he words
which, uttered in a mild benignant tone, met his ears.

He turned and beheld an old man of venerable appearance, and whose
beard, white as snow, stretched down to the rude leathern belt which
confined the palmer's gown that he wore.

"Holy anchorite!" exclaimed Wagner--"for such must I deem thee to
be,--the sound of thy voice is most welcome in this solitude, amidst the
mazes of which I vainly seek to find an avenue of egress."

"Thus it is oft with the troubles and perplexities of the world, my
son," answered the hermit, "that world which I have quitted forever."

"And dost thou dwell in this desolate region?" asked Fernand.

"My cave is hard by," returned the old man. "For forty years have I
lived in the heart of these mountains, descending only into the plains
at long intervals, to gather the fruits that constitute my food:--and
then," he added, in a tone which, despite the sanctity of his
appearance, struck cold and ominous to the very heart of Wagner,--"and
then, too, at the risk of becoming the prey of the terrible anaconda!"

"Thou sayest, holy hermit," exclaimed Fernand, endeavoring to conquer a
feeling of unaccountable aversion which he had suddenly entertained
toward the old man, "thou sayest that thy cave is hard by. In the name
of mercy! I beseech thee to spare me a few fruits, and a cup of water,
for I am sinking with fatigue, hunger, and thirst."

"Follow me, young man," said the hermit; and he led the way to a cave
opening from a narrow fissure in the rock.

The anchorite's abode was, as Wagner had expected to find it, rude and
cheerless. A quantity of dry leaves were heaped in one corner--evidently
forming the old man's couch; and in several small hollows made in the
walls of rock, were heaps of fruit--fresh and inviting, as if they had
only just been gathered. On the ground stood a large earthen pitcher of
water. Upon this last object did the thirsty Wagner lay his left hand;
but ere he raised it, he glanced hastily round the cave in search of a
crucifix, in the presence of which he might sign the form of the cross
with his right hand. But to his astonishment the emblem of Christianity
was not there; and it now struck him for the first time that the
anchorite wore no beads around his waist.

"Young man, I can divine your thoughts," said the hermit, hastily; "but
drink, eat, and ask a blessing presently. Thou art famished, pause not
to question my motives. I will explain them fully to t