pread its shades over the heights and hollows, did Stephanus
unclasp his folded hands and softly speak his companion's name. Paulus
started and said, speaking like a man who is aroused from a dream and
who is suddenly conscious of having heard some one speak, "You are
right; it is growing dark and cool and you must go back into the cave."

Stephanus offered no opposition and let himself be led back to his bed;
while Paulus was spreading the sheepskin over the sick man he sighed
deeply.

"What disturbs your soul?" asked the older man. "It is--it was--what
good can it do me!" cried Paulus in strong excitement. "There we sat,
witnesses of the most glorious marvels of the Most High, and I, in
shameless idolatry, seemed to see before me the chariot of Helios with
its glorious winged-horses, snorting fire as they went, and Helios
himself in the guise of Hermas, with gleaming golden hair, and the
dancing Hours, and the golden gates of the night. Accursed rabble of
demons!--"

At this point the anchorite was interrupted, for Hermas entered the
cave, and laying a young steinbock, that he had killed, before the two
men, exclaimed, "fine fellow, and he cost me no more than one arrow. I
will light a fire at once and roast the best pieces. There are plenty of
bucks still on our mountain, and I know where to find them."

In about an hour, father and son were eating the pieces of meat, which
had been cooked on a spit. Paulus declined to sup with them, for after
he had scourged himself in despair and remorse for the throwing of the
discus, he had vowed a strict fast.

"And now," cried Hermas, when his father declared himself satisfied,
after seeming to relish greatly the strong meat from which he had so
long abstained, "and now the best is to come! In this flask I have some
strengthening wine, and when it is empty it will be filled afresh."
Stephanus took the wooden beaker that his son offered him, drank
a little, and then said, while he smacked his tongue to relish the
after-taste of the noble juice, "That is something choice!--Syrian wine!
only taste it, Paulus."

Paulus took the beaker in his hand, inhaled the fragrance of the golden
fluid, and then murmured, but without putting it to his lips, "That
is not Syrian; it is Egyptian, I know it well. I should take it to be
Mareotic."

"So Sirona called it," cried Hermas, "and you know it by the mere smell!
She said it was particularly good for the sick."

"That it is," Paulus