Paphnutius and Thais left the city by the Gate of the Moon, and followed
the coast.

"Woman," said the monk, "all that great blue sea could not wash away thy
pollutions."

He spoke with scorn and anger.

"More filthy than a bitch or a sow, thou hast prostituted to pagans and
infidels a body which the Eternal had intended for a tabernacle, and thy
impurities are such that, now that thou knowest the truth, thou canst
not unite thy lips or join thy hands without a horror of thyself rising
in thy heart."

She followed him meekly, over stony roads, under a burning sun. Her
knees ached from fatigue, and her throat was parched with thirst.
But, far from feeling any of the pity which softens the hearts of the
profane, Paphnutius rejoiced at these propitiatory sufferings of the
flesh which had so sinned. So infuriated was he with holy zeal that he
would have liked to cut with rods the body that had preserved its beauty
as a shining witness to its infamy. His meditations augmented his pious
fury, and remembering that Thais had received Nicias in her bed, that
idea seemed so horrible to him that his blood all flowed back to his
heart, and his breast felt ready to burst. His curses were stifled in
his throat, and he could only grind his teeth. He sprang forward
and stood before her, pale, terrible, and filled with the Spirit of
God--looked into her very soul, and then spat in her face.

She calmly wiped her face and continued to walk on. He followed, glaring
at her in pious anger, as if she had been hell itself. He was thinking
how he could avenge Christ in order that Christ should not avenge
Himself, when he saw a drop of blood that had dripped from the foot of
Thais on the sand. Then a hitherto unknown influence entered his opened
heart, sobs rose to his lips, he wept, he ran and knelt before her,
called her his sister, and kissed her bleeding feet. He murmured a
hundred times, "My sister, my sister, my mother, O most holy!"

He prayed--

"Angels of heaven, receive carefully this drop of blood, and bear it
before the throne of the Lord. And may a miraculous anemone blossom
on the sand sprinkled with the blood of Thais, that those who see the
flower may recover purity of heart and feeling. O holy, holy, most holy
Thais!"

As he prayed and prophesied thus, a lad passed on an ass. Paphnutius
ordered him to descend, seated Thais on the ass, and led it by the
bridle. Towards evening they came to a canal shaded by fine trees;