ss.

There were implements of labour in one corner of the apartment, in
another was a niche for a rude statue of the Virgin. A table and two
chairs showed that they must be the handiwork of the anchorite, being
different in their form from Oriental accommodations. The former was
covered, not only with reeds and pulse, but also with dried flesh, which
Theodorick assiduously placed in such arrangement as should invite the
appetite of his guests. This appearance of courtesy, though mute, and
expressed by gestures only, seemed to Sir Kenneth something entirely
irreconcilable with his former wild and violent demeanour. The movements
of the hermit were now become composed, and apparently it was only a
sense of religious humiliation which prevented his features, emaciated
as they were by his austere mode of life, from being majestic and noble.
He trod his cell as one who seemed born to rule over men, but who had
abdicated his empire to become the servant of Heaven. Still, it must
be allowed that his gigantic size, the length of his unshaven locks and
beard, and the fire of a deep-set and wild eye were rather attributes of
a soldier than of a recluse.

Even the Saracen seemed to regard the anchorite with some veneration,
while he was thus employed, and he whispered in a low tone to Sir
Kenneth, "The Hamako is now in his better mind, but he will not speak
until we have eaten--such is his vow."

It was in silence, accordingly, that Theodorick motioned to the Scot to
take his place on one of the low chairs, while Sheerkohf placed himself,
after the custom of his nation, upon a cushion of mats. The hermit then
held up both hands, as if blessing the refreshment which he had placed
before his guests, and they proceeded to eat in silence as profound
as his own. To the Saracen this gravity was natural; and the Christian
imitated his taciturnity, while he employed his thoughts on the
singularity of his own situation, and the contrast betwixt the wild,
furious gesticulations, loud cries, and fierce actions of Theodorick,
when they first met him, and the demure, solemn, decorous assiduity with
which he now performed the duties of hospitality.

When their meal was ended, the hermit, who had not himself eaten a
morsel, removed the fragments from the table, and placing before the
Saracen a pitcher of sherbet, assigned to the Scot a flask of wine.

"Drink," he said, "my children"--they were the first words he had
spoken--"the gifts of Go