he knelt there, pouring out his soul in prayer--but
not to Egypt's gods. And that which is written of the blind man was
fulfilled in Heraklas, also--"And he said, Lord, I believe. And he
worshiped him."

When Heraklas rose from his knees, the sun was high in mid-heaven.
It was the time at home when his mother would burn myrrh to the sun.
But no prayer to Re or hymn to Horus escaped Heraklas' lips. How
should he, who rejoiced in the knowledge of sins forgiven, pray more
to false gods?

A holy awe and a great joy wrapped his soul. The burden of sin that
had oppressed him, the hopeless burden which had not ceased to cause
Heraklas misery even when he made offerings to Isis and poured forth
prayers to Serapis, was gone, gone at the touch of Jesus.

Plucking from his girdle his carnelian buckle, that signified to an
Egyptian the blood of Isis, said to wash away the sins of the
wearer, Heraklas leaned forward, and flung the rosy ornament far
into the white foam of the waves below. He could not wear that
heathen sign, even though his mother had given the ornament to him.

"O Isis," murmured Heraklas, as he lost sight of the carnelian
buckle within the waves, "I care not for thy blood! I know whose
blood hath washed away my stain."

With reverent rejoicing, he concealed his papyrus and turned
homeward.

He passed into the great city. A woman was worshiping before a
statue of the god Chonsu, the moon. Heraklas went by quickly, making
no sign of reverence. Glancing back, he saw the woman gazing after
him.

A little farther on stood a statue of Anubis. Other men, as they
passed, gave homage, but Heraklas did not turn his head toward the
idol. He noted, in the stalls and in the shops, the altars and
little idols. When he next went to purchase anything, must he do
reverence? Heraklas met a beggar and dropped a coin into his hand.

"Isis and Osiris bless thee!" wished the suppliant.

Heraklas' lips parted to answer. Should he, who had been blessed of
the Lord, seem to accept the blessing of idols? But the beggar
turned to another giver, and Heraklas hurried on his way.

Before he could reach home, a sacred procession came in sight.
Already Heraklas could plainly see the leopard-skin that fitted over
the linen robes of the Egyptian high priest who was coming. Twelve
or sixteen inferior priests walked beside the superior one. The high
priest's lock of hair, pendant on one side of his head, became more
and more plain to He