that of devoting herself to a ragged beggar, than that she should
have given her affections to a younger, handsomer, and worthier man than
himself. He had sinned much against her, but all that lay like feathers
on his side of the scales, while that which she had done weighed down
hers like a load of lead. He began to feel like a man who, in wading
through a bog, has gained firm ground with one foot, and all these
feelings gave him energy to walk up to the anchorite with a self-control,
of which he was not generally master, excepting when on duty at the head
of his soldiers.

He approached the Alexandrian with an assumption of dignity and a
demeanor which testified to his formerly having taken part in the
representations 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 bystanders. 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:

"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 before giving you
your due. You shall find no lack of blows. Confess where your sweetheart
has fled to and they shall be few, but if you are slow to answer they
will be many. Lend me that thing there, fellow!"

With these words he took a whip of hippopotamus hide out of a
camel-driver's band, went close up to the Alexandrian, and asked: "Where
is Sirona?"

"Nay, you may beat me," said Paulus. "However hard your whip may fall on
me, it cannot be heavy enough for my sins; but as to where your wife is
hiding, that I really cannot tell you--not even if you were to tear my
limbs with pincers instead of stroking me with that wretched thing."

There was something so genuinely honest in Paulus' voice and tone, that
the centurion was inclined to believe him; but it was not his way to let
a threatened punishment fail of execution