t would not therefore be the wiser, for he who wholly
abjures folly is a fool all the more certainly the less he fancies
himself one. Even dressing others has a peculiar charm, especially for
women; it is often a question which has the greater pleasure, the maid
who dresses her mistress or the lady who wears the costly garment.

Sirona was devoted to every sort of masquerading. If it had been needful
to seek a reason why the senator's children and grandchildren were so
fond of her, by no means last or least would have been the fact that she
would willingly and cheerfully allow herself to be tricked out in colored
kerchiefs, ribands, and flowers, and on her part could contrive the most
fantastic costumes for them. So soon as she saw Hermas with the helmet
on, the fancy seized her to carry through the travesty he had begun. She
eagerly and in perfect innocence pulled the coat of armor straight,
helped him to buckle the breastplate and to fasten on the sword, and as
she performed the task, at which Hermas proved himself unskilful enough,
her gay and pleasant laugh rang out again and again. When he sought to
seize her hand, as he not seldom did, she hit him sharply on the fingers,
and scolded him.

Hermas' embarrassment thawed before this pleasant sport, and soon he
began to tell her how hateful the lonely life on the mountain was to him.
He told her that Petrus himself had advised him to try his strength out
in the world, and he confided to her that if his father got well, he
meant to be a soldier, and do great deeds. She quite agreed with him,
praised and encouraged him, then she criticised his slovenly deportment,
showed him with comical gravity how a warrior ought to stand and walk,
called herself his drill-master, and was delighted at the zeal with which
he strove to imitate her.

In such play the hours passed quickly. Hermas was proud of himself in his
soldierly garb, and was happy in her presence and in the hope of future
triumphs; and Sirona was gay, as she had usually been only when playing
with the children, so that even Miriam's wild cry, which the youth
explained to be the scream of an owl, only for a moment reminded her of
the danger in which she was placing herself. Petrus' slaves had long gone
to rest before she began to weary of amusing herself with Hermas, and
desired him to lay aside her husband's equipment, and to leave her.
Hermas obeyed while she warily opened the shutters, and turning to him,
said, "