und it difficult to turn his back on his
persecutors without anger or complaint.

At the counter of the dealer of whom he had bought the woollen coverlet,
the little jug, and many other things for Sirona, a priest had passed by,
had pointed to his money, and had said, "Satan takes care of his own."

Paulus had answered him nothing, had returned to his charge with an
uplifted and grateful heart, and had heartily rejoiced once more in the
exalted and 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
snapped those threads, which long years of self-denial had twined into
fetters for his impatient spirit? Was it that to the man, who mortified
his flesh in order to free his soul from its bonds it seemed a lighter
matter to be contemned as a sinner, hated of God, than to let his person
and his manly dignity be treated with contempt? Was he thinking of the
fair listener in the cave, who was a witness to his humiliation? 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 gray-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 Palaestra, 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 himself against the hated seducer.

"Come on--come on!" he cried; his eyes flashing, and leaning forward with
his neck out-stretched and ready on his part for the struggle. "Grip
hold! you were a gladiator, or something of the kind, before you put on
that filthy dress that you might break into houses at night, and go
unpunished. Make this sacred spot an arena, and if you succeed in making
an end of me I will thank you, for what made life worth having to me, you
have already ruined whether or no. Only come on. Or perhaps you think it
easier to ruin the life of a woman than to measure your strength against
her defender? Clutch hold, I say, clutch hold, or--"

"Or you will fall upon me," said Paulus, whose arms had dropped by his
side during the youth's address. He spoke in a quite