drew
from his bosom a small wrappage of tissues, which when unfolded
disclosed a scrap of something hairy.

'This, noble lady,' said the monk, in a voice reverently subdued, 'is
from the camel-hair garment of Holy John the Baptist. I had it of a
hermit in the Egyptian desert, who not many days after I quitted him
was for his sanctity borne up to heaven by angels, and knew not death.'

Aurelia viewed the relic with emotion.

'Why,' she asked, 'do you offer it to me?'

The monk drew a step nearer and whispered:

'Because I know that you, like him from whom I received it, are of the
true faith.'

Aurelia observed him closely. His robe was ragged and filthy; his bare
feet were thick with the dust of the road; his visage, much begrimed,
wore an expression of habitual suffering, and sighs as of pain
frequently broke from him. The hand by which he supported himself on a
staff trembled as with weakness.

'You are not a presbyter?' she said in an undertone, after a glance at
his untonsured head.

'I am unworthy of the meanest order in the Church. In pilgrimings and
fastings I do penance for a sin of youth. You see how wasted is my
flesh.'

'What, then,' asked Aurelia, 'was the message you said you bore for me?'

'This. Though I myself have no power to perform the sacraments of our
faith, I tend upon one who has. He lies not far from here, like myself
sick and weary, and, because of a vow, may not come within the
precincts of any dwelling. In Macedonia, oppressed by our persecutors,
he was long imprisoned, and so sorely tormented that, in a moment when
the Evil One prevailed over his flesh, he denied the truth. This sin
gave him liberty, but scarce had he come forth when a torment of the
soul, far worse than that of his body, fell upon him. He was delivered
over to the Demon, and, being yet alive, saw about him the fires of
Gehenna. Thus, for a season, did he suffer things unspeakable,
wandering in desert places, ahungered, athirst, faint unto death, yet
not permitted to die. One night of storm, he crept for shelter into the
ruins of a heathen temple. Of a sudden, a dreadful light shone about
him, and he beheld the Demon in the guise of that false god, who fell
upon him and seemed like to slay him. But Sisinnius--so is the holy man
named--strove in prayer and in conjuration, yea, strove hours until the
crowing of the cock, and thus sank into slumber. And while he slept, an
angel of the Most High appeared before him,