ths?"

"Often? I only wonder that I did not melt away and fall to pieces in the
warm water like a wheaten loaf."

"Why do you laugh at that which makes men beautiful?" cried Hermas
hastily. "Why may Christians even visit the baths in Alexandria, while
we up here, you and my father and all anchorites, only use water to
quench our thirst? You compel me to live like one of you, and I do not
like being a dirty beast."

"None can see us but the Most High," answered Paulus, "and for him we
cleanse and beautify our souls."

"But the Lord gave us our body too," interrupted Hermas. "It is written
that man is the image of God. And we! I appeared to myself as repulsive
as a hideous ape when at the great baths by the Gate of the Sun I saw
the youths and men with beautifully arranged and scented hair and smooth
limbs that shone with cleanliness and purification. And as they went
past, and I looked at my mangy sheepfell, and thought of my wild mane
and my arms and feet, which are no worse formed or weaker than theirs
were, I turned hot and cold, and I felt as if some bitter drink were
choking me. I should have liked to howl out with shame and envy and
vexation. I will not be like a monster!"

Hermas ground his teeth as he spoke the last words, and Paulus looked
uneasily at him as he went on: "My body is God's as much as my soul is,
and what is allowed to the Christians in the city--"

"That we nevertheless may not do," Paulus interrupted gravely. "He who
has once devoted himself to Heaven must detach himself wholly from the
charm of life, and break one tie after another that binds him to the
dust. I too once upon a time have anointed this body, and smoothed this
rough hair, and rejoiced sincerely over my mirror; but I say to you,
Hermas--and, by my dear Saviour, I say it only because I feel it, deep
in my heart I feel it--to pray is better than to bathe, and I, a poor
wretch, have been favored with hours in which my spirit has struggled
free, and has been permitted to share as an honored guest in the festal
joys of Heaven!"

While he spoke, his wide open eyes had turned towards Heaven and had
acquired a wondrous brightness. For a short time the two stood opposite
each other silent and motionless; at last the anchorite pushed the hair
from off his brow, which was now for the first time visible. It was
well-formed, though somewhat narrow, and its clear fairness formed a
sharp contrast to his sunburnt face.

"Boy," he said wit