dark shadow on the granite flags of the
pavement, which was trodden to shining smoothness. There was not a soul
to be seen, and the reek of the roast sheep told him that Petrus and his
household were assembled at supper.

"I might come inopportunely on the feasters," said he to himself, as he
threw the buck over from his left to his right shoulder, and looked up
at Sirona's window, which he knew only too well.

It was not lighted up, but a whiter and paler something appeared within
its dark stone frame, and this something, attracted his gaze with an
irresistible spell; it moved, and Sirona's greyhound set up a sharp
barking.

It was she--it must be she! Her form rose before his fancy in all its
brilliant beauty, and the idea flashed through his mind that she must
be alone, for he had met her husband and the old slave woman among the
worshippers of Mithras on their way to the mountain. The pious youth,
who so lately had punished his flesh with the scourge to banish
seductive dream-figures, had in these few days become quite another man.
He would not leave the mountain, for his father's sake, but he was quite
determined no longer to avoid the way of the world; nay, rather to seek
it. He had abandoned the care of his father to the kindly Paulus, and
had wandered about among the rocks; there he had practised throwing the
discus, he had hunted the wild goats and beasts of prey, and from time
to time--but always with some timidity--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
sho