Homo sum, a novel;

<

COLLECTION

OF

GEE IAN AUTHORS.

VOL. 32.

HOMO SUM BY GEORG EBERS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

Homo sum : human! nil a me alienum puto.

Terence, Heautontimorumenos. 25.

HOMO SUM

A NOVEL.

GEORG EBERS,

AUTHOR OF "AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS," "UARDA," ETC.
FROM THE GERMAN BY

CLARA BELL.
IN TWO VOLUMES.— VOL. I.

Copyright Edition.

LEIPZI G 1878
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.

LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE &RIVINGTON.

CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.

PARIS: C. REIXWALD, 15, RUE DBS SAINTS PERES; THE GALIGNANI

LIBRARY, 22-1, RUE DE RFVOLI.

JL

TO

ALMA TADEMA, A. R. A.

THE GREAT MASTER OF PICTORAL REPRESENTATION
OF THE LIFE OF THE ANCIENTS

THIS TALE IS DEDICATED
WITH SINCERE REGARD BY

THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

IN the course of my labours 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 ne-
cessary to work through and sift for my strictly
limited object, I came upon a narrative (in
Cotelerius Ecclesiae Grecae Monumenta) which
seemed to me peculiar and touching notwith-
standing its improbability. Sinai and the oasis
of Pharan which lies at its foot were the scene
of action.

When, in my journey through Arabia Pe-
traea, I saw the caves of the anchorites of Sinai

Homo Sutn. I. I

2 PREFACE.

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 con-
fession of the real culprit.

There was a peculiar fascination in imagin-
ing what the emotions of a soul might be which
could lead to such apathy (anadeia), 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

PREFACE. 3

round it, 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
perfect conception in my mind as ripe material
for a romance — by my readings in Coptic monk-
ish 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 Weingarten. My acute fellow-
labourer 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.

4 PREFACE.

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 onlyjieathen re-
cluses (tyxexleiotisvot) in the temples of Serapis
but also Christian anchorites; I fully agree
with him that the beginnings of organised
Christian monasticism can in no case be dated
earlier than the year 350.

The Paulus of my story must not be con-
founded with the "first hermit," Paulus of Thebes,
whom Weingarten 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 particular
model for my hero, and I claim for him no
attribute but that of his having been possible

PREFACE. 5

at the period ; least of all did I think of Saint
Anthony, who is now deprived even of his dis-
tinguished biographer Athanasius, and who is re-
presented 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 al-
ready kindled at the time of my story I have,
on careful consideration, 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 trans-
port the reader 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 Transfiguration
lies at its foot, and it has been commonly
accepted as the Sinai of Scripture. In the de-
scription of my journey through Arabia Petraea

-O PREFACE.

I have endeavoured 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 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

PREFACE. 7

outcome of my studies in forms of flesh and
blood ; I have aimed at absolutely nothing but
to give artistic expression to the vivid realisa-
tion of an idea that had deeply stirred my soul.
The simple figures whose inmost being I have
endeavoured to reveal to the reader fill the can-
vas 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 neighbour Menedemus
(Act i, Sc. i, v. 25) :

"Homo sum; humani nil a me alienum puto,"
which Donner translates literally:

$ PREFACE.

"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 trans-
cends that which it would seem to convey in
context with the passage whence it is taken;
and as I coincide with them, I have trans-
ferred 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 n, 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.

10 HOMO SUM.

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 beginning of the thirtieth
year of the fourth century after the birth of the
Saviour, and away to the mountains of 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 connection 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 pierc-
ing rays of the sun of those latitudes ; it seems
only to protect the roots of the tree itself; still

HOMO SUM. II

the feathered boughs are strong enough to sup-
port a small thread-bare blue cloth, which pro-
jects like a penthouse, screening the face of
a girl who lies dreaming, stretched at full-
length on the glowing 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 herdsman'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 shep-
herdess 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

12 HOMO SUM.

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 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 expectation; 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,

HOMO SUM. 13

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 aud-
ible.

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, and yet no one would have taken

14 HOMO SUM.

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 forehead the superabundant and unkempt
brown hair that flowed round his head like a
lion's mane; then he approached 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,

HOMO SUM. 15

"Am I a dog that you wake me in this
fashion?"

He coloured, 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,

"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 youthful 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,

16 HOMO SUM.

"Back, demon, back! In the name of the
Lord! I ask thee, who art thou?"

"I am Miriam — who else should I be?" she
answered haughtily.

He had expected a different reply, her
vivacity annoyed 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 coloured; 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 miserable girl; 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

HOMO SUM. 17

mobile than her features. "Phoh! you are
stronger and taller than all the Amalekite lads
down there, but you never try to measure your-
self 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

Homo Sum. I.

1 8 HOMO SUM.

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 ex-
cited indignation. "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, 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 trem-
bling lips and a smothered voice, "What harm
have I done you?"

HOMO SUM. 19

"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

3*

20 HOMO SUM.

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 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
Miriam. "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 denies you its blessing."

"No — no, a thousand times no!" cried Mi-
riam. "No god has ever troubled himself about
me. And if I am not good, why should I
be when nothing but evil ever has fallen to my
share? Do you know who I am and how I be-

HOMO SUM. 21

came 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 I still very
well remember that there were many camels
grazing near our house, and horses too that be-
longed 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 be-
come 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 my-
self 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 Fetrus and your Paulus there say

22 HOMO SUM.

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 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 distortion.

Hermas felt compassion for the weeping
Miriam. He had met her a hundred times and
she had shown herself now haughty, now discon-
tented, 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
character a value which it had never before had
in his eyes, and when he saw her weak and un-
happy 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

HOMO SUM. 23

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 he 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 were crying or laugh-
ing while she let his hand rest on her black
waving hair.

She did not move. At last she raised her
head, her eyes 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 name-
less anguish seized him; he tore himself vio-
lently free, and with a loud cry as if all the

24 HOMO SUM.

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
neighbourhood 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

HOMO SUM. 25

had disappeared behind the sacred mountain,
and the glow in the west had paled.

All around was as still as death, she could
hear herself breathe, and as the evening chill
fell she shuddered with cold.

She now heard a loud noise above her head.
A flock 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 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 im-
pulse, she was on the point of leaving to make
way for the animals, when she suddenly recol-
lected 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 scuttered away, and then, with
her head sunk, she led her flock home, feeling
her way in the darkness with her bare feet,

26 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER II.

HIGH above the ravine where the spring was
lay a level plateau of moderate extent, and be-
hind it rose a fissured cliff of bare, red-brown
porphyry. A vein of diorite of iron-hardness lay
at its foot like a green ribbon, 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 Hermas 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 divided the two beds of dried mountain
herbs where, on one, slept the father, and, on
the other, the son.

HOMO SUM. 27

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 weakness, 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 prolong 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

28 HOMO SUM.

Hebrew, who hid himself when they came to
him with the crown! My wound burns pain-
fully ; 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 shiver-
ing 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, 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
Stephanus, "my wound burns intolerably,"

HOMO SUM. 29

Hermas rose at once, and reached the water-
jar to the sufferer.

"Thanks, thanks, my child," said the old
man, feeling 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
man gravely. "Unclean spirits flee at the name
of God."

"I have called upon Him," sighed Hennas,

30 HOMO SUM.

"but in vain; I see women with ruddy lips and
flowing hair, and white marble figures with
rounded limbs and flashing eyes beckon to me
again and again."

"Then take the scourge," ordered the father,
"and so win peace."

Hermas once more obediently rose, and
went out into the air with the scourge; 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

HOMO SUM. 31

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; then the tempter will
come to you, and all the splendours of the great
city, which after all only shine like rotten
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 Ste-
phanus, "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 go of my hand ; the night will soon be past,

32 HOMO SUM.

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 de-
fiance 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. I am not far from the
day that no evening ever closes. Kneel down
here, and let me kiss the image of the Cruci-
fied."

HOMO SUM. 33

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 fearfully."

The new comer, an anchorite, who for all
clothing wore a shirt-shaped coat of brown un-
dressed linen, and a sheep-skin, examined the
wound carefully, and laid some herbs on it,
murmuring meanwhile some pious texts.

"That is much easier," sighed the old man.
"The Lord has mercy on me for your good-
ness' sake."

"My goodness? I am a vessel of wrath,"
replied Paulus, with a deep, rich, sonorous voice,
and his peculiarly 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,

Hfftne Sum. I. 3

34 HOMO SUM.

"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
Stephanus.

"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 Hermas 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

HOMO SUM. 35

as the exceptionally big man looked in his
sheep-skin, there was such irresistible kindliness
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 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 skeep-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 break-
fast— 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—"

3*

36 HOMO SUM.

"I should soon have forgotten it," inter-
rupted the other. "I have to thank the careless
fellow, for I have now for the first time dis-
covered 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 war-
ring against my own welfare, if I required it
back. God be praised! the craftiest 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.

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

HOMO SUM. 37

our actions there would be no sins com-
mitted."

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 my-
self hardly enough."

"That was quite right, for you deserved a
flogging for a misconducted boy."

Hermas look defiantly at his reproving
friend, the flaming colour mounted to his cheek :
for he remembered the shepherdess's words
that he might go and complain to his nurse,
and he cried out angrily,

"I will not let any one speak to me so; I
am no longer a child."

"Not even your father's?" asked Paulus, and
he looked at the boy with such an astonished
and enquiring air, that Hermas turned away his
eyes in confusion,

38 HOMO SUM.

l

"It is not right at any rate to trouble the
last remnant 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, and for all the
poor and the vile. Love is at once the easiest
and the most difficult of attainments. It re-
quires sacrifice. And you? How long is it
now since you last showed your father a cheer-
ful countenance?"

"I cannot be a hypocrite."

HOMO SUM. 39

"Nor need you, but you must love. Cer-
tainly it is not by what his hand does but by
what his heart cheerfully 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 thinking 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
Hermas, 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," an-
swered Hermas evasively. "You were born

40 HOMO SUM.

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 nothing 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 ? "

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 un-
derstand 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 thou-
sand 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,

ing

HOMO SUM. 41

"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 beautiful?" cried Hermas hastily. "Why
may Christians even visit the baths in Alexan-
dria, 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," an-
swered Paulus, "and for him we cleanse and
beautify our souls."

"But the Lord gave us our body too," inter-
rupted Hermas. "It is written that man is the
image of God. And we! I appeared to my-
self 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
cleanliness and purification. And as they went
past, and J looked at my mangy sheepfell, and

42 HOMO SUM.

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 I felt
as if some bitter drink were choking me. I
should have liked to howl out with shame and
envy and vexation. 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
interrupted 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 sincerely
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

HOMO SUM. 43

better than to bathe, and I, a poor wretch,
have been favoured with hours in which my
spirit has struggled free, and has been permitted
to share as an honoured guest in the festal joys
of Heaven!"

While he spoke, his wide open eyes had
turned towards 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."

Hermas well understood what the anchorite
meant, for his father often for hours at a time
gazed up into Heaven in prayer, neither seeing

44 HOMO SUM.

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 compelled 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 alto-
gether extinct after these deeply soul-stirring
exercises, and Hermas would gladly have for-
bidden him giving himself up to such hurtful
emotions, for he loved his father ; but they were
looked upon as special manifestations of grace,
and how should a son dare to express his aver-
sion 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, in-

HOMO SUM. 45

stead of desiring to enjoy its pleasures 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 unresist-
ingly 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 made no doubt, but what child
would kiss the image of his father, when the
father offers him his own living lips?"

Paulus had meant to say 'mother' instead
of 'father,' but he remembered in time that Her-
mas 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

46" HOMO SUM.

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 miser-
able selves, by so much is the contemplation
of Him worthier 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 per-
fectly absorbed in God! But it pursues us, and
when the soul fondly thinks itself already
blended 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 perishable
part of our being with bread and water and
slothful 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 any of its demands
that can easily be denied? Only he who de-
spises and sacrifices his wretched self can, when

HOMO SUM. 47

he has lost his baser self, by the Redeemer's
grace, find himself again in God."

Hermas had listened patiently to the an-
chorite, but he now shook his head, and said,

"I cannot understand either you or my
father. So long as I walk on this earth, I am
/ and no other. After death, no doubt, but
not till then, will a new and eternal life be-
gin."

"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 yet he lives does not cease from
dying, from mortifying the flesh, and from sub-
duing 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

48 HOMO SUM.

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 be-
came 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 traveller 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 Hermas, sharply interrupting the speaker.

HOMO SUM. 49

"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 I am certainly no feebler in body
than the citizens' sons in 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 Hermas, colouring. "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 com-
petition. 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

Homo Sum. /. 4

50 HOMO SUM.

thrown the disk much farther than the scented
puppy who won the victory and was crowned."

"You may thank Pachomius," said Paulus
laughing, "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 discobolus must be
learned like any other. Hercules himself 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, 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 excitement. "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

HOMO SUM. 51

\
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,

4*

52 HOMO SUM.

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.

"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 Hermas
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

ody,

HOMO SUM. 53

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 from 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 tottering balance ; there was a crash,
the tree quivered under the blow, and Hermas
shouted joyfully,

"Wonderful! wonderful! that was indeed a
throw. The old Menander is not dead! Fare-
well— to-morrow we will try again."

With these words Hermas quitted the an-
chorite, 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 bewilder-
ment, as if he had to find his way in some
strange world. Drops of sweat stood on his

$4 HOMO SUM.

brow, and with sudden shame he snatched up
his garments that were lying on the ground,
and covered his naked limbs.

For some time he stood gazing after Her-
mas, then he clasped his brow in deep anguish
and large tears ran down upon his beard.

"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, 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

HOMO SUM. 55

prayer, heard his sobs, and, marvelling at his
piety, at a sign from their pastor they knelt
down behind him.

When Paulus at last rose, he perceived with
surprise and alarm the witnesses of his devo-
tions, 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.

56 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER III.

HERMAS had hastened onwards without de-
lay. 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
fertilised the soil of the desert. He looked
down on lofty palms and tamarisk shrubs in-
numerable, among which rose the houses of the
inhabitants, surrounded by their little gardens
and small, carefully-irrigated fields; already he
could hear the crowing of a cock and the hos-
pitable 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

HOMO SUM. 57

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 sheep-
skin and his unwashed limbs. With hasty re-
solve he turned his back on the oasis and hur-
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
debouched by a hillock that rose from the

58 HOMO SUM.

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
neighbourhood 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, particularly Nabateans,
who had previously visited the holy mountain
in order to sacrifice on its summit to their gods,

HOMO SUM. 59

the sun, moon, and planets. At the outlet, to-
wards the north, stood a castle, which ever since
the Syrian Prefect, Cornelius Palma, had sub-
dued Arabia Petrsea in the time of Trajan, had
been held by a Roman garrison for the protec-
tion of the blooming city 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 pro-
perty. On the topmost cliffs of the jagged
crown of the giant mountain — the most favour-
able 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 approaching danger. Each house re-
sembled a citadel, for it was built of strong
masonry, and the younger men were all well
exercised bowmen. The more distinguished
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

60 HOMO SUM.

the greatest 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 Chaere-
mon, 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 command of the Imperial
garrison, the Gaul Phrebicius, 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 wor-
shipper of Mithras, in whose mysteries the wild
Gaul had risen to the grade of a 'Lion/ whence
his people, and with them the Pharanites in
general, were wont to speak of him as "the Lion,"

HOMO SUM. 6l

His predecessor had been an officer of much
lower rank but a believing Christian, whom
Petrus had himself requested to live in his
house, and when, about a year since, the Lion
Phoebicius 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

62 HOMO SUM.

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 eager longing, half demand-
ing, 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, "No,

HOMO SUM. 63

no; you shall not have it till it has a new
gown ; it shall be as long and as gay as the Em-
peror'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 Hermas was standing, 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.

64 HOMO SUM.

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 sombre gravity, as it might
have seemed to the careless observer; but any
one who looked closer might quickly 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 an-
other as much to heart as if they were their own,
and yet who look so gloomy, and allow them-
selves 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

HOMO SUM. 65

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, Anto-
nius, who already had a house of his own and a
wife and children, was an architect 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 extent in his father's
quarries, for he had received a commission to
decorate the new court of the Sebasteion or
Csesareum, as it was called — a grand pile in
Alexandria — with twenty granite lions. More
than thirty artists had competed with him for
this work, but the prize was unanimously ad-
judged to his models by qualified judges. The
architect whose function it was to construct the

1:olonnades and pavement of the court was his
"riend, and had agreed to procure the blocks of

Hotno Sum, I,

66 HOMO SUM,

granite, the flags and the columns which he re-
quired 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, explain-
ing 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 re-
couped by the saving in labour, and with per-
fect certainty, if only the transport-ships were
laden at Clysma with a profitable return freight
of Alexandrian manufactures, instead of return-
ing 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

HOMO SUM. 67

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
remedying 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 Polykarp proposed to get some cedar
trunks from Syria through his friend in Alexan-
dria, and when his elder son explained his
Irawings of the arch with which he promised
span the gorge and make it strong and safe,
followed their words with attention; at the
ime time he knit his eyebrows as gloomily
id looked as stern as if he were listening to
>me narrative of crime. Still, he let them

5*

68 HOMO SUM.

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 Caesa-
reum only would cover more than three quarters
of the outlay. Then Polykarp began to speak
and declared that the granite of the Holy
Mountain was finer in colour and in larger
blocks than that from Syene.

"We work cheaper here than at the Cata-
ract," interrupted 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 Po-
lykarp, "and if Zenodotus is satisfied with our
stone and our work, it may easily happen
that we outstrip Syene in competition, and

i
I

HOMO SUM. 69

that some of the enormous orders that now
flow from Constantine's new residence to the
quarries at Syene, may find their way to us."

"Polykarp is not over sanguine," continued
Antonius, "for the emperor is beautifying and
adding to Byzantium with eager haste. Who-
ever erects a new house has a yearly allowance
of corn, and in order to 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 la-
bourers. 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
able to deliver them so cheaply as we."
"No, nor so good," cried Polykarp, "for you
rourself are an artist, father, and understand
>tone-work as well as any man. I never saw a
finer or more equally coloured 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
ike a foremost place among the noble works

70 HOA1O SUM.

of the most splendid period of art, which al-
ready fill the Caesareum, but I will do my
best."

"The Lions will be admirable," cried Anto-
nius with a glance of pride at his brother. "No-
thing 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 sons' talk had walked up and down before
them in silence. "Let us try the building of
the bridge in the name of the Lord. We will
work out the road if the municipality will de-
clare 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.

HOMO SUM. 7f

Petrus hastily 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 no-
where to be found, and how glad I am for An-
tonius! only we must have patience about the
roadway. He wants to speak to you at once."

Dorothea signed to her son to moderate his
extasy, for he had seized her hand, and was
pulling her away with him, but the tears that
stood in her kind eyes testified how deeply

72 HOMO SUM.

she sympathised in her favourite's excite-
ment.

"Patience, patience, I am coming directly,"
cried she, drawing away her hand in order co
arrange her dress and her grey hair, which was
abundant and carefully dressed, and formed a
meet setting for her still pleasing and un-
wnnkled face.

"I knew it would be so; when you have a
reasonable thing to propose to your father, he
will always listen to you and agree with you
without my intervention; 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 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 once was pleasing. Besides,
men have not always wax in their ears when
they should have. Come now to your father,"

HOMO SUM. 73

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 im-
portant business called her away."

"Sirona?" asked Polykarp incredulously.

"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
Polykarp 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, hav-
ing reached the door of the sitting-room, looked
round for her children,

74 HOMO SUM.

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 sup-
pose?"

"You are madmen, who would fain take
Heaven by storm/' she answered gaily.

"If the undertaking fails," said Petrus, point-
ing 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 helping 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!"

HOMO SUM. 75

The person thus addressed, the old house-
steward, appeared, and Dorothea began to dis-
cuss 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 indispens-
able 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 move-
ment, expressed very clearly that he had some-
thing to tell, but feared to speak in the pre-
sence of his master. Dame Dorothea was quick
of comprehension, and she quite understood
Jethro's meaning; it was for that very reason

76 HOMO SUM.

that she said with more of surprise than dis-
pleasure,

"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 chil-
dren's clamours on the stairs and by Sirona,
who brought Hermas to the senator, and said
laughing,

"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; the
presence of so ' many human beings, of whom
three were women, rilled 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 stam-
mering out, "I am the son of old Stephanus4

HOMO SUM. 77

who was wounded in the last raid of the Sara-
cens. 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
kindness. "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 moun-
tain."

Hermas coloured, and drew himself up ; then
he observed 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 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.

7 8 HOMO SUM.

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 feel-
ings. He had certainly seen some old an-
chorites, who led a contemplative and peniten-
tial life up on the sacred mountain, but it had
never occurred to him that a strong youth could
belong to the brotherhood of hermits. So he
said to him kindly,

"Hermas — is that your name? We all use our
hands here and labour 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

HOMO SUM. 79

you do, my son, is it not? Petrus will not re-
fuse you his help."

"Certainly not," the senator added, "I will
accompany 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," stam-
mered Hermas.

"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, "An-

K'-mius, go at once and see about some slaves —
ou, Polykarp, find some strong beasts of

80 HOMO SUM.

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 decision, 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 con-
sideration 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,

HOMO SUM. 8 1

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."

"Why did not I hear of this sooner?" cried
Dorothea reprovingly. "What have you done
to the girl?"

"We have shut her up in the hay loft," an-
swered Jethro, "and there she is raging and
storming." The mistress shook her head dis-
approvingly. "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,
ie exclaimed, turning to her husband, "One
lay well be perplexed about these poor
creatures, when one sees how they behave to
each other. I have seen it a thousand times!

Homo Sum, I, 6

82 HOMO SUM.

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 in
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 round 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 fled 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 sympathy, hastened
towards her. She pushed away the old man's
hand, and said, "Do not be frightened, Miriam.

HOMO SUM. 83

Whatever you may have done, my father can
forgive you."

Her voice had a tone of sisterly affection,
and the shepherdess followed Marthana un-
resistingly 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 im-
prisonment, 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,

84 HOMO SUM.

"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, dreadful ! Yester-
day 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 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,"

HOMO SUM. 85

"How can you speak so?" interrupted Mar-
thana. "You are wild and ungovernable, but
not wicked."

"Only ask him!" cried the girl, pointing with
flashing 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 understand each other with-
out speech, and Dorothea said,

"He who feels that he is not what he ought
to be, is already on the high-road to amend-
ment. 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 sometimes 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

86 HOMO SUM.

entrusted to our care, be they our children
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 Pe-
trus does not think it necessary to punish you."

The senator gravely shook his head in sign
of agreement, 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 cool-
ing his wound with water."

"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 shep-
herdess cast down her eyes, and passively allowed
herself to be conducted to the wounded man.

Meanwhile Marthana had prepared the brown
mixture. Petrus had his staff and felt-hat

»or

HOMO SUM. 87

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 ex-
claimed. "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 al-
ready high. How the days fly! the older one
grows the quicker the hours hurry away."

"I must be very young then," said the cen-
turion'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
mountain, the same palm-trees, the same
faces!—"

"But the mountain is glorious, the trees are
beautiful!" answered Dorothea. "And if we love
the people with whom we are in daily inter-

88 HOMO SUM".

course, even here we may be contented and
happy. At least we ourselves 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 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 pro-
cession, 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
coloured 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 your-
self 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

HOMO SUM;

89

merry at all; nor am I, except in your house,
and not there even but when I forget him al-
together."

"I will not hear such things said — not an-
other word," interrupted Dorothea severely.
"Take the linen and cooling lotion, Marthana,

will go and bind up Anubis' wound."

90 HOMO SUM.

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 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.

HOMO SUM. 91

"He never lets me out of his sight;" replied
Hermas. "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 pray-
ing beasts."

Deep bitterness sounded in the last words,
and Petrus could see into the troubled spirit of
his companion, overflowing as it was with weary
disgust, and he perceived how the active powers
of youth revolted in aversion against the sloth-
ful 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 with-
out 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 no-

HOMO SUM.

thing 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 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 upwards,
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 ex-
pression, that left no doubt in the youth's mind
as to their double meaning. "The day is yet
before us, and we will see what my labourers
are doing. Do you know the spot where they
quarry the stone?"

"How should I not know it?" said Hermas,
passing the Senator to lead the way. "I know
every path from our mountain to the oasis, and

HOMO SUM. 93

to the sea. A panther 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 with her; my knife
is so bad, and the copper blade bent with 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, 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 sheep-
skin, and brought them to my father. He

94 HOMO SUM.

laughed at the little beggars, and then a Naba-
taean 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 beasl
of prey. I got some money for them, and fc
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

HOMO SUM. 95

patient, and when I leave my father I will do
something that shall win me fame. But there
are the quarries — " Petrus did not let his com-
panion 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 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 des-
tined to decorate the finest building in the
capital itself. When you and I, and all that
are now living, shall have been long since for-
gotten, still it will be said these are the work
of the Master Polykarp, the son of Petrus, the

06 HOMO SUM.

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 ol
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 labour 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
every thing, even my life, only to win fame.

HOMO SUM. 97

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 flinging the strongest to the ground, or sur-
pass all others as a warrior in battle ; my father
was a soldier too, and he 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."

Homo Sum. I. 7

98 HOMO SUM.

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 dis-
tance, 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 he fain

HOMO SUM. 99

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 overflowing 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

7*

100 HOMO SUM.

had taken the garlands of roses and popli
leaves from his brow and breast, and robed hii
in his night-dress; now, with a silver lamp ii
his hand, he was approaching his bed-rooi
and he smiled, for his young wife was awaitii
him, the mother of his Hermas. She was fail
and he loved her well, and he had brougl
home witty sayings to repeat to her from
table of the Emperor. He, if any one, had
right to smile. Now he was in the ante-rooi
in which two slave-women were accustomed
keep watch; he found only one, and she was
sleeping 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 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

HOMO SUM. IOI

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, rinding 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

102 HOMO SUM.

brow against the couch, and made no repli
Stephanus gazed in astonishment at his coi
panion, but perceiving that he was weepii
passionately he asked no farther questions. P<
feet stillness reigned in the cave for about
hour; at last Paulus raised his face, and saic
"Forgive me, Stephanus. I forgot your IK
sity in prayer and scourging, in order to reco-\
the peace of mind I had trifled away —
heathen would have done such a thing!" Tl
sick man stroked his friend's arm affectionately
but Paulus murmured, "Egoism, miserabl
egoism guides and governs us. Which of
ever thinks of the needs of others? And w<
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 life -task

HOMO SUM. 103

for men and for Christians, but he succoured
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 believe 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 re-
lations with the youth, who had excited his
interest in the highest degree, and he had re-

104 HOMO SUM.

solved to help him to escape from the inactive
life which was weighing upon him.

Paulus declined to share the simple supper
that the father and son were eating, but ex-
pressed 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 together in dull con-
fusion, had taken form and colour, 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,

HOMO SUM. 105

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 purple 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.

106 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 sup-
pressed even an impulse 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 my-
self; 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

HOMO SUM. lO/

Holy Mountain, but that was not the only
motive — it seemed to me too hard to part alto-
gether 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 suffer-
ing. And now — and now? If he is miserable
it will be through me, and added to all my
other troubles comes this grief.

"You have sought out the way for him," in-
terrupted 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

IO8 HOMO SUM.

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 our-
selves."

"You and I," repeated the sick man thought-
fully. "Yes, each of us has sought his own way,
but has enquired only which was his own way,
and has never concerned 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 recall
to mind about your youth, and how you were
led to grace. I learnt by accident that you
were an Alexandrian, and had been a heathen,

HOMO SUM. 109

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 neighbour should be as dear to us as our
self, and who is nearer to me than you? Aye,
self and selfishness! There are many gulfs on
the road towards God."

"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,

IIO HOMO SUM.

"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 myself 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 some-
what drily. "He who plunges into the depths
of philosophic systems — "

"That never was quite my case," said Paulus.
"I did indeed go through the whole educa-
tional course; Grammar, Rhetoric, Dialectic, and
Music—"

"And Arithmetic, Geometry, and Astronomy,"
added Stephanus.

HOMO SUM. 1 1 1

"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 behind my fellows, and if Plato
was dear to me I owe it to Paedonomus of
Athens, a worthy man whom my father en-
gaged to teach us."

"They say he had been a great merchant,"
interrupted 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 almost 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 harbour 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

112 HOMO SUM.

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. "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, indeed, 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 brother Apollonius, who was about a year
younger than I, learned all the most difficult
things as if they were mere child's play, and

HOMO SUM. 113

in dialectic exercises there soon was no rheto-
rician in Alexandria who could compete with
him. No system was unknown to him, and
though no one ever knew of his troubling him-
self 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 presented 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
vigour of body in Menander, and the same
qualities of mind in Apollonius.' These lines,
which were written in the form of a lute, passed

Homo Sum. I. 8

II4T HOMO SUM.

from mouth to mouth, and gratified 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."

"I know it all," exclaimed Stephanus inter-
rupting 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

HOMO SUM. 'll$

of sacred things; but when the savour of fish
rises up to my nostrils I see the market and
fish stalls and the oysters — "

"Those of Kanopus are famous," interrupted
Stephanus, "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 Hera-
kleotis."

But he broke off, and cried with an impulse
of shame, "It were better that I should cease
telling 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, empty-
ing the wine cup and crowned with poplar, I
often felt as if I were walking on the brink of

Il6 HOMO SUM.

a dark abyss — as if every thing in myself 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 present 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
festivals, but he laughed at the belief of the
multitude, and my brother talked of the ' Pri-
maeval Unity,' and dealt with all sorts of demons,
and magic formulas. He accepted the doctrine
of lamblichus, Ablavius, and the other Neo-
platonic philosophers, which to my poor under-
standing seemed either superhumanly profound
or else debasmgly foolish; nevertheless my me-
mory 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

HOMO SUM, II/

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 pro-
claimed in their very ears! There were Chris-
tians 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 an-
noyed when, on the Hippodrome, a Christian's
horses which had been blessed by a Nazarite,
beat mine; and on another occasion it seemed
strange to me when I myself received the bless-
ing of an old Christian dock-labourer, having
pulled his son out of the water.

"Years went on; my parents died. My
mother's last glance was directed at me, for I
had always been her favourite 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

Il8 HOMO SUM.

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 contests in the arena, and the nights
to feasting, sometimes at my own house, some-
times at a friend's, and sometimes 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 offered even in Rome.

"Since the taking of our city by Diocletian,
after the insurrection of Achilleus, the Imperial
troops who came to Alexandria behaved inso-

HOMO SUM. lip

lently 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
replied to after their fashion, and at last they
came to insulting words, and as the wine heated
us and them to loud threats.

"The Romans left the house of entertain-
ment 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 re-
cognise some of our adversaries. I threw my-
self on a tall tribune, 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

120 HOMO SUM.

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
fighting-quails at Alexandria, and whether they
had had any water. Then my dull heavy un-
consciousness increased; for weeks I lay in that
state, for I was hacked like sausage-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 be-
hind 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 Ni-
kander's, and yet he wanted to dispute the
stakes with me, but I would assert my rights!
At least the quails should fight again, and if

HOMO SUM. 121

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

122 HOMO SUM.

help in the harvest either; 'and now they want
to withhold his portion of the corn/ thought I ;
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
obstinately 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 com-
panions and for the increase of their labours?'

" ' 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 complaint of the men and the decision of

HOMO SUM. 123

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 re-
freshed 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 sub-
mission. 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.

124 HOMO SUM.

"I became a new man, and before me there
lay in the future an eternal and blessed exist-
ence; after this life I now learned to look
forward to Eternity. The gates of Heaven were
wide open before me, and I was baptised 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 pre-
fect. 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 por-
phyry 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 aught 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

HOMO SUM. 125

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 honours 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.

126 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER VI.

SlRONA 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 me-
lancholy 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 lambe," she said, "if we two,
inside these four walls, want to see anything

HOMO SUM. 127

like a pleasing sight we must look at our-
selves."

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 burn-
ing 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 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

128 HOMO SUM.

to them, in the background 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 window 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 solitude.

Besides a few adjoining rooms she was mis-
tress of a larger room, the dwelling room, which
looked out upon the street.

.

HOMO SUM. 129

She shaded her eyes with her hand, ex-
claiming, "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 in-
sist upon it."

The slave shook her head, and stammered
an answer, "Phcebicius 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 glow-
ing cheeks, and she pointed threateningly to
the dwelling-room.

"The master is out," stuttered the old wo-
man. "He went out before sunrise. You are

Homo Siim, /. 9

130 HOMO SUM.

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 over-
spread 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 abandoned,
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 brothers and sisters. Her father had

HOMO SUM. 131

been the chief accountant of the decurions' col-
lege in his native town, and he had lived op-
posite 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 amphi-
theatre, 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 unnecessary occupa-
tions, 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
offi : ^s who hid seen and could praise the
splendours of Rome the golden.

She knew that she was fair, for she need
only go outside the house to hear it said; but
though she longed to see the capital, it was not
for the sake of being admired, but because

9*

132 HOMO SUM.

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 native 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 antici-
pation.

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
husband, and without waiting for him, but con-
stantly 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 ad-
miring.

It did not escape her, while she did so,
that she attracted all eyes wherever she went,
and however much this flattered and pleased
her at first, it spoilt many of her pleasures,

HOMO SUM. 133

when the Romans, young and old, began to follow
and court her. At last Phoebicius arrived, and
when he found his house crowded with his
wife's admirers he behaved to Sirona as though
she had long since betrayed his honour.

Nevertheless he dragged her from pleasure
to pleasure, 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 un-
clean ; and she soon discovered that the joys of
the capital, which had seemed at first to be gay
flowers with bright colours, 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 de-
light; but her husband took pleasure only in
things which revolted her as being common and
abominable, He watched her every glance,

134 HOMO SUM.

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
reproaches, and when at last, weary of such
treatment, she refused to quit the house, he
obliged her nevertheless 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 an-
swerable for much of what she endured. But
at last — about ten months after her marriage —
something occurred between her and Phoebicius
— 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

HOMO SUM. 135

her systematically while she tried to protect
herself by icy coldness ; so that at last it came
to this, that the husband, for whom she felt no-
thing but contempt, had no more influence 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 in-
nate, 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 honour to
the point of exhaustion, 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 remained out all day

136 HOMO SUM.

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 pos-
sible that of her own free will she had chosen
to become his wife. Her bosom heaved with
quicker breathing as she remembered the igno-
miny 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 per-
ceived young Hennas, 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

HOMO SUM. 137

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 colour 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.

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 medicine phial trembled, she
understood that he was watching her, and that
the sight of her had stirred his youthful blood.
A woman — still more a woman who is pleased

138 HOMO SUM,

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 re-
iterate timidly.

"Dame Dorothea was telling me last even-
ing," 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 succeeded in stammering rather than
saying, "You are as good as you are beautiful."

:ed

HOMO SUM. 139

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.

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, unfinished 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

I4O HOMO SUM.

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 peacefully 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 recognise Hernias' 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 rest-
ing, 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 direction of his eyes and saw the
same image which had fascinated his gaze — Si-

HOMO SUM. 141

rona'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 paralysed
in body and soul; but soon she shook off 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 her-
self up to the window on which Hernias' 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 shoul-
ders, and observed Hermas start and press his
hand to his heart.

142 HOMO SUM.

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 threatened with
danger. She blushed for Sirona and had ac-
tually opened her lips to call, when the grey-
hound 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 inter-
rupted their conversation, and Miriam returned
to the sick man.

Now she was standing at the door, wait-
ing for Hermas. Long, long did she wait;
at last he appeared with Dorothea, and she
could see that he glanced up again at Si-
rona; 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.

HOMO SUM." 143

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 road-way. Half an hour later the old
black slave came to Sirona, who was throw-
ing 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 Phoebicius, and if any one
sees it, it will be talked about."

The black woman turned away, shrugging
her shoulders; but Sirona thought, "Polykarp

144 HOMO SUM.

is a handsome and charming man, and has finer
and more expressive 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. 145

CHAPTER VIL

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

Homo Sum. I. 10

146 HOMO SUM.

meantime to have grown from a boy into a
man. How self-possessed his gait is."

Paulus, looking down at the ground, mut-
tered 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 yesterday, 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. Stephanus 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.

Far below them gleamed the narrow, dark
blue-green streak of the Red Sea, bounded by
the bare mountains 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

HOMO SUM. 147

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 undulating
shore floated in the translucent violet of the
amethyst There not a breath of air was stir-
ring, 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 him-
self be led back to his bed ; while Paulus was

10*

148 HOMO SUM.

spreading the sheep-skin 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, snorting fire as
they went, and Helios himself in the guise of
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 Hermas 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 eat-

HOMO SUM. 149

ing the pieces of meat which had been cooked
on a spit. Paulus 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 strengthening 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 mur-
mured, 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

150 HOMO SUM.

you know it by the mere smell! She said it
was particularly good for the sick."

"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 husband 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

HOMO SUM. 151

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
neighbour. Great injuries have been done me,
but I have forgiven — 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 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!"

1 52 HOMO SUM.

groaned the old man. " She lived like a princess,
and I fulfilled her every wish before it was ut-
tered. She herself 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 Hernias 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

HOMO SUM. 153

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 Hermas had filled with fresh water be-
fore going down to the oasis.

"I feel quite strong," said the old man.
"The 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 mo-
ment." With these words he went out of the
cave.

As soon as he was out of sight of Stepha-
nus 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 consumed 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

154 HOMO SUM.

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 extatic pain of hanging on
the cross and bleeding from five wounds in
imitation of the Saviour.

But Stephanus was calling him, and without
hesitation 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 roar-
ing, 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 thank-
ful!" replied 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 — who called me?" murmured Paulus,
staring at the questioner with a fixed gaze.

Stephanus was startled to see that his com-

HOMO SUM. 155

panion trembled in every limb, he raised him-
self 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 colour
to his cheeks, and lent a strange 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 re-
peated 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; but you must not in-
terrupt 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 Hernias' bed ; he threw

156 HOMO SUM.

himself far back, leaned the back of his head
against the rocky wall of the cavern through
whose doorway the day-light poured, and be-
gan thus, while he gazed fixedly into vacancy,

"What she was like? — who can describe 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 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 in a hideous spot, the revolting
prison-hall of Rhyakotis. She wore only a

HOMO SUM. 157

thread-bare 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
answered 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 regula-
rity of her features. She knew how to endure
even ignominy with grace, and what words the
raging old woman poured out upon her!

"I had long since been baptised, 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

158- HOMO SUM.

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 lived with a
Roman at the old woman's, and had defrauded
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 be-
fore; 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.

HOMO SUM. 159

"She looked at me not without distrust, and
said that nothing had happened to her, but what
she deserved, and she would bear it. Before I
could enquire of her any farther, we were in-
terrupted by the Christian prisoners, who
crowded round 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 an-
other favour of you. You are a Christian, send
me a priest, that he may baptise me, if he does
not think me unworthy, for I am burdened
with sins so heavily as no other woman can
be.' Her large, 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, Am-

l6o HOMO SUM.

monius secretly baptised 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
discover in this woman, who was worthy of a
better lot! What is highest and best in a wo-
man? Her love, her mother's heart, her honour;
and Magdalen had squandered and ruined all
these by her own guilt. The blow of over-
whelming 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 re-
pentance, and she steadily refused my offers to
purchase her freedom.

"She was greedy of punishment, as a man

HOMO SUM. l6l

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 Magdalen, the
prison recovered its sanctity in my eyes. Be-
fore this I had frequently quitted it full of
deep contempt, for among the imprisoned Chris-
tians, 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 mar-
tyr's death to win back the redemption that
they 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 sub-
limest 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.

Homo Sum. I. II

1 62 HOMO SUM.

"Among all the prisoners there was neither
man nor woman who was more calmly self-pos-
sessed, 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
persecution, a few months before the promulga-
tion 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

HOMO SUM. 163

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 the Christian prisoners were called
out, and the Imperial soldiers led them all to-
gether 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 features 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. 'I 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

ii*

1 64 HOMO SUM.

loud, 'Grant me my place among the believers,
and write down, that Magdalen, the Christian,
refuses to sacrifice.'

"My soul was deeply moved, and with joy-
ful eagerness 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 lamenta-
tions, and beat their foreheads, and prayed that
the Lord might strengthen the courage of the
others. An unutterably pure and lofty joy
filled my soul, and I felt, as if we were out of
the body floating on ambient clouds. Softly

HOMO SUM. 165

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 lips
— living, but already with the Lord — on the
rack, and yet in bliss. My stronger body clung
to the earth; she found deliverance 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 sheep-skin I have it
yet; and I pray, I pray, I pray — oh! my

1 66 HOMO SUM.

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 followed 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 senseless
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, to his heart, to his
lips again; buried his face in his hands and
wept bitterly.

It was not till Hennas returned from the
oasis that Stephanus thought of his exhausted
and fainting friend, and with his son's assistance
restored him to consciousness. 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 Stepha-

HOMO SUM. 167

nus, 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 himself tied to his friend by a new and
tender bond, and it was with silent extasy 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 following 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
farther nursing."

168 HOMO SUM.

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. 169

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 Moun-
tain; the city of the oasis on the contrary was
fully illuminated; the broad road-way of the
high-street looked to the wanderer who de-
scended 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

HOMO SUM.

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 moonlight. The elders and
deacons, the readers and singers, the acolytes
and the assembled priesthood of the place fol-
lowed 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 corner of an antechamber through
which a spring of water softly plashed and
trickled, and which was intended for penitents.
The man was prostrate on the ground and ab-
sorbed 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 recognised in the belated wor-

HOMO SUM. 171

shipper 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 this high honour 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, pe-
nitential chamber. "In this house dwells One
of whom I would fain take counsel, 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 consider-
ing, "for my wife is ill, and my house is a

172 HOMO SUM.

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
building of the new altar the first thing to-
morrow morning. The workmen are to be here
by sunrise, and if — "

"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 so 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 Ra'ithu, while at the same time he
begged him not to linger too late.

As he went by the Senator's house he smelt
the savour of roast meat; he was a poor man
and thought to himself, "They fast in there

HOMO SUM. 173

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 pre-
pared as a feast-supper for the Senator and the
assembled members 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 len-
tils 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 apportioned 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 each slave

174 HOMO SUM.

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-
bour'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 ; Doro-
thea marked the deep lines between his grave
eyes, not without anxiety, and noted how he
pinched his lips, when, forgetful of the food be-
fore 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

HOMO SUM. 175

one dared to rise before the master gave the
signal.

Miriam followed all his movements with
more impatience 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 courtyard-
gate open, and had recognised Hennas' 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 hair to smooth
it, and threw a glance at the other slaves,
in which hatred and contempt were equally
marked.

But Hermas came not. Not for an instant
did she think that her ear had deceived her —
was he waiting now at the door for the con-
clusion of the meal? Was his late visit in-
tended for the Gaulish lady, to whom she had
seen him go yesterday again with the wine-jar?

176 HOMO SUM.

Sirona's husband, Phoebicius, as Miriam well
knew, was upon the mountain, and offering
sacrifice by moonlight 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 rising 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 perform-
ing their nocturnal solemnities. Now it flashed
across her mind, that Sirona was alone, and
that the late visit of Hermas probably con-
cerned her, and not the Senator.

She started, there was quite a pain in her
heart, and, as usual, when any violent emotion

HOMO SUM. 177

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 im-
propriety of her behaviour.

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 an-
swer to her master's stern questioning 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 perceiv-
ing 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 Poly-
karp, the sculptor, alone was missing — he with-

Homo Sum. /. 12

178 HOMO SUM.

drew 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 peaceful 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 tender-
ness as they met those of his wife. Dorothea
knew the soft and loving heart within the stern
exterior, and nodded to him with sympathetic
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 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 —

HOMO SUM. 179

even before we went to church something un-
satisfactory had happened to you, and not
merely in the council-meeting. There must be
something 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 Raithu, 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

12*

180 HOMO SUM.

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, your 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, "And if the gnarled old trunk
bears from time to time some sweet fruit, he
may thank the graft for it. I cannot believe
that the anchorites up yonder are peculiarly
pleasing to the Lord because they live in soli-
tude. 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 feel-
ing. If a man may stake his whole existence
and powers for anything, surely it is for his
own house."

HOMO SUM. l8l

"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 'I' 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 con-
structing 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
supported 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,

1 82 HOMO SUM.

and sent the boy to learn of the sculptor Tha-
lassius — for even as a child he drew better than
many masters in these wretched days that pro-
duce 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 abomination; he never
felt the purifying influence of the beautiful, and
regards all pictures and statues as tending to
idolatry. Still he allows himself to admire Po-
lykarp's figures of angels and the Good Shep-
herd, but the lions put the old warrior in a rage.
'Accursed idols and works of the devil/ are
what he calls them."

"But there were lions even in the temple of
Solomon," cried Dorothea.

"I urged that, and also that in the schools
of the catechists, and in the educational history

HOMO SUM. 183

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 Caesareum, 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 con-
struct the road-way was thrown over, because it
did not become a Christian assembly to pro-
mote idolatry, and to smoothe a way for the
devil."

"I can see that you must have answered
them sharply!"

" Indeed I believe so," answered Petrus, look-
ing down. "Many painful things were no doubt
said, and it was I that suffered for them.

1 84 HOMO SUM.

Agapitus, who was looking at the deacons' re-
ports, was especially dissatisfied with the ac-
count 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 unbaptised, and their
Christian neighbours 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 completion, for Polykarp will now

HOMO SUM. 185

hardly be able to go on with his lions here
among us. Poor fellow! with what delight he
formed the clay models, and how wonderfully
he succeeded in reproducing the air and aspect
of the majestic beasts. It is as if he were in-
spired by the spirit of the old Athenian masters.
We must now consider whether in Alexan-
dria—"

" Rather let us endeavour," interrupted Doro-
thea, "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 excite-
ment, "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 neighbour's wife.
Do you think, the Gaulish woman is capable of
forgetting her duty?"

1 86 HOMO SUM.

Dorothea hesitated, and after some reflection
answered, "She is a beautiful and vain child —
a perfect child; I mean in nature, and not in
years, although she certainly might be the grand-
child of her strange husband, for whom she feels
neither love nor respect, nor, indeed, anything
but utter aversion. I know not what, but some-
thing frightful must have come between them
even in Rome, and I have given up all at-
tempts 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
impossible 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,

HOMO SUM. 187

"and Phoebicius has noticed it; he met me
yesterday when 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
interrupting 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 chil-
dren, 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 Amale-
kite blood in my veins, and I should dishonour

1 88 HOMO SUM.

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 conduct of the capital
beneath his father's roof."

The last words were spoken with weight
and decision, 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
the hasty impulse of our heart. Even in
wrestling, men only fight with lawful and re-
cognised 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 supe-

HOMO SUM. 189

riors. The Gauls may remain in our house,
and do you take Polykarp 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 forward 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 ques-
tion 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

190 HOMO SUM.

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. 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

HOMO SUM. Ipl

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 re-
turns from Ra'ithu. 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."

192 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER IX.

MIRIAM'S ears had not betrayed her. While
she was detained at supper, Hermas had opened
the courtyard-gate ; he came to bring the Senator
a noble young buck, that he had killed a few
hours before, as a thankoffering for the medi-
cine 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 expression to his gratitude at-
tracted him down into the 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.

HOMO SUM. 193

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 ap-
proached Petrus' house the more vehemently
his heart beat; he stood still in front of the
gate-way to take breath and to collect himself
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, and he
wanted to take nothing away, and yet he ap-
peared to himself just like a thief as he looked
round, first at the main building lighted up by
the moon, and then at the Gaul's dwelling-house,
which, veiled in darkness, stood up as a vague
silhouette, and threw a broad dark shadow on

Homo Sum. I. 13

194' HOMO SUM.

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 something appeared within its dark stone
frame, and this something attracted his gaze
with an irresistible spell ; it moved, and Sirona's
grey-hound set up a sharp barking.

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 that he had met her husband and
the old slave woman among the worshippers of
Mithras on their way to the mountain. The
pious youth, who so lately had punished his
flesh with the scourge to banish seductive

HOMO SUM. 195

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 practised 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 irresistibly drawn to her. What he desired
of her, he himself could not have said ; and no-
thing 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

13*

196 HOMO SUM.

end. Sin after all was nothing but a phantom
terror with which they frighten children, and
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 recognised him as he stood in the
moonlight.

"Hermas!" he heard her say softly. He
was seized with such violent terror that he
stood as if spell-bound, the goat slipped from
his shoulders, and he felt as if his heart had
ceased to beat. And again the sweet woman'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 win-
dow. 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

HOMO SUM. '197

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 every body, and yet they whispered
as if they were speaking of some forbidden
thing.

"Wait a moment," said Sirona, and she dis-
appeared within the room ; she soon reappeared,
and said softly and sadly, "I would ask you to
come into the house, but Phoebicius 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 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 extatic thrill

198 HOMO SUM.

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. Si-
rona 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 ! "

Hernias looked hastily round the court, and
listened to the increasing noise in the other
house, then, perceiving that there was no pos-
sible 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
opposite 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

HOMO SUM. 199

closed a second time, of that she was per-
fectly 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
shepherdess remained in the courtyard seeking
him on all sides, as if she were hunting for
some lost trinket. She searched even behind
the mill-stones, and in the dark sheds in which
the stone-workers' tools were kept. 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 shudder, 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

200 HOMO SUM.

acute and burning for tears to allay or cool it.
But she did not wholly lose her power of re-
flection. "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 together."

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 mill-stones, and crept as
cleverly and as silently as a snake along the
ground under the darkened base of the cen-
turion'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

HOMO SUM. 201

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.

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 flattering 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

202 HOMO SUM.

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 myriad 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.

"An owl screamed — " replied Hermas. "My
father must at last tell me from what house
we are descended, and I will go to Byzantium,
the new Rome, and say to the Emperor,

HOMO SUM. 2O3

'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

204 HOMO SUM.

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 con-
tentedly 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. 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 husband 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 herself

:red

HOMO SUM. 205

by the window in silent thought of her beautiful
home, her brothers and sisters, and the dark
olive-groves of Arelas.

Then Hermas appeared. It had not escaped
her that the young anchorite passionately ad-
mired her, and she was not displeased, for she
liked him, and the confusion with 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 sheep-skin, 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 because she
is grateful to him for the pleasure of feeling her-
self 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

206 HOMO SUM.

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 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 anchorite, 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 Dorothea'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,

HOMO SUM. 2O7

and the question passed through her mind,
"What should I be without those 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 perfumed
gold hair, and desired him to be less forward,
and to release her hand.

She spoke in a low voice, but with such de-
cision, 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
coloured stucco, lay the helmet, the centurion's
staff, and the other portions of the armour
which Phcebicius had taken off before setting
out for the feast of Mithras, in order to assume
the vestments of one of the initiated of the
grade of "Lion."

208 HOMO SUM.

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 endeavoured 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, intemperate, and unbecoming
behaviour.

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 splen-
dour of her own merits, she wished that Her-
mas too should feel and recognise them. She
began to expatiate on all that she had to
forego and to endure in the oasis, and she

HOMO SUM. 209

discoursed 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 some-
what 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 listen-
ing to all she said, for his attention had been
riveted by the armour which lay before him, and
which gave a new direction to his excited feel-
ings. He involuntarily put out his hand to-
wards the gleaming helmet, and interrupted 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 sheep-skin, and let us see how the ancho-
rite looks as a centurion."

Homo Sum. I. 14

210 HOMO SUM.

Hermas needed no second telling; he decked
himself in the Gaul's armour 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 inexplicable pleasure with
the sage, and the stern man who should con-
demn 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 mas-
querading. If it had been needful to seek a reason
why the Senator's children and grandchildren
were so fond of her, by no means last or least
would have been the fact that she would will-
ingly and cheerfully allow herself to be tricked

HOMO SUM. 211

out in coloured kerchiefs, ribands, and flowers,
and on her part could contrive the most fan-
tastic costumes 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 innocence pulled
the coat of armour straight, helped him to
buckle the breast-plate 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.

Hermas' 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
encouraged him, then she criticised his slovenly

14*

212 HOMO SUM.

deportment, 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. Her-
mas 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 equip-
ment, 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 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."

HOMO SUM. 213

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 grey-hound and the Senator's watch-
dogs barked loudly, and she recognised 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 ex-
tinguished 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 neighbouring 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

214 HOMO SUM.

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 outstripping 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
recognised the voice of the man from whom
he was flying as that of his good friend
Paulus.

"You indeed!" said the Alexandrian, pant-
ing for breath. "Yes, you are swifter than I.
Years hang 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 con-
science; 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 de-
fiantly, and trying in vain to free himself from
the strong grasp of the anchorite who held him
firmly. "I have done nothing wrong."

HOMO SUM. 215

"Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife!"
interrupted Paulus in a tone of stern severity.
"You have been with the centurion's pretty
wife, and were taken by surprise. Where is your
sheep-skin ? "

Hermas started, felt on his shoulder, and
exclaimed, striking his fist against his fore-
head, "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 Hermas.

"Leave me to settle that," exclaimed Paulus.
"I will make every thing straight with her.
There, take my sheep-skin. You will not?
Well, to be sure, the man who does not fear to

216

HOMO SUM.

commit adultery would make nothing of be-
coming 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 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 carried by some ship's captain
across the Red Sea, and wander up and down
the Egyptian coast. The hordes of the Blem-
myes 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?

HOMO SUM. 217

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 the important task that had been laid
upon him; dazzling visions of the great deeds

2l8 HOMO SUM.

he was to accomplish eclipsed the image of
the fair Sirona, and he was so accustomed to
believe in the superior insight and kindness 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 sinking ; it grew cooler and cooler, and
since he had given his sheep-skin to Hermas
he had nothing on, but his thread-bare coat.
Nevertheless he went slowly onwards, stop-
ping every now and then, moving his arms,
and speaking incoherent words in a low tone
to himself.

He thought of Hermas and Sirona, of his
own youth, and of how in Alexandria he him-
self 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

HOMO SUM. 219

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 — how-
ever, 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 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

220 HOMO SUM.

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."

HOMO SUM. 221

CHAPTER X.

WITHIN a few minutes after Hermas had
flung himself out of window into the road-
way, 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 escape seeing him in his fury
seemed a reprieve; and yet her heart beat so
violently that it seemed to her that he must
hear it, when he approached the bed with a
soft step that was peculiar to him. She heard

222 HOMO SUM.

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 —
involuntarily she drew herself into a heap, and
pulled the coverlet 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

HOMO SUM. 223

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' sheep-skin.

As his haggard eye met hers he held the
anchorite'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 coloured glass, that Polykarp had
brought her from Alexandria as a token, and
with the back of his hand he 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 ut-
tered 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

224 HOMO SUM.

she to it, for lambe 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
lambe was much, very much, to her, and now
as she saw her faithful 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

HOMO SUM. 225

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
Phcebicius with perfect indifference, but with an
evil smile on his flaccid lips. "So many two-
legged lovers make 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 sheep-skin here?" Sirona vouch-
safed no answer to this last question, but she
exclaimed 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."

Homo Sum. I. 15

226 HOMO SUM.

"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 coloured 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
seducers. 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 recognised, covers up his purple coat
with a sheep-skin! Do you think, you can
teach me anything about lovesick night-wan-
derers and women? I see through it all! Not
one step do you set henceforth across Petrus'

HOMO SUM. 227

threshold. There is the open window — scream
— scream as loud as you will, and let all the
people know of your disgrace. I have the
greatest mind to carry this sheep-skin 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 window there through
which men in sheep-skin can get into 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 sheep-skin. 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 my-
self 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

'5*

228 HOMO SUM.

may live for aught I care; but if you are re-
fractory, 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 vio-
lent agitation. 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
sheep-skin 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

HOMO SUM. 229

for his wife, of whose guilt he was fully con-
vinced.

Who the man was for whose sake she had
dishonoured 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
storming, Sirona had said to herself, that she
would rather die than live any longer with this
man. That she herself 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 in-
justice.

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 herself she was a prisoner, and
without air, light, and freedom 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

230 HOMO SUM.

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
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.

Phcebicius 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, to 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.

HOMO SUM. 231

The lean, wiry, and very active man did not
usually fall into these fits of total enervation
excepting in the day-time, for after sun-down a
wonderful change would come over the .grey-
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 widely,
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 honour 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 fre-
quently 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.

232 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 sheep-fell, 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 finger had
wholly deserted him; only his lips twitched,
and his inward eye, looking back on the past
with preternaturally 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

HOMO SUM 233

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 sheep-skin, 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 dishonour 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 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

234 HOMO SUM.

unwelcome images rose clearly before his mind,
and would not be got rid of.

His conscience stood in inverse relation to
the vigour 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 righting the ghastly demon
that forced upon his memory in painful vivid-
ness 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 thou-
sand 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 bene-
factor had suffered through his act when he
had seduced Glycera, he himself now seemed
to realize, and at the same time the enemy
that had betrayed him, Servianus, was none

HOMO SUM. 235

other than himself, Phcebicius, the Gaul. He
tried to protect himself and meditated revenge
against the 'seducer, and still he could not alto-
gether lose the sense of his own identity.

This whirl of mad imagining, which he
vainly endeavoured to make clear to himself,
threatened to distract his reason, and he groaned
aloud ; the sound of his own voice brought him
back to actuality.

He was Phcebicius again and not another,
that he knew now, and yet he could not com-
pletely bring himself to comprehend the situa-
tion. The image of the lovely Glycera, who
had followed him to Alexandria, 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 speaking soft words of reproach,

236 HOMO SUM.

while Sirona defied him with loud threats, and
dared to nod and signal to the Senator'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 re-
turning 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 moun-
tain, and addressed a long prayer "to the
crown," "the invincible sun-god," "the great
light," "the god begotten of the rock," and to
many other names of Mithras; for since he had

HOMO SUM. 237

belonged to the mystics of this divinity, 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 husband. 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

238 HOMO SUM.

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 successful issue to his revenge on her seducer
— ended it without haste, and with careful ob-
servance of all the prescribed 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 en-
tered the bed-room with a dignified demeanour.
Not the smallest suspicion of the possibility of
her escape troubled his sense of security, when,
not rinding Sirona in the sleeping-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 dis-
missed it. No doubt she feared his wrath, and
was hidden under her bed or behind the curtain

HOMO SUM. 239

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 lambe could not bear, and which always
provoked her to bark angrily — but in vain. All
was still in the vacant room, still as death. He
was now seriously 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 courtyard. That she could
have swung herself out into the road, and have

240 HOMO SUM.

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 considered 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
him and the reparation he would exact from
him, and his parents, who had dared to tamper
with his household rights — his, the Imperial
centurion's.

What was Sirona to him. In the flush of
an hour of excitement he had linked her des-
tiny to his.

At Arelas, about two years since, one of his
comrades had joined their circle of boon-com-
panions, and had related that he had been the

HOMO SUM. 241

witness of a remarkable 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 himself
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 tormentors. She looked
like a Lioness," cried the narrator, "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 to-
gether."

On the following day he asked Sirona of

Homo Sum. I. 1 6

242 HOMO SUM.

her father for his wife, and as he had to set out
for Rome in a few 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 ad-
mired the beautiful woman, and made every
effort to obtain her favour, but to him she was
only a lightly won, and therefore 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 endeavoured to gain
profit and advancement through her, but Sirona
had rebuffed Quintillus with such insulting dis-
respect, 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 design-
edly showed herself most friendly to those who

HOMO SUM. 243

seemed most obnoxious 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.

16'

244 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER XI.

THE unfortunate Paulus sat on a stone
bench in front of the Senator's door, and shiv-
ered ; for, as dawn approached, the night-air grew
cooler, and he was accustomed to the warmth
of the sheep-skin, which he had now given to
Hermas. In his hand he held the key of 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, instead of this thread-bare 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

HOMO SUM. 245

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 sun-burnt bipeds of the desert. The
centurion surely cannot have found the sheep-
skin 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

246 HOMO SUM.

stout Senator or his buxom wife Dorothea, and
it would be strange indeed if they did not both
snore."

He rose, went up the window of Phoebicius'
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 be-
fallen Hermas 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 opposite to her the Gaul with pale distorted

HOMO SUM. 247

features; at his feet lay the sheep-skin; 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 shud-
dered 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 murderess, 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,
the night-chill, hunger and thirst, than appear
again before 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 Paulus.

248 HOMO SUM.

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 sheep-skin; but the Saviour endured far
other sufferings than these, and for what did I
quit the world but to imitate Him, and to en-
dure 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, and this
time certainly selfishness 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 sheep-skin
over my shoulders."

Paulus nodded his head as if to signify as-
sent 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
forthwith his heart swells with a camel-load of
pride. What though my teeth are chattering,
I am none the less a most miserable creature.

HOMO SUM. 249

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 quadriga, 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 so soon as the flterns 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 in-
terrupted, for the dogs set up a loud bark-
ing. Phoebicius was knocking at the Senator's
door.

Paulus rose at once, and approached the
gate-way. He could hear every word that was

250 HOMO SUM.

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 soldier's
steps as he paced up and down the court-yard,
but they soon ceased, for Dame Dorothea ap-
peared at the door with her husband, and on
her part emphatically declared that she knew
nothing of Sirona.

"Your son Polykarp then," interrupted Phoe-
bicius, "will be better informed of her where-
abouts."

"My son has been since yesterday at Raithu

HOMO SUM. 251

on business," said Petrus resolutely but eva-
sively; "we expect him home to-day only."

"It would seem that he has been quick, and
has returned much sooner/' retorted Phoebicius.
"Our preparations 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 husbands will be trifled with or not.
So far as I am concerned, I am inclined for
anything rather than jesting. I would have you
to understand that I will never let Caesar's uni-
form, 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."

252 HOMO SUM.

"You will seek in vain," replied Petrus, com-
manding himself with difficulty. "My word is
yea or nay, and I repeat once more no, we
harbour neither her nor him. As for Dorothea
and myself — neither of us is inclined to inter-
fere 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 my-
self called upon to arrange your matrimonial
difficulties. Besides you can get back Sirona
without our help, for it is always 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

HOMO SUM. 253

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 Poly-
karp 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 restrains them like a
breath of soft wind.

Phcebicius had no mind to listen to any
speech from Polykarp's mother, but her question

254 HOMO SUM.

suggested to him for the first time a rapid
retrospect of all that had occurred, 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 Sena-
tor'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 re-
flections, and as he was accustomed when need
arose to control himself, he said,

"We must see — some means must be
found — " and then without any greeting to his
host, he slowly returned 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

HOMO SUM. 255

Amalekite — and not Polykarp — who came into
the court.

"What news do you bring?" asked the Se-
nator, turning half to the messenger and half
to the centurion.

"My lord Polykarp, your son," replied the
Amalekite — 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 workmen,
whom he has engaged in Raithu. 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?" in-
quired Petrus.

"Two hours before sun-down."

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 —

256 HOMO SUM.

"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 offer more
variety to such a beautiful young creature than
this quiet spot in the desert."

Phcebicius waved his hand with a negative
movement, 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. Pe-
trus had heard nothing but good of Paulus, and

HOMO SUM. 257

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, without 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 with-
out a sheep-skin, but I have lost mine."

Hardly had he uttered the words, when
Phcebicius came back with Hernias' sheep-skin
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,"
replied the centurion, "they have always made
choice of strange disguises. Why should not a
perfumed Alexandrian gentleman transform
himself for once into one of those rough fools

Homo Sum. I. 1 7

258 HOMO SUM.

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
offence, 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 peni-
tents 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,"

HOMO SUM. 259

replied Petrus. "They are pious Christians, and
you know that Constantine himself — "

"Constantine!" exclaimed the centurion
scornfully. "Perhaps he will let himself be
baptised, 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 Constantinople adores Tyche and
the Dioscuri Castor and Pollux ? The water he is
baptised 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, Con-
stantine is the protector of the Christians. I
advise you to put your affair into the hands of

Bishop Agapitus."

17*

260 HOMO SUM.

"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 anchorite, but never without a sheep-skin
similar to that which Phoebicius held in his hand.
The anchorite's self-accusation must have ap-
peared incredible, and indeed scarcely possible,
to all who knew Paulus and Sirona; and never-
theless 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

Dur

HOMO SUM. 26l

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-disposed towards
her; besides — though it, no doubt, was not
right — her motherly vanity inclined her to be-
lieve that if the handsome young woman had
indeed sinned, she would have preferred her
fine tall Polykarp — whose roses and flaming
glances she blamed in all sincerity — to this
shaggy, wild-looking grey-beard.

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 at Petrus and Dorothea — to bear the
fact that his wife should have sought variety
and pleasure at any cost, even at that of devot-
ing herself to a ragged beggar, than that she
should have given her affections to a younger,

262 HOMO SUM.

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 gene-
rally master, excepting when on duty at the
head of his soldiers.

He approached the Alexandrian with an as-
sumption of dignity and a demeanour which testi-
fied to his formerly having taken part in the re-
presentations of tragedies 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 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:

HOMO SUM. ,263

"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 beggar — 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 be-
fore 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 hippo-
potamus 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

264 HOMO SUM.

to where your wife is hiding, that I really can-
not 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 execu-
tion, and this strange beggar should learn by
experience that when his hand intended to hit
hard, it was far from "stroking." And 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 never-
theless allowed the injured husband to have his

HOMO SUM. 265

way, for he seemed disposed to act with unusual
mildness, and the Alexandrian 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
punishment 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

266 HOMO SUM.

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 already —
Hey, here Talib!" He beckoned to Polykarp's
Amalekite messenger. "You have just come
from Raithu; 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 trust-
worthy and steady man, had expected this ques-
tion, and eagerly replied,

"At two stadia beyond el Heswe I met a
large caravan from Petra, which rested yester-
day 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 grey-hound with her?"
asked Phoebicius, full of expectation.

"She carried something in her arms," an-

HOMO SUM. 26;

swered the Amalekite. "In the moon-light I
took it for a baby. My brother, who was escort-
ing 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 smoothe 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, 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

268 HOMO SUM.

mule a good feed and drink, for his own groom,
and the superior decurion who during his ab-
sence must take his place, were also worshippers
of Mithras, and had not yet returned from the
mountain.

Phcebicius did not doubt that the woman
who had joined the caravan — which he himself
had seen yesterday — 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.

Phcebicius carefully impressed on the decu-
rion all he had to do during his absence, and
how he was to conduct himself; then he de-
livered the key of his house into Petrus' keep-
ing as well as the black slave-woman, who wept
loudly and passionately over the flight of her

HOMO SUM. 269

mistress; he requested the Senator to bring the
anchorite'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 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 marriage; one was in-
stituted 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

270 HOMO SUM.

though ruined and burnt-out, and we have al-
ready seen the nettles spring up which grow
every where among the ruins of human
dwellings."

END OF VOL. I.

PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.

COLLECTION

OF

GERMAN AUTHORS.

VOL. 33.

HOMO SUM BY GEORG EBERS.

Iff TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. H.

TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
By the same Author,

AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS 2 vols.

UARDA 2 VOls.

THE SISTEKS [DIE SCHWESTKUNJ 2 VOls.

HOMO SUM.

A NOVEL.

GEORG EBERS,

AUTHOR OF "AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS," "UARDA," ETC.
FROM THE GERMAN BY

CLARA BELL.
IN TWO VOLUMES.— VOL. II.

Copyright Edition.

LEIPZI a 1878

BERNHARD TAUCIINITZ.

LONDON : SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON.
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.

PARIS: c. REINWALD, 15, RUE DBS SAINTS PERES; THE GALIGNANI

LIBRARY, 224, RUE DE RIVOLI.

HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER I.

THE path of every star is fixed and limited,
every plant bears flowers and fruit which in
form and colour exactly resemble their kind,
and in all the fundamental characteristics of
their qualities and dispositions, of their instinc-
tive 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

6 HOMO SUM.

his inner life, and of its outward manifestation,
which assigns to man his superiority over all
other animated beings.

Some few of our qualities and activities can
be fitly symbolised 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 thousand genera-
tions, 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 feel-
ings— as our intellect is capable of comprehend-
ing His outward 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,

HOMO SUM. 7

"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 un-
just punishment 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 condemned 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 — -for-
bidden him to visit the church on week-days,
and declared that this his sentence should be
publicly proclaimed before the assembled con-
gregation of the believers.

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

8 HOMO SUM.

A fisherman from the little sea-port of
Pharan, who met him half-way and exchanged
a greeting with him, thought to himself as he
looked after him, "The great grey-beard 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 ex-
pression 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 longer see him
he laughed to himself and muttered, while he
rubbed a weal that the centurion's whip had
left upon his back, "If they think that a Gaul's
cudgel has a pleasant flavour 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

HOMO SUM. 9

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 senator'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 as Phcebicius,
and formerly he had overthrown the braggart
Arkesilaos of Kyrene and his cousin, the tall
Xenophanes, 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

K) HOMO SUM.

blossom that graced the rock, meaning to pluck
it. But he did not carry out his intention,
for before he had laid his hand upon it, he
reflected :

"To whom could I offer it? And perhaps
the flowers 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 themselves
in beauty for no one but for their Creator, and
because they rejoice in themselves. I too will
withdraw 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 himself — 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,"

HOMO SUM. 1 1

He looked up, proud and rejoicing as he
thought thus, and painted to himself the joys
of Paradise, to 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 abandoned 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 explanation quite calmly, and with signs
of approval. He could no longer conceal from
himself that Hermas was not ripe for the life'

12 HOMO SUM.

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 him-
self 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
Paulus.

"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 Hernias to Alexandria.
My brother is still alive, and for my sake he
will receive him as a blood-relation, for he too
has been baptised."

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

HOMO SUM. 13

"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
physician 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 morning and again
about two hours ago; she asked after Hermas,

'14 HOMO SUM.

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 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 visitors' purpose. So soon as
they reached Stephanus' cave, both turned their
backs on Paulus with conspicuously marked in-
tention; nay the Acolyte signed his brow with

HOMO SUM. 15

the cross, as if he thought it necessary to pro-
tect 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 interdicted 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 necessaries 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

l6 HOMO SUM.

willingly rendered and affectionately accepted
were swept away by these words — but Paulus
obeyed at once. He went 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 on-
wards, till he was brought to a pause by
the steep declivity of the hollow way which
led southwards from the mountains into the
oasis.

The sun stood high and it was burning hot.
Streaming 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 suf-
fering which he had taken upon himself, the

HOMO SUM. 17

grief of isolation 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 been deceived, and led into
injustice towards him. His heart was breaking
with anguish and grief, but when at last he re-
turned 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 experienced it would undoubtedly
have killed him. Certainly 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-
self or in 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 over-

HomoSum. II. 2

1 8 HOMO SUM.

seer — 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 reckoned against them that they shed
blood."

These and such reflections restored Paulus
to equanimity and to satisfaction with his con-
duct, and he began to consider, whether he
should return to his old cave and the neigh-
bourhood 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 nourish-
ment; 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. Be-
tween it and the main mass of the mountain

HOMO SUM. 19

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, and from the edge of the precipice
he gazed down into the desert gorge that
stretched away far below his feet, 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 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 congrega-
tional prayer, but then he asked, was not every
block of stone on the mountain an altar — was
not the blue sky above a thousand times wider,

2*

20 HOMO SUM.

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 re-
covered himself, and he went towards the
cliff in order to find a cavern that he knew of,
and that was empty — for its grey-headed in-
habitant 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 dis-
grace, 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
neighbourhood, and a few minutes after a grey-
hound rushed towards him — now indignantly
flying at him, and now timidly retreating —

HOMO SUM. 21

while it carefully held up one leg, which was
wrapped in a many-coloured bandage.

Paulus recollected the enquiry which Phoe-
bicius had addressed to the Amalekite as to a
greyhound, and he 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 preci-
pice, 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

22 HOMO SUM.

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 con-
nexion with the rock on which she stood, and
rocked to 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, involun-
tarily 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 irre-
deemably into the abyss: if he left her to her-
self, the stone to which she clung would get
looser and looser, and as soon as it fell she
would certainly fall too. He had once heard

HOMO SUM. 23

it said, that sleep-walkers always threw them-
selves 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 sur-
prised 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 husband, suggested to

24 HOMO SUM.

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 Alexan-
drian, who had been brought up in the most
approved school of the city of orators, involun-
tarily uttered his words in the admirably 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 will-
ingly serve you in your 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,

HOMO SUM. 25

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 thou-
sand pieces, and I am thankful that you pre-
ferred to follow me rather than that false sup-
port." 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 to-
wards 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

26 HOMO SUM.

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
satisfaction was audible in the soft sigh, which
was the first 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

HOMO SUM. 27

her so giddy as it danced over the shifting
waves, she now distinctly felt again, and at last
it seemed as if a whirl-pool 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 ef-
forts, the privations, and the sufferings which
had that day befallen the unfortunate fair one.

At first she had fled without any plan out
into the night and up the mountain ; the moon
lighted her on her way, and for fully an hour
she continued her upward road without any

28 HOMO SUM.

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 grey-hound, 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-skied 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 en-
durable than the tenderness with which he from
time to time approached her. When she thought

HOMO SUM. 29

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.

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

She felt that she was very superior to Her-
mas, and her position was now too grave a one
for her to feel inclined to play any more. She
thought indeed of Petrus and Dorothea, but she

30 HOMO SUM.

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 Poly-
karp! But how could she reach him? No —
even from him there was nothing to be ex-
pected; 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

,

HOMO SUM. 31

as evening came on, she would go down to the
sea, and endeavour to get on board a vessel to
Klysma and thence reach Alexandria. She wore
a ring with a finely cut onyx on her finger, ele-
gant ear-rings in her ears, and on her left arm a
bracelet. These jewels were of virgin gold, and
besides these she had with her a few silver
coins and one large 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 bag, to her lips, and thought of her pa-
ternal 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 tor-
mented with violent thirst and aching hunger.
By mid-day the strips of shade too had vanished,
where she had found shelter from the rays of
the sun, which now beat down unmercifully on

32 HOMO SUM.

her unprotected 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 grey-hound
lay panting 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
creature, caressing it like an infant. The dog
was as wretched 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 be-
fore her, and at last forgot her sufferings in an
uneasy slumber, till she was roused by lambe's

HOMO SUM. 33

barking and the Alexandrian's foot-step. Al-
most half-dead, her mouth parched and her
brain on fire, while her thoughts whirled in con-
fusion, 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 diffi-
culty, 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.

Homo Sum. II. 3

34 HOMO SUM.

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 refresh-
ing 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
her with an anxious expression, as if to ascer-
tain 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 unreasoning 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

HOMO SUM. 35

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 re-
cover?"

Paulus was fond of animals, and understood
the little dog's language. When Sirona's lips
began to move and to recover their rosy colour,
he stroked lambe'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 return she will have
opened her eyes; you are pleasanter to look
upon than a shaggy old grey-beard, 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, rubbed

3*

36 HOMO SUM.

her open eyes, stretched her limbs, clasped the
grey-hound 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,

"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 to 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

HOMO SUM. 37

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 pre-
served 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 several cakes of hard
bread, and one or two 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.

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

38 HOMO SUM.

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

There was something in the nature and
demeanour 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 recovering from a severe attack
of fever, was first allowed to go out into the
open air. She had gone out, clinging to his
arm into the peristyle of his father's house; as
he walked backwards and forwards with poor,

HOMO SUM. 39

weary, abandoned Sirona, his neglected figure
seemed by degrees 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 despised anchorite felt,
while the expelled and sinful woman leaned on
his arm, the same proud sense of succouring a
woman, as when he was the most distinguished
youth of a metropolis, and when he had led
forward the master'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.

40 HOMO SUM.

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 sleep by constant prayer,
but fatigue frequently overcame 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 suc-
ceeded in recollecting himself In this half-

HOMO SUM. 4T

somnolent state he obtained not one moment of
inward collectedness, of quiet reflection; not
even when he gazed up at the starry heavens,
or looked down on the oasis, veiled in night,
where many others like himself 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 bright-
ness?— till he himself, overpowered by fatigue,
fell asleep.

42 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER II.

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 northern por-
tion 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, com-
posed the furniture of this room; on its white-

HOMO SUM. 43

washed 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 not altogether unjustly, for he loved to
be well dressed, and was choice as to the cut
and colour of his simple garments, and he rarely
neglected to arrange his abundant hair with
care, and to anoint it well; and yet it was al-
most 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 neighbour.

Now, at this hour of the night, he wore only
a shirt of white woollen stuff, with a deep red

44 HOMO SUM.

border. His locks, usually so well-kept, seemed
to stand out from his head separately, and in-
stead of smoothing and confining 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 step-
ped 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

HOMO SUM. 45

he went up to the model, and clutched the
plastic mass of clay, as though it were the flesh
of his enemy.

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 into the ground, as violently as though he
were casting them at an antagonist 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 gra-
dually grew to be a gaze of extatic 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
rounding 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 had mastered this stormy excite-

46 HOMO SUM.

ment, 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 endeavoured to ap-
proach 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. Poly-
karp'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 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, irresolute, and speechless
she stood for some time behind the young man,

HOMO SUM. 47

and looked at the strongly illuminated and
beautiful features of the newly formed bust,
which was only too like its well-known proto-
type. 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 say-
ing, gravely and not without severity, as she
pointed to the statue,

"What does this mean?"

"What should it mean, mother?" answered
Polykarp 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
neighbour's wife/ was the commandment of the

48 HOMO SUM.

Lord on this mountain. And you? You think
I could not understand you? Who should un-
derstand 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 to your taste. Simply and plainly it
comes to this; as you can no longer see the
Gaul's wife in her own person, 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. Do-
rothea had never before spoken to him thus,
and to hear such words from the very lips

HOMO SUM. 49

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 committed a crime for the sake of a
stranger. It must seem both a mad and a sinful
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 endeavoured
to understand him, comprehend the overpower-
ing impulse which had driven him to this task.
He loved and honoured his mother with his
whole heart, and feeling that she was doing her-
self an injustice by her false and low estimate
of his proceedings, he interrupted her eager dis-
course, raising his hands imploringly to her.

Homo St/nt. II. 4

50 HOMO SUM.

"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 to commit the 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 something 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,

HOMO SUM. 51

by the aid of grey 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 sarcophagus 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 I1 was my-
self 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 silvery bell-like laughter — and
then — and then — . You know very well what I
learned yesterday. The unworthy wife of an
unworthy husband, the woman Sirona, is gone

4*

52 HOMO SUM.

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, interrupt-
ing her son who stood before her in great agita-
tion 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

HOMO SUM. S3

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 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 saying, "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 sun light."

"So that to-morrow the old madness may

54 HOMO SUM.

revive in you!" cried Dorothea. "Move out of
my way or take the hammer yourself."

"You order it, and you are my mother," said
Polykarp.

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 shone for many days in
summer-blue, and then suddenly the clouds
gather for a storm, when the first silent but
fearful flash with its noisy but harmless asso-
ciate 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 Sena-

HOMO SUM. 55

tor's it was more than twenty years since such
a thing had occurred, and yesterday the goat-
herd Miriam had disappeared. This was vexa-
tious, 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 al-
most indifferently to the Bishop Agapitus, who
prohibited his completing his lions. His son's
sad gaze, his crushed and broken aspect 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 Poly-
karp'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
apprenticeship 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

56 HOMO SUM.

master to execute designs of his own, and out
of the abundance of subjects which offered
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 rilled his
mind! how delightful had the hours of labour
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 immediately and to re-
main 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 resistance 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 pil-
lars, and to direct the cutting of them.

His father was a man of steel, and he him-

HOMO SUM. 57

self a lad of iron, and when he saw himself
compelled to yield to his father and to
leave his master's work-shop, to abandon 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 father's 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
Polykarp'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 Shep-
herd 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 honoured,
though indeed pagan, spot, which was intended

58 HOMO SUM.

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 labour.

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 wit-
ness 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.

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 devout admiration that it
had experienced, when for the first time, in
his early youth, he saw with his own eyes the

HOMO SUM. 59

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 com-
pelled 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, merciful Heaven! he
is my own beloved son!"

A blessed sense of rejoicing, such as he had

60 HOMO SUM.

not felt since his early youth, filled his heart,
and Dorothea's ardour seemed to him half piti-
ful 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 a better mistress for
you — Art — to whom belongs everything 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 emo-
tions, kissed the boy's forehead, his eyes, and
his cheeks.

HOMO SUM. 6l

CHAPTER III.

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
Antonius, 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
is 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 together 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

62 HOMO SUM.

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,

"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 bed-
room, 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 ser-
vants and children. Up to this time, an under-
standing 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.

I

HOMO SUM. 63

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 circumstances, 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 controlled
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. He had often told her that she could read
his soul like an open book, but she did not

64 HOMO SUM.

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' en-
terprises and work were the matters in hand.
And yet Petrus was the son of a pious Chris-
tian; but his grandfather had been a Greek
heathen, and hence perhaps a certain something
wrought in his blood which tormented her, be-
cause 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 ac-
companied 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,

HOMO SUM. 65

"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 ex-
tinguished the lamp. She would willingly have
said a loving word to him, for his contented ex-
pression touched and comforted 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 be-
tween them, they had gone to rest unrecon-
ciled, 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

Homo Sum. 11. <*

66 HOMO SUM.

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 peacefully 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 harmo-
nious 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

HOMO SUM. 67

bound to perfect a work with the help of an-
other, 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
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 weakness 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
Dorothea. "Who, indeed, could guess that an
old grey-beard would derogate from the duties

5*

68 HOMO SUM.

of his office as father and as judge for the sake
of a woman's smiling face in clay — as Esau sold
his birth-right for a mess of pottage ? "

"And to whom would it occur," asked Petrus,
taking up his wife's tone, "that so tender a
mother as you would condemn her favourite
son, because he laboured to earn peace for his
soul by a deed — by a work for which his master
might envy him?"

"I have indeed observed," interrupted Do-
rothea, "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 con-
tradict 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? Certainly 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

HOMO SUM. 69

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 here comes
Polykarp."

Petrus went forward to meet his son, and

7O HOMO SUM.

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
coloured 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
equanimity, for Polykarp was the same as
ever, and she read in his eyes that he felt to-
wards her the same as yesterday and as ever.

"Love," thought she, "is not extinguished
by injustice, 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,

HOMO SUM. 71

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 resorted, and which was
known as the Place of Communion, 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 in-
spiration.

"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 be-

72 HOMO SUM.

ginning is always the chief difficulty; only
begin at once to model your father's head."

"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 beaker of old wine."

"That will not hurt him," said Petrus, think-
ing 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 sleep-
ing, and the wine stood untouched on the table.
Petrus softly laid his hand on his son's fore-
head 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

HOMO SUM. 73

attention, 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
Polykarp. "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 Con-
stantine, and so I have tried to represent 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 atten-
tion, glanced involuntarily at the head of Sirona,
and Polykarp followed his eyes surprised and
almost startled.

The father and son had understood each
other, and Polykarp said,

"I had already thought of that."

Then he sighed bitterly, and said to him-
self,

"Yes and verily, she is the goddess of my
fate." But he dared not utter this aloud.

74 HOMO SUM.

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 ter-
rible— and yet I will represent the goddess with
a smiling mouth, for that which is most ter-
rible in her is, that she rules not by stern laws,
but smiles while she makes us her sport."

HOMO SUM. 75

CHAPTER IV.

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 atmosphere, 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 busily
engaged with some carving, that he did not
observe her approach.

"Kind good man!" thought Sirona, as she
perceived a steaming pot on the fire, and the

76 HOMO SUM.

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 pretty 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 returned, 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 perplexed
and miserable, but sleep and rest had long
since effaced 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.

HOMO SUM. 77

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 injury. The
brisk, lively little creature fell down powerless
whenever 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, lambe lay panting on
the fine woollen coverlet which Paulus 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 hospitable 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 crea-
creature?"

Sirona shrugged her shoulders, and said

78 HOMO SUM.

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 devoid of reason."

"lambe 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

HOMO SUM. 79

here every one believes the worst of me, al-
though I have done no one any harm, and no
one, no one loves me but lambe."

"But I know of one who loves every one
with a divine and equal love," interrupted
Paulus.

"I do not care for such a one," answered
Sirona. "lambe 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 indis-
pensable."

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 expression of
regret and admiration, "Satan, before he fell,
was the fairest among the pure spirits, and he

SO HOMO SUM.

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 lambe 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, saying,

"For the present we will trust to this broth
to compensate 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 beautiful, 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

HOMO SUM. 8 1

vessel out of which she was eating , and rising
in passionate haste, she exclaimed,

"That shall never, never be! — And when I
was sitting up there half dead, and took your
step for that of Phoebicius, the gods showed me
a way to escape from him, and from you or
any one 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 Phoebicius!
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 colourless, 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."

Homo Sum. II. 6

82 HOMO SUM.

"Love," laughed Sirona, "Phoebicius and
love! Only yesterday I told you, how cruelly
he used to torture 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 be-
tween 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 per-
haps 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, 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!

HOMO SUM. 83

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 bea£t in
there is whining. It wants to come to me, and
has not the strength to move."

Paulus looked after her sympathetically as
she disappeared 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 en-
trance, and which joined it at an angle as the
handle of a scythe joins the blade. She re-
mained a long time, and he could hear now and
then a tender word with which she tried to
comfort the suffering creature. Suddenly he
was startled by a loud and bitter cry from

84 HOMO SUM.

Sirona ; no doubt, the poor woman's affectionate
little companion was dead, and in the dim twi-
light of the cave she had seen its dulled eye,
and felt the stiffness of death overspreading
and paralysing 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.

At last she came out, her eyes red with
weeping. Paulus had guessed rightly for she
held the body of little lambe in her arms.

"How sorry I am," said Paulus, "the poor
little creature was so pretty."

Sirona nodded, sat down, and unfastened
the prettily embroidered band from the dog's
neck, saying half to herself, and half to
Paulus,

"My little Agnes worked this collar. I my-
self 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

HOMO SUM. 85

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," inter-
rupted Sirona. "Wherever I have been, I have

86 HOMO SUM.

attracted the eyes of men, and when I have
read in their looks that 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 favour
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

HOMO SUM. 87

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 Alexan-
dria?"

"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 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 to-
gether I shall soon find a ship that will carry

88 HOMO SUM.

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 continued,

"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 wilderness, a sorry, foolish
animal, and do not use one. Was that a stone
that fell? Aye, certainly, I hear a man's step;

HOMO SUM. 89

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, undecided, and seeking a
hiding-place for it, but two sharp eyes had
already detected him and his small burden
from the height above him; before he had
found a suitable 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 peni-

9O HOMO SUM.

tent's room in the church, the Senator and his
family in their places near the altar, and he was
much astonished to recognise 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 demeanour, 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 himself 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 fearful 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,

HOMO SUM. 91

"Can it be possible? Are you Paulus, the
Alexandrian?"

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 contempt,

"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 involuntarily 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
happen to you that will not be good for your
bones."

The speaker was indeed Paulus — and yet —
not Paulus; it was Menander, the pride of the
Palaestra, who had never let pass a word of his

92 HOMO SUM.

comrades that did not altogether please him.
And yet yesterday in the oasis he had quietly
submitted to far worse insults than Polykarp 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
attempted 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 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

HOMO SUM. 93

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 re-
turned to his charge with an uplifted and grate-
ful heart, and had heartily rejoiced once more
in the exalted and encouraging 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 snap-
ped 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 con-
tempt? Was he thinking of the fair listener in
the cave, who was a witness to his humiliation ?

94 HOMO SUM.

Had his wrath blazed up because he saw in
Polykarp, not so much an exasperated fellow-
believer, as merely a man who with bold scorn
had put himself in the path of another man ?

The lad and the grey-bearded athlete stood
face to face like mortal enemies ready for the
fight, and Polykarp did not waver, although he,
like most Christian youths, had been forbidden
to take part in the wrestling-games in the Pa-
laestra, and though he knew that he had to deal
with a strong and practised antagonist. He
himself was indeed no weakling, and his stormy
indignation added to his desire to measure him-
self 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

HOMO SUM. 95

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 address. He spoke in a quite altered
tone of indifference. "Throw yourself upon me,
and do with me what you will; I will not pre-
vent 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 belongs neither to you nor to me, and
who gives you a claim — ?"

"Who gives me a right over her?" inter-
rupted Polykarp, stepping close up to his ques-
tioner 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

96 HOMO SUM.

say, if there were twenty such as Phcebicius
here, she belongs to me. And because I re-
garded her as my 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 nurtured with care, and that only blooms
once in a hundred 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

HOMO SUM. 97

Most High — the image of her beauty — lives in
no 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 thou-
sand times, and though my father even, and my
own mother, and every one, every one pointed
at her and condemned 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 Paulus with warmth, "for I believed that
she was guilty, 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 splendour

Homo Sum. II. J

98 HOMO SUM.

of the lovely dream, that you call Sirona, has
been clouded by my fault — "

"Clouded? And by you?" laughed Poly-
karp. "Can the toad that plunges into the sea,
cloud its shining 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
anchorite's heart, but he was by this time on
his guard against himself, and he only said bit-
terly, and with hardly-won composure,

"And how was it then with the flower, and
with the bird, that were destroyed by beasts
without understanding? 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 —

HOMO SUM. 99

perhaps the very best indeed that you ever
heard in your life. Sirona is a worthy and in-
nocent woman, and at the time when Phcebi-
cius 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 man-
ner changed, and feeling at once incapable of
understanding the matter, and anxious to be-
lieve, he eagerly exclaimed,

"But yet the sheep-skin was yours, and you
let yourself be thrashed by Phcebicius without
defending yourself."

"So filthy an ape," said Paulus, imitating
Polykarp's voice, "needs many blows, and that
day I could not venture to defend myself be-
cause— 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. "Per-
haps the excitement which the sight of you

r

100 HOMO SUM.

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 Sirona?"

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 consummation 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

HOMO SUM. 101

he did not even dream that a feeling akin to
jealousy had begun to influence him, still he
was conscious that it was his lively repugnance
to seeing 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 enquirer,

"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 Poly-
karp'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

102 HOMO SUM.

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 hurry-
ing off to meet her. But Paulus placed him-
self 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—

HOMO SUM. 103

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 be-
fore the young man with outspread arms, mo-
tionless, but immoveable 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 answer
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 outstretched legs, folded arms, and rolling
eyes, as if rooted to the earth. He waited
till Polykarp had picked himself up, and, with-
out looking round, but pressing his hands to the
back of his head, had tottered away like a
drunken man.

104 HOMO SUM.

Paulus looked after him till he disappeared
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. 105

CHAPTER V.

"SHE will attract the attention of Damianus
or Salathiel 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 mountain-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-gym-
nast at Delphi. My marrow is not yet quite
dried up, and that I 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

106 HOMO SUM.

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 to-day.
We have now to think of your journey to
Alexandria."

"But it seems to me," replied Sirona, blush-
ing, "that I am safely hidden in your cave, and
just now you yourself said — "

"I warned you against the dangers of the
expedition," interrupted Paulus. "But since
that it has occurred to me that I know of a
shelter, and of a safe protector 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

HOMO SUM. ID/

to discover 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 coloured, "how it hap-
pened that Phcebicius took Hernias' sheep-skin
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 journey 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-

IOS HOMO SUM.

town on the western declivity of the mountain;
he shipped the charcoal for Egypt, which was
made in the valleys of the peninsula by burning
the sajal acacia, and he had formerly supplied fuel
for the drying-room of the papyrus-factory of
Paulus' father. He now had a business connexion
with his brother, and Paulus himself had had deal-
ings 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 hospitality 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 indis-
pensable it seemed to him that he should him-
self 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

HOMO SUM. 109

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 coloured marble, many-coloured
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 con-
spicuous gleam led him to the reflection, 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 Phce-
bicius 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 pos-

1 10 HOMO SUM.

sessed a few drachmas, and with these he could
purchase what he needed from the wife and
daughter of the goat-herd. Although the sky
was now covered with mist and a hot swelter-
ing 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 overwhelming
torrent of new and deep feelings which had
flooded her soul ever since she had heard Poly-
karp's ardent hymn of love.

HOMO SUM. Ill

Paulus, in the last few hours, was Menander
again, but the lonely woman in the cavern — the
cause of this transformation — the wife of Phce-
bicius, 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 will-
ingly, nay, she would have withdrawn even
without his desire, and have sought for solitude ;
for she felt that something mighty, hitherto
unknown to her, and incomprehensible even to
herself, was passing in her soul, and that a name-
less 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 delightful. An
emotion such as she had never before known had
mastered her, and she felt, since hearing Poly-
karp's speech, as if a new and purer blood was
flowing rapidly through her veins. Every nerve
quivered like the leaves of the poplars in her

112 HOMO SUM.

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 bitterness was infused into the sweet refresh-
ing dew of those tears. Fair flowers of never
dreamed of splendour 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 underground-room, where no light of day
can ever shine, and who at last is allowed to
look at the blue heavens, at the splendour 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.

HOMO SUM. 113

"That is love!" were the words that her
heart sang in triumph, and as her memory
looked back on the admirers who had ap-
proached 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.

"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

Homo Sum. II. 8

114 HOMO SUM.

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 gratitude 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 com-

HOMO SUM. 115

panions, wreathed with flowers, and all dressed
in their best, in the procession 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 enticed 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 mo-
ther, and she pictured him as she had frequently
seen him following his parents by the side of

Il6 HOMO SUM.

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, ex-
cepting 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
any where, all hearts were united by a tender
affection. It then occurred to her that Paulus
had just now advised her to turn to the cruci-
fied God of the Christians, who was full of an
equal and divine love to all men. To him Poly-
karp also prayed — was praying perhaps at 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 be-
loved friend, from whom everything else con-
spired to part her.

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 inno-

HOMO SUM. II/

cently; 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 heart is! And they sa%y
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 sin-
less. 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, indeed, I also would fain remain
innocent, and yet how can that be when I can-
not help being devoted to Polykarp, and yet I
am another man's wife. But am I indeed the

Il8 HOMO SUM.

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 Licinius laid a large one, that he had
caught, on my bare neck. I started, and shud-
dered, and screamed out 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 sor-
row, 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

HOMO SUM. 119

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 Shepherd, 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

120 HOMO SUM.

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 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 hus-
band 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

HOMO SUM. 121

then drew fancy-pictures of the future in smil-
ing day-dreams, which by degrees assumed
sharper outlines and brighter colours.

She saw herself united to Polykarp, and as
the daughter of Petrus and Dorothea, at home
in the Senator'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 labours, and won praise, and looks of ap-
proval. 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 admiration, 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
arranged all the things that lay about in con-
fusion, and dusted it, while he followed her
every movement with 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

122 HOMO SUM.

his breast, and would have thrown her arms
round his neck, while her 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 en-
trance of the cave. It was already dusk, and
heavy rain-drops were falling from the dark
clouds which seemed to shroud the mountain
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 fol-
low 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

HOMO SUM. 123

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 day-light. 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
together, and the very rock in which her cave
was formed quaked.

Crushed and trembling she drew back into
the inmost 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.

124 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER VI.

IT was quite dark in Sirona's cavern, fear-
fully dark, and the blacker grew the night
which shrouded her, the more her terror in-
creased. 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 op-
pressed 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

HOMO SUM. 125

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 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 returning? Was it he — was it Poly-
karp 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 wanderer per-
ceived the faint gleam of her white dress, and
called out to her. It was Paulus.

125 HOMO SUM.

She drew a deep breath of relief when she
recognised 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," in-
terrupted 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
mountain is so grieved at it, that streams of
tears are everywhere flowing over his stony
cheeks. It is wet even here. Now go back

HOMO SUM. 127

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 sheep-skin here you
will find the dress and veil of an Amalekite
woman, and if your traces are to be kept hidden
from Phoebicius, you must accommodate your-
self to this disguise; for if the people down
there were to see you as I saw you to-day, they
would think that Aphrodite 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 reach-
ing Alexandria without impediment, still I do
not know — "

"It shall be my business to provide for you
there." Paulus interrupted with a decision that

128 HOMO SUM.

was almost boastful, and that somewhat dis-
turbed 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, 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
anchorite's promises.

How often had she envied those who pos-
sessed all that her strange protector now pro-
mised her — and now it had not the smallest
charm for her ; and, fully determined in any case
not to follow Paulus, whom she began to distrust,

HOMO SUM. 129

she replied, as she coldly returned his greeting,
"There are many hours yet before to-morrow
evening in which we can discuss everything."

While Paulus was with great difficulty re-
kindling 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

Homo Sum. II. 9

130 HOMO SUM.

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, and quite decided that she would neither
quit the cave, nor entrust herself to the an-
chorite, 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 impos-
sibility 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

HOMO SUM. 131

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 smil-
ing 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 restlessly 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 Poly-
karp 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 a fall on the stony
soil of the Sacred Mountain, which was as hard

9*

132 HOMO SUM.

as iron, must hurt more than a fall on the san
of the arena.

"The impudent fellow," thought he, "richly
deserved 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 Poly-
karp'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 re-
serve, 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

nd

HOMO SUM. 133

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 wo-
man'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 darkness and the rain. He walked
restlessly up and down, and an agonising long-
ing 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 throb-
bing 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

134 HOMO SUM.

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
sheep-skin again; and supposing he were thus
enabled to see her, what next?

When he had stepped across the threshold,
an inward voice warned him to return, and told
him that he must be treading the path of un-
righteousness, for that he was stealing in on tip-
toe like a thief; but the excuse was ready at
once. "That is for fear of waking her, if she is
asleep."

And now all farther 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

HOMO SUM. 135

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
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 pro-
jection 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?

136 HOMO SUM.

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 listened — while his own strength
failed him even to draw a breath — listened to
the soft regular breathing that heaved 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 ap-
parition, he drew back, and raised his eyes
from the rosy lips to the hand that rested on
the sleeper's brow.

The lamp-light 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 Antioch, with a sphere
upon her head, and bearing Amalthea's horn in
her hand.

HOMO SUM. 137

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 Hernias' mother. In the
golden circlet was set an onyx, on which pre-
cisely 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 re-
peated again and again, as though to crave
forgiveness, the name of "Magdalen."

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."

138 HOMO SUM.

"Throw it away!" exclaimed Paulus, "it
will bring you nothing but misfortune." Then
he collected himself, went out into the air with
his head sunk on his breast, and there, throw-
ing 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?"

Plunged in despair he beat his forehead,
groaning out, "All, all in vain!"

HOMO SUM. 139

CHAPTER VII.

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 suffer-
ing 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 Hennas' 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

140 HOMO SUM.

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 midst of the strug-
gles and affairs of the world clings to the
Heavenward road, and never lets himself be
diverted 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 can-
not 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

HOMO SUM. 141

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,
tender light, and utter darkness were alternat-
ing with bewildering rapidity, when Paulus at
last collected himself, 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

142 HOMO SUM.

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 wilderness and from the Sacred Moun-
tain he felt impelled to 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 your-
self 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 possession of his mind.
Exhausted, unstrung, full of loathing of himself
and life, he sank down on a stone, and thought

HOMO SUM. 143

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 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."

144 HOMO SUM.

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 un-
happy woman to whom he owed reparation for
much evil, when a loud cry of distress 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 neighbourhood 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, be-
cause a large flat stone supported by a stout
pillar of granite, stood up far above the sur-
rounding rocks, and afforded protection from
the sun, even at noon-day, when not a hand's
breadth 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 distinct than before, and beyond
a doubt it was the voice of a human being.

HOMO SUM. 14$

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 power-
less. As he raised the injured man, who still
uttered low moans, and supported his head on
his broad breast, the sweet perfume of fine oint-
ment 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 suf-
ferer who, thus called upon, moved and mut-
tered 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

Homo Sum. II. 10

146 HOMO SUM.

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 recognised 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 accepted 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 dressing. The water with which
Paulus now washed his head reopened them,

HOMO SUM. 147

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 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 mountain rose in front of
him, its majestic mass glowing in the rosy
dawn, while light translucent vapour 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 com-
mandments 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

10*

148 HOMO SUM.

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 neighbour'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 ac-
customed to watch the distance, a handkerchief
was waving as a signal that the enemy were
approaching.

HOMO SUM. 149

He could not be mistaken, and as in the
face of approaching danger he collected him-
self 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
outstripped 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 agonised 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 tenderly as a father
might over the pale face, and pressed a gentle

150 HOMO SUM.

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 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 clamour were rushing like wild tor-
rents down every gorge and cleft of the moun-
tain-side.

"It is too late," sighed the anchorite. "If I
only could — if I only knew — "

"Hallo! hallo! holy Paulus!" a shrill wo-

HOMO SUM. ISI

man'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 Blem-
myes 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," inter-
rupted 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

153 HOMO SUM.

you to do besides grieving over a hole in Poly-
karp'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 sweet-
heart to nurse."

"Demon!" exclaimed Paulus, taking up a
stone.

"Let him lie!" repeated Miriam. "I will
betray her hiding-place to Phoebicius, if you do
not do as Hermas 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 agonised scream, and in a few seconds

HOMO SUM. 153

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, piti-
less, 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,

154 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 still, 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.

HOMO SUM. 155

"Let it remain there," Paulus begged of
her; he bent over the senseless man once more
to kiss his forehead, raised his hand towards
Sirona in sign of blessing, and rushed out into
the open air.

156 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER VIII.

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 destina-
tion more quickly by that road than by follow-
ing the better road in the other ravine, which
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 pre-
cipitous 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

HOMO SUM. 157

"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 neighbourhood, was at
once espied by them, and the side of the rock
which was turned to the road-way was so pre-
cipitous and smooth that it remained inac-
cessible 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 form of a horse-shoe, of which the
ends abutted on the declivity of the short road.
This structure was so roughly and inartistic-
ally heaped together that it looked as if
formed by nature rather than by the hand of

158 HOMO SUM.

man. The rough and unfinished appearance
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 collected by the anchorites, in
case of an incursion, to roll 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 filled 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 Blemmyes,
the wild inhabitants of the desert-country
which borders the fertile lands of Egypt and
Nubia, and particularly 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 de-

HOMO SUM. 159

fenceless hermits treasured in their caves had
tempted the Blemmyes 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
Phoebicius, 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 an-
nihilation of the wild tribes and gave ground
to hope that such a lesson might serve as a
warning to the sons of the desert. But if

160 HOMO SUM.

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 in-
cursion 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 behind 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 mountain who had taken shelter from the
storm under their little penthouses, they would
have reached the opposite shore, the mountain,

HOMO SUM. l6l

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 provided himself with a bow and
arrows and some bread, and then, after mutter-
ing a farewell to his father who was asleep in
his cave, he set out for Ra'ithu. 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 cheer-
fully ready to fulfil it even at the cost of his
life, he hastened forward in the bright moon-
light. He quitted the path at the spot where,
to render the ascent possible even to the vigor-
ous desert-travellers, it took a zig-zag line,
and clambered 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

Homo Sum. II. II

1 62- HOMO SUM.

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 op-
pressive, and as the blood rushed more pain-
fully 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 .des-
tination as soon as possible. v . ~

It was the third afternoon when he saw
from afar the palms of Ra'ithu, 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 de-
clined their call, and was minded to remain on
the Holy Mountain.

.HOMO SUM. 163

Then Hernias proceeded to the little har-
bour, to bargain with the fishermen of the
place for the boat which he needed. While he
was talking with an old Amalekite boat-man,
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.

"It is waiting for the caravan from Petra,"
he said. "There, on the dromedary, is the em-
peror's great warrior who commands the Romans
in Pharan."

Hermas saw Phcebicius for the first time,
and as he rode up towards him and the fisher-
man 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 yet 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,

n*

1 64 HOMO SUM.

Talib had previously seen the youth by his
father's side; he recognised him and asked how
long he had been there, and if he had come
direct from the mountain. Hermas answered
him as was becoming, and understood at once
that it was not he that the centurion was seek-
ing.

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 humour with
which his aspect rilled him, and when Phcebi-
cius himself asked him as to whether he had
not met on his way with a fair-haired woman
and a limping grey-hound, he replied, repress-
ing his laughter with difficulty,

"Aye, indeed! I did see such a woman

HOMO SUM. 165

and her dog, but I do not think it was
lame."

"Where did you see her?" asked Phoebicius
hastily.

Hernias coloured, for he was obliged to tell
an untruth, and it might be that he would do
Sirona an injury by giving false information.
He therefore ventured to give no decided an-
swer, but enquired,

"Has the woman committed some crime that
you are pursuing her?"

"A great one!" replied Talib, "she is my
lord's wife, and — "

"What she has done wrong concerns me
alone," said Phoebicius, 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,

1 66 HOMO SUM.

"I am the emperor's centurion, 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 grand-daughter. She
had gold hair, and a rosy face, and the grey-
hound that followed her was called lambe."

"Where did you meet her?" shrieked the
centurion.

"In the fishing- village at the foot of the
mountain," replied Hermas. "She got into a
boat, and away it went!"

"Towards the north?" asked the Gaul.

"I think so," replied Hermas, "but I do
not know, for I was in a hurry, and could not
look after her."

HOMO SUM, 167

"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 con-
sidering. "And beyond Elim there is no water
before the Wells of Moses. Certainly if we
could get good dromedaries — "

"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."

Phoebicius looked down gloomily consider-
ing 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

man."

Hermas looked after him as he went away,

1 68 HOMO SUM.

and laughed out loud when he saw him dis-
appear 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 himself
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 accom-
panied him, and who understood the manage-
ment of the sails and rudder, to push the boat,
which was laid up on the sand, down into 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, un-
skilfully it is true, but with mighty strokes.

"The wind is in our favour," he called out
to the anchorite as he hauled round the sail

HOMO SUM. 169

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 ad-
mired the reflection 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

1 70 HOMO SUM.

something better to do than to think of a
woman. Indeed, he found it easy to forget
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
Ra'ithu 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 warrior who had been sent out to
reconnoitre, and in carrying 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 hid-
den under sand and stones.

As soon as it was dusk, the anchorite in his

HOMO SUM.

boat went towards the place of embarkation,
and when the Blemmyes, in the darkness of
midnight, drew their first bark into the water,
Hernias saikd off ahead of the enemy, landed
in much danger below the western declivity
of the mountain, and hastened up towards
Sinai to warn the Pharanite watchmen on the
beacon.

He gained the top of the difficult peak be-
fore sunrise, 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 in-
cessantly 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 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

172 HOMO SUM.

quitted her hard bed before day-break 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 Her-
mas.

For many weeks the sick man had been so
accustomed 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 readiness to serve
him. Stephanus would have suffered in dis-
pensing 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 Phcebicius had killed him in
consequence of her betrayal. Perhaps all that
Stephanus told her of his son's journey of in-
vestigation was an invention of Paulus to spare

HOMO SUM. 173

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 neighbourhood 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 re-
turn 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
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 smoothe it, and
washed her face with as much zeal as if she

174 HOMO SUM:.

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 tor-
rent from the mountain height had shed itself
into her retreat and had driven her out of it.
Wet through, shelterless, tormented 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 recognised 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

HOMO SUM. 17$

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,
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 distraction which
confused her mind, and the misery of abandon-
ment 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 outstretched neck
and strung sinews, motionless. Then she broke
suddenly into a loud and piercing shout of joy,

176 HOMO SUM.

and flinging up her arms she flew up the moun-
tain towards a traveller who came swiftly down
to meet her.

"Hermas! Hermas!" she shouted, and all
the sunny delight of her heart was reflected
in her cry so clearly and purely that the sym-
pathetic chords in the young man's soul echoed
the sound, and he hailed her with joyful wel-
come.

He had never before greeted her thus, and
the tone of his voice revived her poor crushed
heart like a restorative 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

HOMO SUM. 177

time praised herself to him, but Hermas ex-
claimed,

"That is a good girl! and I will not forget
it. You are a wild, silly thing, but I believe
that you are 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 watchmen 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.

Homo Sum. 77, 12

i;8 HOMO SUM.

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 calling out words of abuse.

Guided by the idea that she should find the
Alexandrian at the nearest well, she went on
and called him, then hurrying on from cave to
cave she delivered her message in Hennas'
name,. happy to serve him.

HOMO SUM. 179

CHAPTER IX.

THEY were all collected behind the rough
wall on the edge of the ravine — the strange
men who had turned their back on life with
all its joys and pains, its duties and its de-
lights, 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 re-
nounced all other effort. In the voiceless desert,
far from the enticing echoes of the world, it
might be easy to kill every sensual 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 incorporate 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

12*

l8o HOMO SUM.

sought through the purifying power of suffer-
ing 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 Him-
self 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

HOMO SUM. iS I

the chosen people, as mentioned in the Scrip-
tures; but as yet there was no connexion be-
tween the individual penitents, no order ruled
their lives; they might still be counted by tens,
though ere long they numbered hundreds and
thousands.

The threat of danger had brought all
these contemners of the world and of life in
stormy haste to the shelter of the tower, in
spite of their readiness to die. Only old Kos-
mas, 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 Ge-
lasius, 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
anchorites, who rushed through the narrow
door of the watch-tower and into its inner-
room till it was filled to overflowing, and

1 82 HOMO SUM.

Paulus, who in the presence of danger had fully
recovered his equanimity, was obliged to refuse
admission to a newcomer 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 resigna-
tion to God's guidance and their pious prayers,
wrung their hands, and at the same time how
painfully anxious each one was to hide the
little property he had saved first from the dis-
approval 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 en-
couragement. All three did their utmost to
revive the confidence of the terrified men, and

HOMO SUM. 183

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

184 HOMO SUM.

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 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 Sala-
thiel the Syrian. "You have served in Caesar's
army, and you proved your courage and know-
ledge of war in the last raid. You shall com-
mand 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

HOMO SUM. 185

understand me in the noise of battle. Let Pau-
lus 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 in-
domitable 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 an-
chorites, "is tall and strong. If he would — "

But Orion eagerly excused himself from
assuming the dangerous office, and when An-
dreas and Joseph also refused with no less de-

1 86 HOMO SUM.

cision the leadership that was offered them,
Stephanus said,

"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 ardour,
accepted Stephanus' commission as a matter of
course, and set to work like a general to or-
ganise the helpless wearers of sheep-skin.

Some he sent to the top of the tower to
keep watch, others he charged with the trans-
port 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 pass words with all; he

HOMO SUM. 187

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 Phcebicius and the
captain of the Pharanites. The Gaul put a
few short questions to Hermas, whom he re-
cognised immediately, for since he had met
him at the harbour of Raithu he could not
forget his eyes, which reminded him of those
of Glycera; and after receiving his hasty and
decided answers he issued rapid and prudent
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 approached over the

1 88 HOMO SUM.

plain. If the Blemmyes allowed themselves to
be tempted thither, a second third of the war-
riors of the oasis, that could easily lie in am-
bush 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 sea-
ports— 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-pos-
sessed 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 Raithu,

HOMO SUM. 189

Miriam attempted to follow the troops he
was leading, but he observed her, and called
out, "Go up to the fort, child, to my father."
And the shepherdess obeyed without hesita-
tion.

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 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,
recognised 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

1 90 HOMO SUM.

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 di-
vision of the Pharanites and the enemy have
met. The outcry comes nearer and nearer."

"Then all will be well," cried Stephanus ex-
citedly. " If they only take the bait and let them-
selves 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 be-

HOMO SUM.

comes the central-point of the struggle the de-
fenders will need stones to fling."

These words were heard by several of the
anchorites, 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 penitents 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 company 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 Saite
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 ser-
vice, and have given up all that can rejoice the
heart, and have taken every kind of suffering

IQ2 HOMO SUM.

upon us to please Thee! 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 proceed-
ing 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.

They crowded together again in terror;
Salathiel the Syrian, had ventured to the edge
of the abyss, and had looked over old Stepha-
nus' shoulder down into the hollow, and when
he rushed back to his companions, crying in

HOMO SUM. 193

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 over-
come 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 her-
mits, perplexed 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.

HwtoSnm. //. 13

194 HOMO SUM.

"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 righting."

The anchorites noticed his gestures, which
were indeed those of a desperate man, and Ser-
gius 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 light-
nings that played round the peak of Sinai ? Why
does not darkness fall upon us to affright the
heathen? Why does not the earth open her
mouth to swallow them up like the company of
Korah?"

"The Might of God," cried Dulas, "tar-
ries 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 drag-

HOMO SUM. 195

ging rather than leading the feeble Stephanus to
the unguarded eastern wall. "That you are,
for instead of resisting His enemies you blas-
pheme God, and disgrace yourselves by your
miserable 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
interrupted 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 Pha-
ran had gone forth to meet the Blemmyes, he

196 HOMO SUM.

had no peace in the oasis, and, after enjoining
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, accompanied 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 detain 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 threaten-
ingly 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

HOMO SUM. 197

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 indeed 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 at-
tack of the Blemmyes with success, for Phoebi-
cius, rushing forward with his men from their
ambush, had fallen upon the compact mass of
the sons of the desert in flank and, spreading

198 HOMO SUM.

death and ruin, had divided them into two
bodies. The well-trained and well-armed Ro-
mans seemed to have an easy task with their
naked opponents, 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 frequent battles with the
imperial troops, and so soon as they perceived
that they were no match for their enemies in
pitched battle, their leaders set up a strange
shrill cry, their ranks dissolved, and they dis-
persed 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 oppor-
tunity for exercising his pious office, for be-
fore him stood the shepherdess whom he had
already observed on his arrival, and she said
with much embarrassment, but clearly and

HOMO SUM. 199

quickly, "Old Stephanus there, my lord bishop
— Hermas' 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 advice
that Hermas had been obliged to join the de-
putation 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.

Stephanus put out his hand to the bishop
who sat down beside him, signed to the by-
standers to leave them alone, and listened at-
tentively to the feeble words of the sufferer.
When he had ceased speaking, Agapitus said,

" I praise the Lord with you for having per-

200 HOMO SUM.

mitted 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," an-
swered the sick man. "The world lies far be-
hind 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, 'For-
give us our sins as we forgive them that sin
against us?' Do you remember the words, 'If
ye forgive men their trespasses your heavenly
Father will also forgive you?"1

"Not only have I pardoned Glycera," an-
swered Stephanus, "but I have taken her again
into my heart of hearts; but the man who
basely seduced her, the wretch, who although

.

HOMO SUM, 201

I had done him a thousand benefits, betrayed
me, robbed me and dishonoured 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 — "

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 standing 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

202 HOMO SUM.

ravine, for the Blemmyes had not indeed fled,
but had only dispersed themselves, 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
enquired of Orion.

"They are withdrawing into the gorge
through which the road leads up here," an-
swered 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 Aga-
pitus 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 Emperor'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 shoul-
ders stoutly to it, Orion! one more push, Sala-
thiel! There it goes, it crashes down — If only

HOMO SUM. 203

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."

"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 persuade
them to be sparing with the precious mis-
siles.

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 Ste-
phanus.

"Agapitus is right," replied the Alexandrian.
"I have much to expiate, and fighting brings

HOMO SUM.

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 Hermas every-
thing 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

HOMO SUM. 20$

my brother is in high favour 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

206 HOMO SUM.

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 Alexan-
drian, 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 attention, 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 com-
posure, stared first at the old man and then at
Paulus.

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 hollower grew his cheeks and the
paler his lips; at the same time he still held

HOMO SUM. 207

out his hand to the other, perhaps in token of
forgiveness.

So passed a long minute. Then Phcebicius
recollected that he had climbed the wall in the
Emperor's service, and stamping with im-
patience 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 him-
self 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 for-
giveness!" screamed the old man. "He shall
be damned."

Before the Alexandrian could hinder him,
the loose stone over which the enemies were
wrestling in breathless combat gave way, and
both were hurled into the abyss with the falling
rock.

208 HOMO SUM.

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 vain."

HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER X.

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

Homo Stint, II. 1 -

2IO HOMO SUM.

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 rest-
ing, stood another and a smaller one, and be-
tween 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."

"He died a noble death, in battle for those
he loved," said the Senator consolingly.

"Paulus was near him when he fell," re-
plied Hermas. "My father fell from the wall
while defending the tower; but look here this
girl — poor child — who used to keep your goats,

HOMO SUM. 211

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 shepherdess, 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 saviour 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 to-
gether. Hermas involuntarily glanced up at
the window where more than once he had seen

HOMO SUM.

Sirona, and said, as he pointed to the centu-
rion's house, "He too fell."

Petrus nodded and opened the door of his
house. In the hall, which was lighted up, Do-
rothea came hastily to meet him, asking-, "No
news yet of Polykarp ? "

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.

"That is just what I think," replied Petrus,
looking down to the ground. Then he turned
to Hermas and introduced him to his wife.

Dorothea received the young man with warm
sympathy; 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 preparations
for their guest, but Petrus detained Marthana,
and said, "Hermas may fill Antonius' place; he
has still something to do with some of the work-
men. Where are Jethro and the house-slaves?"

HOMO SUM. 213

"They have already eaten," said Dorothea.

The husband and wife looked at each other,
and Petrus said with a melancholy smile, " I be-
lieve 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 fol-
low 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 Hernias 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 fur-
nished with guests.

At last Petrus turned to his guest and said,

214 HOMO SUM.

"You were to tell me how the shepherdess Mi-
riam lost her life in the struggle. She had run
away from our house — "

"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
had too much of it and went away. Then she
would grow angry, and if I would not do her

HOMO SUM. 215

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.

"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

2l6 HOMO SUM.

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
below had discovered their boats, which they
had hidden under sand and stones, and had
carried them off to their harbour. The boy
from Raithu 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 hun-
dred 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.

HOMO SUM. 217

The Blemmyes outnumbered us ; they soon
surrounded 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 madman and wrestled with
the heathen now here and now 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.

2l8 HOMO SUM.

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 understood; at least I understood that some
dreadful misfortune 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 because I obeyed my father in every-
thing— that I need yield to no one. I could not
have borne to be vanquished before her and I
flung the heathen to the ground and slew him
with my axe. I was only vaguely conscious of
her presence, for during my severe struggle I
could see nothing but my adversary. But sud-
denly I heard a loud scream, and Miriam sank
bleeding close before me. While I was kneel-
ing 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 — "

HOMO SUM. 219

"She saved you at the cost of her own life,"
said Petrus completing the lad's sentence, for
at the recollection of the occurrence his voice
had failed and his eyes overflowed with
tears.

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 punished 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 in-
describable tenderness. 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."

220 HOMO SUM.

"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
Dorothea. "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 men-
tioned 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 ? "

HOMO SUM. 221

"Paulus!" cried Hermas. "How can you
believe it?"

"Phcebicius found his sheep-skin in his wife's
room," replied Petrus gravely. "And the im-
pudent Alexandrian recognised 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 Phoebicius flogged him?" cried Her-
mas beside himself. "And the poor fellow bore
this disgrace and your blame, and all — all for
my sake. Now I understand 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,

222 HOMO SUM.

"Paulus never even saw Sirona, and I re-
peat it, if there is a man who may boast of
being good and pure and quite without sin, it
is he. For me, and to save me from punish-
ment 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 shameful 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 vehe-
ment speech. "Your friend acknowledged with
his own lips — "

"Then he told a lie out of pure goodness,"
Hermas insisted. "The sheep-skin that the Gaul
found was 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 armour; when he un-
expectedly returned I leaped out into the street
and forgot that luckless sheep-skin. Paulus met
me as I fled, and said he would set it all right,
and sent me away — to take my place and save

HOMO SUM. 223

my father a great trouble. Look at me as severely
as you will, Dorothea, but it was only in thought-
less 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 never com-
mitted 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

224 HOMO SUM.

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
Dorothea, "and my heart is bleeding. Why
did you not come to us, Hernias, 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

HOMO SUM. 225

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 con-
solation.

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 agonised
father said softly — in deep dejection, and pre-
pared 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.

M. II. 15

226 HOMO SUM.

"It is not Jethro and Antonius," said Pe-
trus, "they have a key."

Marthana had gone up to him, and she
clung to him as he leaned far out of the win-
dow 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

HOMO SUM.

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 herself 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 fore-
head and said, "Poor woman; we know now
that we have done you an injustice, and will
try to make it good." The Senator too went

ID*

HOMO SUM.

up to her, took her hand and added his greet-
ings 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 expected to be expelled as a cast-away
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 tumbled
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 Dorothea as she raised the brazen knocker
of the Senator's door, and now — a father, a mo-
ther, a sister opened their arms to her, and an
affectionate home smiled upon her. Her heart

HOMO SUM. 229

and soul overflowed with boundless emo-
tion and unlimited thankfulness, and weeping
loudly, she pressed her clasped hands to her
breast

But she spared only a few moments for the
enjoyment of these feelings of delight, for there
was no happiness 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 al-
ready wasted an hour, for I lost my way in the
ravines. Get ready Petrus to come back to
the mountain with me at once, for — but do not
be startled Dorothea, 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 Poly-
karp, and what has happened to him?"

"Prepare yourself to hear bad news," said
Sirona, looking at the pair with mournful anxiety

ttOMO SUM.

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 accents 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, never-
theless 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

HOMO SUM. £31

had ended. "Quick, the basket with the ban-
dages. 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— "

"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 waymarks! But stay — Before us a peni-
tent 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 per-
haps Agapitus — "

"The spring where I got the water to cool

232 HOMO SUM.

Polykarp's wound, Paulus calls the partridge 's-
spring."

"The partridge's-spring," repeated the Se-
nator, "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 neighbour 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

HOMO SUM. 233

everything for the night-expedition, and came
and went, they found time to put many ques-
tions and say many affectionate words to
Sirona. Marthana, even without interrupting
her work, set food and drink for the weary wo-
man 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 the 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!"

234 HOMO SUM.

In a moment she had a basin at hand,
and was carefully bathing the wounds in Si-
rona'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, Si-
rona attempted 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 to strictly forbid her
to accompany them. He felt sure of finding
his son without her, for one of Magadon's
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.

HOMO SUM. 235

"Do you know," he asked, "what has hap-
pened 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 deaconess 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,

236 HOMO SUMT.

"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 sup-
port."

"My child, my daughter!" cried the deacon-
ess, deeply moved; she bent over Sirona, kissed
her forehead 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;

HOMO SUM. 237

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.

238 HOMO SUM.

CHAPTER XI.

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 accompanied by his father and his sister.

"Yet an hour," thought the anchorite, "and
the mother will have her son again, yet a week
and Polykarp will rise from his bed, yet a year
and he will remember 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 laboured to construct, on
which I had thought to scale Heaven, and
which looked to me so lofty and so safe, there

HOMO SUM. 239

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 mo-
ment. 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 Hernias' guilt he had abjured
wearing his sheep-skin; now his body, ac-
customed to the warm wrap, suffered severely,
and his blood coursed with fevered haste through
his veins since the efforts, nightwatches, and
excitement of the last few days. He drew his
little coat close round him with a shiver and
muttered, "I feel like a sheep that has been
shorn in mid-winter, 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

240 HOMO SUM.

undoubtedly the right one, but so soon as I
seem to be nearing it, my weakness snatches
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 accom-
pany me even there — does not once again
frustrate all my labour. He who takes his Self
with him into the desert, is not alone."

Paulus sighed deeply and then pursued
his reflections: "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

HOMO SUM. 241

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 Thebaid there dwelt a peni-
tent who thought he led a perfectly saintly
life and far transcended all his companions
in stern virtue. Once he dreamed that there
was in Alexandria a man even more perfect
than himself; Phabis was his name, and he
was a shoemaker, dwelling in the White road
near the harbour 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 astonish-
ment. 'I? well, my Saviour! I work early

Homo Sum. 11. 1 6

242 HOMO SUM.

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 roads lead to God, and we
-and I—"

Again a cold shiver interrupted his medita-
tion, and as morning approached the cold was
so keen that he endeavoured to light a fire.
While he was painfully blowing the charcoal
Hermas came up to him.

He had learned from Polykarp's escort
where Paulus 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 dishonouring punishment of his
fault.

Paulus declined all pity or thanks, and
spoke to Hermas of his father and of his fu-
ture, until it was light, and the young man
prepared to go down to the oasis to pay the
last honours to the dead. To his entreaty that

HOMO SUM. 243

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 affectionate 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 lov-
ingly 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 day-break; Hermas

244 HOMO SUM.

went 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 miserable, brown-skinned shepherdess
Miriam seemed to him a thousandfold 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,

HOMO SUM. 245

"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 serve false
gods, to covet your neighbour'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
weakness, and prayer."

246 HOMO SUM.

Once more he embraced the departing youth,
then he went across the sand of the shore back
to the mountain 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 Mountain 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 Byzantium with great
honour, and in whose house the Gaulish woman
Sirona presided as a true and loving wife and
mother.

After his parting from Hermas Paulus dis-
appeared. 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 con-

HOMO SUM. 247

solation 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 emaci-
ated hands were closely clasped over Magdalena'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 invisible 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.
Polykarp, 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 alleviated in secret,

248 HOMO SUM.

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."

THE END.

PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHED

SU2 .a
00 f*\

to •

e

CV2

3

C (f
•H »

P

B

?H 6

1 1

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
LIBRARY

Acme Library Card Pocket

Under Pat. " Ref. Index File."
Made by LIBRARY BUREAU