erything
else in her presence, whose looks, whose movement, whose very silence
even seemed to do homage to her. And then his bold spring into her room,
and his eager wooing--"This is love," said she to herself. Her cheeks
glowed, and when Hermas clasped her hand, and pressed her arm to his
lips, she could not repulse him, till Dorothea's voice reminded her of
the worthy lady and of the children, and through them of her own far-off
sisters.

The thought of these pure beings flowed over her troubled spirit like a
purifying stream, and the question passed through her mind, "What should
I be without these good folks over there, and is this great love-sick
boy, who stood before Polykarp just lately looking like a school-boy,
is he so worthy that I should for his sake give up the right of looking
them boldly in the face?" And she pushed Hermas roughly away, just as he
was venturing for the first time to apply his lips to her perfumed gold
hair, and desired him to be less forward, and to release her hand.

She spoke in a low voice, but with such decision, that the lad, who was
accustomed to the habit of obedience, unresistingly allowed her to push
him into the sitting-room. There was a lamp burning on the table, and
on a bench by the wall of the room, which was lined with colored stucco,
lay the helmet, the centurion's staff, and the other portions of the
armor which Phoebicius had taken off before setting out for the feast of
Mithras, in order to assume the vestments of one of the initiated of the
grade of "Lion."

The lamp-light revealed Sirona's figure, and as she stood before him in
all her beauty with glowing cheeks, the lad's heart began to beat high,
and with increased boldness he opened his arms, and endeavored to draw
her to him; but Sirona avoided him and went behind the table, and,
leaning her hands on its polished surface while it protected her like a
shield, she lectured him in wise and almost motherly words against his
rash, intemperate, and unbecoming behavior.

Any one who was learned in the heart of woman might have smiled at such
words from such lips and in such an hour; but Hermas blushed and cast
down his eyes, and knew not what to answer. A great change had come
over the Gaulish lady; she felt a great pride in her virtue, and in the
victory she had won over herself, and while she sunned herself in the
splendor of her own merits, she wished that Hermas too should feel and
recognize them. She began to ex