he government, will seek the honour of
washing thy feet. At thy death thy _cilicium_ shall be taken to the
patriarch of Alexandria, and the great Athanasius, white with glory,
shall kiss it as the relic of a saint. Go!"

Paphnutius replied--

"Let the will of God be accomplished!"

And making an effort to stand up, he prepared to descend. But the voice,
divining his intention, said--

"Above all, descend not by the ladder. That would be to act like an
ordinary man, and to be unconscious of the gifts that are in thee. A
great saint, like thee, ought to fly through the air. Leap! the angels
are there to support thee. Leap, then!"

Paphnutius replied--

"The will of God be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

Extending his long arms like the ragged wings of a huge sick bird, he
was about to throw himself down, when, suddenly, a hideous mocking laugh
rang in his ears. Terrified, he asked--

"Who laughs thus?"

"Ah? ah!" screamed the voice, "we are yet but at the beginning of our
friendship; thou wilt some day be better acquainted with me. My friend,
it was I who caused thee to ascend here, and I ought to be satisfied at
the docility with which thou hast accomplished my wishes. Paphnutius, I
am pleased with thee."

Paphnutius murmured, in a voice stifled by fear--

"Avaunt, avaunt! I know thee now; thou art he who carried Jesus to a
pinnacle of the temple, and showed him all the kingdoms of this world."

He fell, affrighted, on the stone.

"Why did I not know this sooner?" he thought. "More wretched than the
blind, deaf, and paralysed who trust in me, I have lost all knowledge of
things supernatural, and am more depraved than the maniacs who eat
earth and approach dead bodies. I can no longer distinguish between
the clamours of hell and the voices of heaven. I have lost even the
intuition of the new-born child, who cries when its nurse's breast is
taken from it, of the dog that scents out its master's footsteps, of the
plant that turns towards the sun. I am the laughing-stock of the devils.
So, then, it is Satan who led me here. When he elevated me on this
pedestal, lust and pride mounted with me. It is not the magnitude of my
temptations which terrifies me. Anthony, on his mountain, suffers the
same. I wish that all their swords may pierce my flesh, before the eyes
of the angels. I have even learned to like my sufferings. But God does
not speak to me, and His silence astonishes me. He has left me--and I
had