hen he had taken back the empty flask. Once, as she was filling the
bottle which he held, out of the large jar, her white fingers had touched
his, and her enquiry whether he were afraid of her, or if not, why his
hands which looked so strong should tremble so violently, dwelt still in
his mind. The nearer he approached Petrus's house the more vehemently his
heart beat; he stood still in front of the gate-way, to take breath, and
to collect himself a little, for he felt that, agitated as he was, he
would find it difficult to utter any coherent words.

At last he laid his hand on the latch and entered the yard. The
watch-dogs already knew him, and only barked once as he stepped over the
threshold.

He brought a gift in his hand, and he wanted to take nothing away, and
yet he appeared to himself just like a thief as he looked round, first at
the main building lighted up by the moon, and then at the Gaul's
dwelling-house, which, veiled in darkness, stood up as a vague
silhouette, and threw a broad dark shadow on the granite flags of the
pavement, which was trodden to shining smoothness. There was not a soul
to be seen, and the reek of the roast sheep told him that Petrus and his
household were assembled at supper.

"I might come inopportunely on the feasters," said he to himself, as he
threw the buck over from his left to his right shoulder, and looked up at
Sirona's window, which he knew only too well.

It was not lighted up, but a whiter and paler something appeared within
its dark stone frame, and this something, attracted his gaze with an
irresistible spell; it moved, and Sirona's greyhound set up a sharp
barking.

It was she--it must be she! Her form rose before his fancy in all its
brilliant beauty, and the idea flashed through his mind that she must be
alone, for he had met her husband and the old slave woman among the
worshippers of Mithras on their way to the mountain. The pious youth, who
so lately had punished his flesh with the scourge to banish seductive
dream-figures, had in these few days become quite another man. He would
not leave the mountain, for his father's sake, but he was quite
determined no longer to avoid the way of the world; nay, rather to seek
it. He had abandoned the care of his father to the kindly Paulus, and had
wandered about among the rocks; there he had practised throwing the
discus, he had hunted the wild goats and beasts of prey, and from time to
time--but always with some timidity-