause I obeyed my father in everything — that I need 
 yield to no one. I could not have borne to be van- 
 quished before her and I flung the heathen to the ground 
 and slew him with my axe. I was only vaguely con- 
 scious of her presence, for during my severe struggle I 
 could see nothing but my adversary. But suddenly I 
 heard a loud scream, and Miriam sank bleeding close 
 before me. While I was kneeling over his comrade one 
 of the Blemmyes had crept up to me, and had flung his 
 lance at me from a few paces off. But Miriam — 
 Miriam — " 
 
 " She saved you at the cost of her own life," said Pe- 
 trus completing the lad's sentence, for at the recollection 
 of the occurrence his voice had failed and his eyes over- 
 flowed with tears. 
 
HOMO SUM. 283 
 
 Hermas nodded assent, and then added softly: 
 
 " She threw up her arms and called my name as the 
 spear struck her. The eldest son of Obedianus pun- 
 ished the heathen that had done it, and I supported her 
 as she fell dying and took her curly head on my knees 
 and spoke her name; she opened her eyes once more, 
 and spoke mine softly and with indescribable tender- 
 ness. I had never thought that wild Miriam could 
 speak so sweetly, I was overcome with terrible grief, 
 and kissed her eyes and her lips. She looked at me 
 once more with a long, wide-open, blissful gaze, and 
 then she was dead." 
 
 " She was a heathen," said Dorothea, drying her eyes, 
 "but for such a death the Lord will forgive her much." 
 
 " I loved her dearly," said Marthana, " and will lay 
 my sweetest flowers on her grave. May I cut some 
 sprays from your blooming myrtle for a wreath ?" 
 
 "To-morrow, to-morrow, my child," replied Doro- 
 thea. "Now go to rest; it is already very late." 
 
 " Only let me stay till Antonius and Jethro come 
 back," begged the girl. 
 
 " I would willingly help you to find your son," said 
 Hermas, "and if you wish I will go to Raithu and 
 Klysma, and enquire among the fishermen. Had the 
 centurion — "and as he spoke the young soldier looked 
 down in some embarrassment, "had the centurion 
 found his fugitive wife of whom he was in pursuit with 
 Talib, the Amalekite, before he died ?" 
 
 "Sirona has not yet reappeared," replied Petrus, 
 " and perhaps — but just now you mentioned the name 
 of Paulus, who was so dear to you and your father. 
 Do you know that it was he who so shamelessly ruined 
 the domestic peace of the centurion ?" 
 
284 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " Paul us!" cried Hermas. "How can you believe 
 it?" 
 
 " Phoebicius found his sheepskin in his wife's room," 
 replied Petrus gravely. "And the impudent Alexan- 
 drian recognized it as his own before us all and allowed 
 the Gaul to punish him. He committed the disgraceful 
 deed the very evening that you were sent off to gain in- 
 telligence." 
 
 "And Phcebicius flogged him ? " cried Hermas beside 
 himself. "And the poor fellow bore this disgrace and 
 your blame, and all — all for my sake. Now I under- 
 stand what he meant ! I met him after the battle and he 
 told me that my father was dead. When he parted 
 from me, he said he was of all sinners the greatest, and 
 that I should hear it said down in the oasis. But I 
 know better; he is great-hearted and good, and I will 
 not bear that he should be disgraced and slandered for 
 my sake." Hermas had sprung up with these words, 
 and as he met the astonished gaze of his hosts, he tried 
 to collect himself, and said : 
 
 " Paulus never even saw Sirona, and I repeat it, if 
 there is a man who may boast off being good and pure 
 and quite without sin, it is he. For me, and to save me 
 from punishment and my father from sorrow, he owned 
 a sin that he never committed. Such a deed is just 
 like him — the brave — faithful friend! But such shame- 
 ful suspicion and disgrace shall not weigh upon him a 
 moment longer!" 
 
 "You are speaking to an older man," said Petrus 
 angrily interrupting the youth's vehement speech. 
 "Your friend acknowledged with his own lips — " 
 
 "Then he told a lie out of pure goodness," Hermas 
 insisted. "The sheepskin that the Gaul found was 
 
HOMO SUM. 285 
 
 mine. I had gone to Sirona, while her husband was 
 sacrificing to Mithras, to fetch some wine for my father, 
 and she allowed me to try on the centurion's armor; 
 when he unexpectedly returned I leaped out into the 
 street and forgot that luckless sheepskin. Paulus met 
 me as I fled, and said he would set it all right, and sent 
 me away — to take my place and save my father a great 
 trouble. Look at me as severely as you will, Dorothea, 
 but it was only in thoughtless folly that I slipped into 
 the Gaul's house that evening, and by the memory of 
 my father — of whom heaven has this day bereft me — 
 I swear that Sirona only amused herself with me as 
 with a boy, a child, and even refused to let me kiss her 
 beautiful golden hair. As surely as I hope to become 
 a warrior, and as surely as my father's spirit hears what 
 I say, the guilt that Paulus took upon himself was nev- 
 er committed at all, and when you condemned Sirona 
 you did an injustice, for she never broke her faith to her 
 husband for me, nor still less for Paulus." 
 
 Petrus and Dorothea exchanged a meaning glance, 
 and Dorothea said: 
 
 "Why have we to learn all this from the lips of a 
 stranger? It sounds very extraordinary, and yet how 
 simple! Aye, husband, it would have become us better 
 to guess something of this than to doubt Sirona. From 
 the first it certainly seemed to me impossible that that 
 handsome woman, for whom quite different people had 
 troubled themselves should err for this queer beggar — " 
 
 "What cruel injustice has fallen on the poor man!" 
 cried Petrus. " If he had boasted of some noble deed, 
 we should indeed have been less ready to give him 
 credence." 
 
 "We are suffering heavy punishment," sighed Doro- 
 
286 HOMO SUM. 
 
 thea, "and my heart is bleeding. Why did you not 
 come to us, Hermas, if you wanted wine ? How much 
 suffering would have been spared if you had!" 
 
 The lad looked down, and was silent; but soon he 
 recollected himself, and said eagerly: 
 
 "Let me go and seek the hapless Paulus; I return 
 you thanks for your kindness but I cannot bear to stay 
 here any longer. I must go back to the mountain." 
   The senator and his wife did not detain him, and 
 when the court-yard gate had closed upon him a great 
 stillness reigned in Petrus' sitting-room. Dorothea 
 leaned far back in her seat and sat looking in her lap 
 while the tears rolled over her cheeks; Marthana held 
 her hand and stroked it, and the senator stepped to the 
 window and sighed deeply as he looked down into the 
 dark court. Sorrow lay on all their hearts like a heavy 
 leaden burden. All was still in the spacious room, only 
 now and then a loud, long-drawn cry of the wailing 
 women rang through the quiet night and reached them 
 through the open window ; it was a heavy hour, rich in 
 vain, but silent self-accusation, in anxiety, and short 
 prayers; poor in hope or consolation. 
 
 Presently Petrus heaved a deep sigh, and Dorothea 
 rose to go up to him and to say to him some sincere 
 word of affection; but just then the dogs in the yard 
 barked, and the agonized father said softly — in deep de- 
 jection, and prepared for the worst: 
 
 "Most likely it is they." 
 
 The deaconess pressed his hand in hers, but drew 
 back when a light tap was heard at the court-yard gate. 
 
 "It is not Jethro and Antonius." said Petrus, 
 "they have a key." 
 
 Marthana had gone up to him, and she clung to 
 
HOMO SUM. 287 
 
 him as he leaned far out of the window and called to 
 whoever it was that had tapped: 
 
 " Who is that knocking ? " 
 
 The dogs barked so loud that neither the senator 
 nor the women were able to hear the answer which 
 seemed to be returned. 
 
 "Listen to Argus," said Dorothea, "he never howls 
 like that, but when you come home or one of us, or 
 when he is pleased." 
 
 Petrus laid his finger on his lips and sounded a clear, 
 shrill whistle, and as the dogs, obedient to this signal, 
 were silent, he once more called out, "Whoever you 
 may be, say plainly who you are, that I may open the 
 gate." 
 
 They were kept waiting some few minutes for the 
 answer, and the senator was on the point of repeating 
 his enquiry, when a gentle voice timidly came from the 
 gate to the window, saying, "It is I, Petrus, the fugitive 
 Sirona." Hardly had the words tremulously pierced 
 the silence, when Marthana broke from her father, 
 whose hand was resting on her shoulder, and flew out 
 of the door, down the steps and out to the gate. 
 
 "Sirona; poor, dear Sirona," cried the girl as she 
 pushed back the bolt; as soon as she had opened the 
 door and Sirona had entered the court, she threw her- 
 self on her neck, and kissed and stroked her as if she 
 were her long lost sister found again; then, without 
 allowing her to speak, she seized her hand and drew 
 her — in spite of the slight resistance she offered — with 
 many affectionate exclamations up the steps and into 
 the sitting-room. Petrus and Dorothea met her on the 
 threshold, and the latter pressed her to her heart, kissed 
 her forehead and said, "Poor woman: we know now 
 
288 HOMO SUM. 
 
 that we have done you an injustice, and will try to 
 make it good." The senator too went up to her, took 
 her hand and added his greetings to those of his wife, 
 for he knew not whether she had as yet heard of her 
 husband's end. 
 
 Sirona could not find a word in reply. She had ex- 
 pected to be expelled as a castaway when she came 
 down the mountain, losing her way in the darkness. 
 Her sandals were cut by the sharp rocks, and hung in 
 strips to her bleeding feet, her beautiful hair was tum- 
 bled by the night-wind, and her white robe looked like 
 a ragged beggar's garment, for she had torn it to make 
 bandages for Polykarp's wound. 
 
 Some hours had already passed since she had left 
 her patient — her heart full of dread for him and of 
 anxiety as to the hard reception she might meet with 
 from his parents. 
 
 How her hand shook with fear of Petrus and Doro- 
 thea as she raised the brazen knocker of the senator's 
 door, and now — a father, a mother, a sister opened 
 their arms to her, and an affectionate home smiled upon 
 her. Her heart and soul overflowed with boundless 
 emotion and unlimited thankfulness, and weeping 
 loudly, she pressed her clasped hands to her breast. 
 
 But she spared only a few moments for the enjoy- 
 ment of these feelings of delight, for there was no hap- 
 piness for her without Polykarp, and it was for his sake 
 that she had undertaken this perilous night-journey. 
 Marthana had tenderly approached her, but she gently 
 put her aside, saying, " Not just now, dear girl. I have 
 already wasted an hour, for I lost my way in the 
 ravines. Get ready Petrus to come back to the moun- 
 tain with me at once, for — but do not be startled Doro- 
 
HOMO SUM. 289 
 
 thea, Paulus says that the worst danger is over, and if 
 Polykarp — " 
 
 "For God's sake, do you know where he is?" cried 
 Dorothea, and her cheeks crimsoned while Petrus turned 
 pale, and, interrupting her, asked in breathless anxiety, 
 " Where is Polykarp, and what has happened to him ? " 
 
 " Prepare yourself to hear bad news," said Sirona, 
 looking at the pair with mournful anxiety as if to crave 
 their pardon for the evil tidings she was obliged to 
 bring. " Polykarp had a fall on a sharp stone and so 
 wounded his head. Paulus brought him to me this 
 morning before he set out against the Blemmyes, that I 
 might nurse him. I have incessantly cooled his wound, 
 and towards mid-day he opened his eyes and knew me 
 again, and said you would be anxious about him. 
 After sundown he went to sleep, but he is not wholly 
 free from fever, and as soon as Paulus came in I set out 
 to quiet your anxiety and to entreat you to give me a 
 cooling potion, that I may return to him with it at 
 once." The deepest sorrow sounded in Sirona's ac- 
 cents as she told her story, and tears had started to her 
 eyes as she related to the parents what had befallen 
 their son. Petrus and Dorothea listened as to a singer, 
 who, dressed indeed in robes of mourning, nevertheless 
 sings a lay of return and hope to a harp wreathed with 
 flowers. 
 
 " Quick, quick, Marthana," cried Dorothea eagerly 
 and with sparkling eyes, before Sirona had ended. 
 " Quick, the basket with the bandages. I will mix the 
 fever-draught myself." Petrus went up to the Gaulish 
 woman. 
 
 "It is really no worse than you represent?" he 
 asked in a low voice. "He is alive? and Paulus — " 
 
290 HOMO SUM. 
 
 " Paulus says," interrupted Sirona, " that with good 
 nursing the sick man will be well in a few weeks." 
 
 "And you can lead me to him?" 
 
 "I — oh, alas! alas!" Sirona cried, striking her hand 
 against her forehead. " I shall never succeed in finding 
 my way back, for I noticed no way-marks! But stay — 
 Before us a penitent from Memphis, who has been 
 dead a few weeks — " 
 
 "Old Serapion?" asked Petrus. 
 
 "That was his name," exclaimed Sirona. "Do you 
 know his cave?" 
 
 "How should I?" replied Petrus. "But perhaps 
 Agapitus — " 
 
 "The spring where I got the water to cool Poly- 
 karp's wound, Paulus calls the partridge's-spring." 
 
 "The partridge's-spring," repeated the senator, "I 
 know that." With a deep sigh he took his staff, and 
 called to Dorothea, " Do you prepare the draught, the 
 bandages, torches, and your good litter, while I knock 
 at our neighbor Magadon's door, and ask him to lend 
 us slaves." 
 
 " Let me go with you," said Marthana. 
 
 "No, no; you stay here with your mother." 
 
 "And do you think that I can wait here?" asked 
 Dorothea. "I am going with you." 
 
 " There is much here for you to do," replied Petrus 
 evasively, "and we must climb the hill quickly." 
 
 " I should certainly delay you," sighed the mother, 
 "but take the girl with you; she has a light and lucky 
 hand." 
 
 " If you think it best," said the senator, and he left 
 the room. 
 
 While the mother and daughter prepared everything 
 
HOMO SUM. 291 
 
 for the night-expedition, and came and went, they found 
 time to put many questions and say many affectionate 
 words to Sirona. Marthana, even without interrupting 
 her work, set food and drink for the weary woman on 
 the table by which she had sunk on a seat; but she 
 hardly moistened her lips. 
 
 When the young girl showed her the basket that 
 she had filled with medicine and linen bandages, with 
 wine and pure water, Sirona said, " Now lend me a pair 
 of your strongest sandals, for mine are all torn, and I 
 cannot follow the men without shoes, for the stones are 
 sharp, and cut into che flesh." 
 
 Marthana now perceived for the first time the blood 
 on her friend's feet, she quickly took the lamp from the 
 table and placed it on the pavement, exclaiming, as she 
 knelt down in front of Sirona and took her slender 
 white feet in her hand to look at the wounds on the 
 soles, "Good heavens! here are three deep cuts!" 
 
 In a moment she had a basin at hand, and was care- 
 fully bathing the wounds in Sirona's feet; while she was 
 wrapping the injured foot in strips of linen Dorothea 
 came up to them. 
 
 "I would," she said, "that Polykarp were only here 
 now, this roll would suffice to bind you both." A faint 
 flush overspread Sirona's cheeks, but Dorothea was 
 suddenly conscious of what she had said, and Marthana 
 gently pressed her friend's hand. 
 
 When the bandage was securely fixed, Sirona at- 
 tempted to walk, but she succeeded so badly that 
 Petrus, who now came back with his friend Magadon 
 and his sons, and several slaves, found it necessary co 
 strictly forbid her to accompany them. Ke felt sure of 
 finding his son without her, for one of Magadon's 
 
292 HOMO SUM 
 
 people had often carried bread and oil to old Serapion 
 and knew his cave. 
 
 Before the senator and his daughter left the room 
 he whispered a few words to his wife, and together they 
 went up to Sirona. 
 
 "Do you know," he asked, "what has happened to 
 to your husband ?" 
 
 Sirona nodded. "I heard it from Paulus," she 
 answered. " Now I am quite alone in the world." 
 
 "Not so," replied Petrus. "You will find shelter 
 and love under our roof as if it were your father's, so 
 long as it suits you to stay with us. You need not 
 thank us — we are deeply in your debt. Farewell till 
 we meet again wife. I would Polykarp were safe here, 
 and that you had seen his wound. Come, Marthana, 
 the minutes are precious." 
 
 When Dorothea and Sirona were alone, the deacon- 
 ess said, " Now I will go and make up a bed for you, 
 for you must be very tired." 
 
 " No, no !" begged Sirona. " I will wait and watch 
 with you, for I certainly could not sleep till I know 
 how it is with him." She spoke so warmly and eagerly 
 that the deaconess gratefully offered her hand to her 
 young friend. Then she said, " I will leave you alone 
 for a few minutes, for my heart is so full of anxiety that 
 I must needs go and pray for help for him, and for 
 courage and strength for myself." 
 
 "Take me with you," entreated Sirona in a low 
 tone. " In my need I opened my heart to your good 
 and loving God, and I will never more pray to any 
 other. The mere thought of Him strengthened and 
 comforted me, and now, if ever, in this hour I need His 
 merciful support." 
 
HOMO SUM. 293 
 
 "My child, my daughter!" cried the deaconess, 
 deeply moved; she bent over Sirona, kissed her fore- 
 head and her lips, and led her by the hand into her 
 quiet sleeping-room. 
 
 "This is the place where I most love to pray," she 
 said, "although there is here no image and no altar. 
 My God is everywhere present and in every place I can 
 find Him." 
 
 The two women knelt down side by side, and both 
 besought the same God for the same mercies — not for 
 themselves, but for another; and both in their sorrow 
 could give thanks — Sirona, because in Dorothea she 
 had found a mother, and Dorothea, because in Sirona 
 she had found a dear and loving daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Paulus was sitting in front of the cave that had 
 sheltered Polykarp and Sirona, and he watched the 
 torches whose light lessened as the bearers went farther 
 and farther towards the valley. They lighted the way 
 for the wounded sculptor, who was being borne home 
 to the oasis, lying in his mother's easy litter, and ac- 
 companied by his father and his sister. 
 
 "Yet an hour," thought the anchorite, "and the 
 mother will have her son again, yet a week and Poly- 
 karp will rise from his bed, yet a year and he will re- 
 member nothing of yesterday but a scar — and perhaps 
 a kiss that he pressed on the Gaulish woman's rosy lips. 
 I shall find it harder to forget. The ladder which for 
 so many years I had labored to construct, on which I 
 
294 HOMO SUM. 
 
 thought to scale heaven, and which looked to me so 
 lofty and so safe, there it lies broken to pieces, and the 
 hand that struck it down was my own weakness. It 
 would almost seem as if this weakness of mine had 
 more power than what we call moral strength., for that 
 which it took the one years to build up, was wrecked 
 by the other in a moment. In weakness only am I a 
 giant." 
 
 Paulus shivered at these words, for he was cold. 
 Early in that morning when he had taken upon himself 
 Hennas' guilt he had abjured wearing his sheepskin; 
 now his body, accustomed to the warm wrap, suffered 
 severely, and his blood coursed with fevered haste 
 through his veins since the efforts, night-watches, and 
 excitement of the last few days. He drew his little 
 coat close around him with a shiver and muttered, " I 
 feel like a sheep that has been shorn in midwinter, and 
 my head burns as if I were a baker and had to draw the 
 bread out of the oven; a child might knock me down, 
 and my eyes are heavy. I have not even the energy to 
 collect my thoughts for a prayer, of which I am in such 
 sore need. My goal is undoubtedly the right one, but 
 so soon as I seem to be n earing it, my weakness snatch- 
 es it from me, as the wind swept back the fruit-laden 
 boughs which Tantalus, parched with thirst, tried to 
 grasp. I fled from the world to this mountain, and the 
 world has pursued me and has flung its snares round 
 my feet. I must seek a lonelier waste in which I may 
 be alone — quite alone with my God and myself. There, 
 perhaps I may find the way I seek, if indeed the fact 
 that the creature that I call "I," in which the whole 
 world with all its agitations in little finds room — and 
 which will accompany me even there — does not once 
 
HOMO SUM. 295 
 
 again frustrate all my labor. He who takes his Self with 
 him into the desert, is not alone." 
 
 Paulus sighed deeply and then pursued his reflec- 
 tions : "How puffed up with pride I was after I had 
 tasted the Gaul's rods in place of Hermas, and then I 
 was like a drunken man who falls down stairs step by 
 step. And poor Stephanus too had a fall when he was 
 so near the goal ! He failed in strength to forgive, and 
 the senator who has just now left me, and whose innocent 
 son I had so badly hurt, when we parted forgivingly 
 gave me his hand. I could see that he did forgive me 
 with all his heart, and this Petrus stands in the midst 
 of life, and is busy early and late with mere worldly 
 affairs." 
 
 For a time he looked thoughtfully before him, and 
 then he went on in his soliloquy, " What was the story 
 that old Serapion used to tell? In the Theba'id there 
 dwelt a penitent who thought he led a perfectly saintly 
 life and far transcended all his companions in stern vir- 
 tue. Once he dreamed that there was in Alexandria a 
 man even more perfect than himself; Phabis was his 
 name, and he was a shoemakei, dwelling in the White 
 road near the harbor of Kibotos. The anchorite at 
 once went to the capital and found the shoemaker, and 
 when he asked him, 'How do you serve the Lord? 
 How do you conduct your life ? ' Phabis looked at him 
 in astonishment. 'I? well, my Saviour! I work early 
 and late, and provide for my family, and pray morning 
 and evening in few words for the whole city.' Petrus> 
 it seems to me, is such an one as Phabis; but many 
 roagls lead to God, and we — and I — " 
 
 Again a cold shiver interrupted his meditation, and 
 as morning approached the cold was so keen that he en- 
 
296 HOMO SUM. 
 
 deavored to light a fire. While he was painfully blow- 
 ing the charcoal Hernias came up to him. 
 
 He had learned from Polykarp's escort where Pau- 
 lus was to be found, and as he stood opposite his friend 
 he grasped his hand, stroked his rough hair and thanked 
 him with deep and tender emotion for the great sacrifice 
 he had made for him when he had taken upon himself 
 the dishonoring punishment of his fault. 
 
 Paulus declined all pity or thanks, and spoke to 
 Hermas of his father and of his future, until it was 
 light, and the young man prepared to go down to the 
 oasis to pay the last honors to the dead. To his en- 
 treaty that he would accompany him, Paulus only an- 
 swered : 
 
 "No — no; not now, not now; for if I were to mix 
 with men now I should fly asunder like a rotten wine- 
 skin full of fermenting wine; a swarm of bees is buzzing 
 in my head, and an ant-hill is growing in my bosom. 
 Go now and leave me alone." 
 
 After the funeral ceremony Hermas took an affec- 
 tionate leave of Agapitus, Petrus, and Dorothea, and 
 then returned to the Alexandrian, with whom he went 
 to the cave where he had so long lived with his dead 
 father. 
 
 There Paulus delivered to him his father's letter to 
 his uncle, and spoke to him more lovingly than he had 
 ever done before. At night they both lay down on 
 their beds, but neither of them found rest or sleep. 
 
 From time to time Paulus murmured in a low voice, 
 but in tones of keen anguish, "In vain — all in vain — " 
 and again, "I seek, I seek — but who can show me the 
 way ?" 
 
 They both rose before daybreak; Hermas went 
 
HOMO SUM. 297 
 
 once more down to the well, knelt down near it, and 
 felt as though he were bidding farewell to his father and 
 Miriam. 
 
 Memories of every kind rose up in his soul, and so 
 mighty is the glorifying power of love that the misera- 
 ble, brown-skinned shepherdess Miriam seemed to him 
 a thousand-fold more beautiful than that splendid 
 woman who filled the soul of a great artist with 
 delight. 
 
 Shortly after sunrise Paulus conducted him to the 
 fishing-port, and to the Israelite friend who managed 
 the business of his father's house; he caused him to be 
 bountifully supplied with gold and accompanied him to 
 the ship laden with charcoal, that was to convey him 
 to Klysma. 
 
 The parting was very painful to him, and when 
 Hermas saw his eyes full of tears and felt his hands 
 tremble, he said, "Do not be troubled about me, 
 Paulus; we shall meet again, and I will never forget you 
 and my father." 
 
 "And your mother," added the anchorite. "I shall 
 miss you sorely, but trouble is the very thing I look 
 for. He who succeeds in making the sorrows of the 
 whole world his own — he whose soul is touched by a 
 sorrow at every breath he draws — he indeed must long 
 for the call of the Redeemer." 
 
 Hermas fell weeping on his neck and started to feel 
 how burning the anchorite's lips were as he pressed 
 them to his forehead. 
 
 At last the sailors drew in the ropes; Paulus turned 
 once more to the youth. "You are going your own 
 way now," he said. Do not forget the Holy Mountain, 
 and hear this: Of all sins three are most deadly: To 
 
298 HOMO SUM. 
 
 serve false gods, to covet your neighbor's wife, and to 
 raise your hands to kill; keep yourself from them. And 
 of all virtues two are the least conspicuous, and at the 
 same time the greatest: Truthfulness and humility, 
 practise these. Of all consolations these two are the 
 best: The consciousness of wishing the right however 
 much we may err and stumble through human weak- 
 ness, and prayer." 
 
 Once more he embraced the departing youth, then 
 he went across the sand of the shore back to the moun- 
 tain without looking round. 
 
 Hermas looked after him for a long time greatly 
 distressed, for his strong friend tottered like a drunken 
 man, and often pressed his hand to his head which was 
 no doubt as burning as his lips. 
 
 The young warrior never again saw the Holy Moun- 
 tain or Paulus, but after he himself had won fame and 
 distinction in the army he met again with Petrus' son, 
 Polykarp, whom the emperor had sent for to Byzan- 
 tium with great honor, and in whose house the Gaulish 
 woman Sirona presided as a true and loving wife and 
 mother. 
 
 After his parting from Hermas, Paulus disappeared. 
 The other anchorites long sought him in vain, as well 
 as bishop Agapitus, who had learned from Petrus that 
 the Alexandrian had been punished and expelled in 
 innocence, and who desired to offer him pardon and 
 consolation in his own person. At last, ten days after, 
 Orion the Saite found him in a remote cave. The angel 
 of death had called him only a few hours before while 
 in the act of prayer, for he was scarcely cold. He 
 was kneeling with his forehead against the rocky wall 
 and his emaciated hands were closely clasped over Mag- 
 
HOMO SUM. 299 
 
 dalena's ring. When his companions had laid him on 
 his bier his noble, gentle features wore a pure and 
 transfiguring smile. 
 
 The news of his death flew with wonderful rapidity- 
 through the oasis and the fishing-town, and far and 
 wide to the caves of the anchorites, and even to the 
 huts of the Amalekite shepherds. The procession that 
 followed him to his last resting-place stretched to an in- 
 visible distance ; in front of all walked Agapitus with the 
 elders and deacons, and behind them Petrus with his 
 wife and family, to which Sirona now belonged. Poly- 
 karp, who was now recovering, laid a palm-branch in 
 token of reconcilement on his grave, which was visited 
 as a sacred spot by the many whose needs he had al- 
 leviated in secret, and before long by all the penitents 
 from far and wide. 
 
 Petrus erected a monument over his grave, on which 
 Polykarp incised the words which Paulus' trembling 
 fingers had traced just before his death with a piece of 
 charcoal on the wall of his cave : 
 
 "Pray for me, a miserable man — for I was a man." 
 
 OF THE 
 
 1 UNIVERSITY 
 
 THE - 
 
GEORG EBERS 
 
 ROMANCES 8c BIOGRAPHIES 
 
 COMPRISING I 
 
 AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS, 
 
 TWO VOLUMES 
 
 THE BRIDE OF THE NILE, 
 
 TWO VOLUMES 
 
 THE BURGOMASTER'S WIFE, 
 
 ONE VOLUME 
 
 SERAPIS, THE EMPEROR, 
 
 ONE VOLUME TWO VOLUMES 
 
 UARDA, HOMO SUM, 
 
 TWO VOLUMES ONE VOLUME 
 
 THE SISTERS, 4 QUESTION, 
 
 ONE VOLUME ONE VOLUME 
 
 A WORD, ONLY A WORD, 
 
 ONE VOLUME 
 
 LORENZ ALMA-TADEMA, 
 
 ONE VOLUME 
 
 RICHARD LEPSIUS, 
 
 ONE VOLUME 
 
 Romances, 14 volumes, cloth, in case, ------ $11 00 
 
 M and Biographies, 16 volumes, cloth, in case, 13 00 
 " w " M half calf extra, incase, 32 00 
 
THE MARTYR OF GOLGOTHA, by Enrique 
 Perez Escrich, from the Spanish by Adele Josephine 
 Godoy, in two volumes. Price, paper covers, $1.00. Cloth 
 binding, $1.75. 
 
 " There must always be some difference of opinion concern- 
 ing the right of the romancer to treat of sacred events and to in- 
 troduce sacred personages into his story. Some hold that any attempt 
 to embody an idea of our Saviour's character, experiences, sayings 
 and teachings in the form of fiction must have the effect of lower- 
 ing our imaginative ideal, and rendering trivial and common-place 
 that which in the real Gospel is spontaneous, inspired and sublime. 
 But to others an historical novel like the ' Martyr of Golgotha' 
 comes like a revelation, opening fresh vistas of thought, filling out 
 blanks and making clear what had hitherto been vague and unsat- 
 isfactory, quickening insight and sympathy, and actually heighten- 
 ing the conception of divine traits. The author gives also a wide 
 survey of the general history of the epoch and shows the various 
 shaping causes which were influencing the rise and development 
 of the new religion in Palestine. There is, indeed, an astonishing 
 vitality and movement throughout the work, and, elaborate though 
 the plot is, with all varieties and all contrasts of people and con- 
 ditions, with constant shiftings of the scene, the story yet moves, 
 and moves the interest of the reader too, along the rapid current 
 of events towards the powerful culmination. The writer uses the 
 Catholic traditions, and in many points interprets the story in a 
 way which differs altogether from that familiar to Protestants : for 
 example, making Mary Magdalen the same Mary who was the 
 sister of Lazarus and Martha, and who sat listening at the Saviour's 
 feet. But in general, although there is a free use made of Catho- 
 lic legends and traditions, their effort is natural and pleasing. The 
 romance shows a degree of a southern fervor which is foreign to 
 English habit, but the flowery, poetic style — although it at first 
 repels the reader — is so individual, so much a part of the author, 
 that it is soon accepted as the naive expression of a mind kindled 
 and carried away by its subject, Spanish literature has of late 
 given us a variety of novels and romances, all of which are in their 
 way so good that we must believe that there is a new generation of 
 writers in Spain who are discarding the worn-out forms and tra- 
 ditions, and are putting fresh lite and energy into works which 
 will give pleasure to the whole world of readers. " — Philadelphia 
 American, March 5, 1887. 
 
 William S. Gottsberger, Ptiblisker, New York. 
 
WAR AND PEACE. A Historical Novel, by Count Leon 
 
 Tolstoi', translated into French by a Russian Lady and from the 
 
 French by Clara Bell. Authorized Edition. Complete, Three 
 
 Parts in Box. Paper, $3.00. Cloth, $5.25. 
 
 Part I. Before Tilsit, 1805 — 1807, in two volumes. Paper, $1.00. 
 
 Cloth, $1.75 per set. 
 
 «« U. The Invasion, 1807 — 1812 in two volumes. Paper, $1.00. 
 
 Cloth, $1.75 per set. 
 ^m. Borodino, The French at Moscow — Epilogue, 1812 — 1820, 
 in two volumes. Paper, $1.00. Cloth, $1.75 per set. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 "A story of Russia in the time of Napoleon's wars. It is a 
 story of the family rather than of the field, and is charming in its 
 delineations of quaint Russian customs. It is a novel of absorb- 
 ing interest, full of action and with a well managed plot; a 
 book well worth reading." — Philadelphia Enquirer. 
 
 "The story of 'War and Peace' ranks as the greatest of 
 Slavic historical novels. It is intensely dramatic in places and 
 the battle scenes are marvels of picturesque description. At 
 other points the vein is quiet and philosophical, and the reader 
 is held by the soothing charm that is in complete contrast with 
 the action and energy of battle." — Observer, Utica t N. Y. 
 
 "War and Peace is a historical novel and is extremely inter- 
 esting, not only in its description of the times of the great inva- 
 sion eighty years ago, but in its vivid pictures of life and character 
 in Russia." — Journal of Commerce, New York. 
 
 " On general principles the historical novel is neither valua- 
 ble as fact nor entertaining as fiction. But ' War and Peace' is 
 a striking exception to this rule. It deals with the most impres- 
 sive and dramatic period of European history. It reproduces a 
 living panorama of scene, and actors, and circumstance idealized 
 into the intense and artistic life of imaginative composition, and 
 written with a brilliancy of Style and epigrammatic play of 
 thought, a depth of significance, that render the story one of 
 the most fascinating and absorbing." — Boston Evening Traveller. 
 
 Wtn. S. Gottsberger, Publisher, New York. 
 
YB 528 
 
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