is strengthening wine; this youth
too will stay by you, and provide you with all necessaries until Hermas
comes home."

With these words he gave the wine-jar to the old man, who looked in
astonishment from him to Paulus, who felt indeed cut to the heart when
the bishop's messenger turned to him for an instant, and with the cry,
"Get thee out from among us!" disappeared. How many kindly ties, how
many services willingly rendered and affectionately accepted were swept
away by these words--but Paulus obeyed at once. He went up to his sick
friend, their eyes met and each could see that the eyes of the other
were dimmed with tears.

"Paulus!" cried the old man, stretching out both his hands to his
departing friend, whom he felt he could forgive whatever his guilt; but
the Alexandrian did not take them, but turned away, and, without looking
back, hastily went up the mountain to a pathless spot, and then on
towards the valley--onwards and still onwards, till he was brought to a
pause by the steep declivity of the hollow way which led southwards from
the mountains into the oasis.

The sun stood high and it was burning hot. Streaming with sweat and
panting for breath he leaned against the glowing porphyry wall behind
him, hid his face in his hands and strove to collect himself, to think,
to pray--for a long time in vain; for instead of joy in the suffering
which he had taken upon himself, the grief of isolation weighed upon his
heart, and the lamentable cry of the old man had left a warning echo
in his soul, and roused doubts of the righteousness of a deed, by which
even the best and purest had been deceived, and led into injustice
towards him. His heart was breaking with anguish and grief, but when
at last he returned to the consciousness of his sufferings physical and
mental, he began to recover his courage, and even smiled as he murmured
to himself:

"It is well, it is well--the more I suffer the more surely shall I find
grace. And besides, if the old man had seen Hermas go through what I
have experienced it would undoubtedly have killed him. Certainly I wish
it could have been done without--without--aye, it is even so--without
deceit; even when I was a heathen I was truthful and held a lie, whether
in myself or in another, in as deep horror as father Abraham held
murder, and yet when the Lord required him, he led his son Isaac to the
slaughter. And Moses when he beat the overseer--and Elias, and Deborah,
and Judith. I h