of hanging on the cross, and bleeding from
five wounds, in imitation of the Saviour.

But Stephanus was calling him, and without hesitation he returned to him
and replied to his questions; indeed it was easier to him to speak than
to listen, for in his ears there was a roaring, moaning, singing, and
piping, and he felt as if drunk with strong wine.

"If only Hermas does not forget to thank the Gaul!" exclaimed Stephanus.

"Thank--aye, we should always be thankful!" replied his companion,
closing his eyes.

"I dreamed of Glycera," the old man began again. You said yesterday that
love had stirred your heart too, and yet you never were married. You are
silent? Answer me something."

"I--who called me?" murmured Paulus, staring at the questioner with a
fixed gaze.

Stephanus was startled to see that his companion trembled in every limb,
he raised himself and held out to him the flask with Sirona's wine, which
the other, incapable of controlling himself, snatched eagerly from his
hand, and emptied with frantic thirst. The fiery liquor revived his
failing strength, brought the color to his cheeks, and lent a strange
lustre to his eyes. "How much good that has done me!" he cried with a
deep sigh and pressing his hands on his breast.

Stephanus was perfectly reassured and repeated his question, but he
almost repented of his curiosity, for his friend's voice had an utterly
strange ring in it, as he answered:

"No, I was never married--never, but I have loved for all that, and I
will tell you the story from beginning to end; but you must not interrupt
me, no not once. I am in a strange mood--perhaps it is the wine. I had
not drunk any for so long; I had fasted since--since but it does not
matter. Be silent, quite silent, and let me tell my story."

Paulus sat down on Hermas' bed; he threw himself far back, leaned the
back of his head against the rocky wall of the cavern, through whose
doorway the daylight poured, and began thus, while he gazed fixedly into
vacancy, "What she was like?--who can, describe her? She was tall and
large like Hera, and yet not proud, and her noble Greek face was lovely
rather than handsome.

"She could no longer have been very young, but she had eyes like those of
a gentle child. I never knew her other than very pale; her narrow
forehead shone like ivory under her soft brown hair; her beautiful hands
were as white as her forehead-hands that moved as if they themselves were
living and inspire