even if I were a sage--which I
certainly never shall be any more than a tortoise or a phoenix. I once
heard tell of a hermit who, because it is written that we ought to bury
the dead, and because he had no corpse, slew a traveller that he might
fulfil the commandment: I have acted in exactly the same way, for, in
order to spare another man suffering and to bear the sins of another,
I have plunged an innocent woman into misery, and made myself indeed a
sinner. As soon as it is light I will go down to the oasis and confess
to Petrus and Dorothea what I have done. They will punish me, and I will
honestly help them, so that nothing of the penance that they may lay
upon me may be remitted. The less mercy I show to myself, the more will
the Eternal judge show to me."

He rose, considered the position of the stars, and when he perceived
that morning was not far off, he prepared to return to Sirona, who
was no longer any more to him than an unhappy woman to whom he owed
reparation for much evil, when a loud cry of distress in the immediate
vicinity fell on his ear.

He mechanically stooped to pick up a stone for a weapon, and listened.
He knew every rock in the neighborhood of the spring, and when the
strange groan again made itself heard, he knew that it came from a spot
which he knew well and where he had often rested, because a large flat
stone supported by a stout pillar of granite, stood up far above
the surrounding rocks, and afforded protection from the sun, even at
noonday, when not a hand's breath of shade was to be found elsewhere.

Perhaps some wounded beast had crept under the rock for shelter from the
rain. Paulus went cautiously forward. The groaning sounded louder and
more distinct than before, and beyond a doubt it was the voice of a
human being.

The anchorite hastily threw away the stone, fell upon his knees,
and soon found on the dry spot of ground under the stone, and in the
farthermost nook of the retreat, a motionless human form.

"It is most likely a herdsman that has been struck by lightning,"
thought he, as he felt with his hands the curly head of the sufferer,
and the strong arms that now bung down powerless. As he raised the
injured man, who still uttered low moans, and supported his head on his
broad breast, the sweet perfume of fine ointment was wafted to him from
his hair, and a fearful suspicion dawned upon his mind.

"Polykarp!" he cried, while he clasped his hands more tightly round the
b