LITMIR.BIZ

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spirits flee at the name of God.”

      “I have called upon Him,” sighed Hermas, “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 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 splendors 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 Stephanus, “and yet the journey quite altered you. How often before that I used to think when I heard you laugh that the sound must surely please our Father in Heaven. And now? You used to be like a singing bird, and now you go about silent, you look sour and morose, and evil thoughts trouble your sleep.”

      “That is my loss,” answered Hermas. “Pray let go of my hand; the night will soon be past, and you have the whole live-long day to lecture me in.” Stephanus sighed, and Hermas returned to his couch.

      Sleep avoided them both, and each knew that the other was awake, and would willingly have spoken to him, but dissatisfaction and defiance closed the son’s lips, and the father was silent because he could not find exactly the heart-searching words that he was seeking.

      At last it was morning, a twilight glimmer struck through the opening of the cave, and it grew lighter and lighter in the gloomy vault; the boy awoke and rose yawning. When he saw his father lying with his eyes open, he asked indifferently, “Shall I stay here or go to morning worship?”

      “Let us pray here together,” begged the father. “Who knows how long it may yet be granted to us to do so? I am not far from the day that no evening ever closes. Kneel down here, and let me kiss the image of the Crucified.”

      Hermas did as his father desired him, and as they were ending their song of praise, a third voice joined in the ‘Amen.’

      “Paulus!” cried the old man. “The Lord be praised! pray look to my wound then. The arrow head seeks to work some way out, and it burns fearfully.”

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

      “That is much easier,” sighed the old man. “The Lord has mercy on me for your goodness’ sake.”

      “My goodness? I am a vessel of wrath,” replied Paulus, with a deep, rich; sonorous voice, and his 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 cheerfully: “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 as the exceptionally big man looked in his sheepskin, 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 sheep-skin, Hermas; you must go down to the oasis to the Senator Petrus, and fetch a good sleeping-draught for our sick man from him or from Dame Dorothea, the deaconess. Just look! the youngster has really thought of his father’s breakfast—one’s own stomach is a good reminder. Only put the bread and the water down here by the couch; while you are gone I will fetch some fresh—now, come with me.”

      “Wait a minute, wait,” cried Stephanus. “Bring a new jar with you from the town, my son. You lent us yours yesterday, Paulus, and I must—”

      “I should soon have forgotten it,” interrupted the other. “I have to thank the careless fellow, for I have now for the first time discovered the right way to drink, as long as one is well and able. I would not have the jar back for a measure of gold; water has no relish unless you drink it out of the hollow of your hand! The shard is yours. I should be warring against my own welfare, if I required it back. God be praised! the craftiest thief can now rob me of nothing save my sheepskin.”

      Stephanus would have thanked him, but he took Hermas by the hand, and led him out into the open air. For some time the two men walked in silence over the clefts and boulders up the mountain side. When they had reached a plateau, which lay on the road that led from the sea over the mountain into the oasis, he turned to the youth, and said:

      “If we always considered all the results of our actions there would be no sins committed.”

      Hermas looked at him enquiringly, and Paulus went on, “If it had occurred to you to think how sorely your poor father needed sleep, you would have lain still this night.”

      “I could not,” said the youth sullenly. “And you know very well that I scourged myself hard enough.”

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

      Hermas looked defiantly at his reproving friend, the flaming color mounted to his cheek: for he 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.

      “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 be 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

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