proceeded to the little harbor, to bargain with the fishermen
of the place for the boat which he needed While he was talking with an
old Amalekite boatman, who, with his black-eyed sons, was arranging his
nets, two riders came at a quick pace towards 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 emperor's great warrior who commands the Romans in
Pharan."

Hermas saw Phoebicius for the first time, and as he rode up towards him
and the fisherman 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 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.

Talib had previously seen the youth by his father's side; he recognized
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 seeking.

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 humor with which his aspect filled him, and when Phoebicius
himself asked him as to whether he had not met on his way with a
fair-haired woman and a limping greyhound, he replied, repressing his
laughter with difficulty:

"Aye, indeed! I did see such a woman and her dog, but I do not think it
was lame."

"Where did you see her?" asked Phoebicius hastily. Hermas colored, 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 answer, 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