-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 nothing was
clear to his mind beyond the wish to touch her fingers once more.

Whether this were a sin or not, was all the same to him; the most
harmless play was called a sin, and every thought of the world for which
he longed, and he was fully resolved to take the sin upon himself, if
only he might attain his end. Sin after all was nothing but a phantom
terror with which they frighten children, and the worthy Petrus had
assured him that he might be a man capable of great deeds. With a feeling
that he was venturing on an unheard of act he went towards Sirona's
window, and she at once recognized him as he stood in the moonlight.

"Hermas!" he heard her say softly. He was seized with such violent terror
that he stood as if spellbound, the goat slipped from his shoulders, and
he felt as if his heart had ceased to beat. And again the sweet woman's
voice called, "Hermas, is it you? What brings you to us at such a late
hour?"

He stammered an incoherent answer, and "I do not understand; come a
little nearer." Involuntarily he stepped forward into the shadow of the
house and close up to her window. She wore a white robe with wide, open
sleeves, and her arms shone in the dim light as white as her garment. The
greyhound barked again; she quieted it, and then asked Hermas how his
father was, and whether he needed some more wine. He replied that she was
very kind, angelically kind, but that the sick man was recovering fast,
and that she had already given him far too much. Neither of them said
anything that might not have been heard by everybody, and yet they
whispered as if they were speaking of some forbidden thing.

"Wait a moment," said Sirona, and she disappeared within the room, she
soon reappeared, and said solid 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 ecstatic thrill which had haunted his memory