Homo Sum | Page 6

shadow of the palm-tree grew longer she sprang up, called
her goats, and looked up, listening, to the rock-steps by which he had
vanished; the twilight is short in the neighborhood of the tropics, and
she knew that she would be overtaken by the darkness on the stony and
fissured road down the valley if she lingered any longer. She feared the
terrors of the night, the spirits and demons, and a thousand vague
dangers whose nature she could not have explained even to herself; and
yet she did not stir from the spot nor cease listening and waiting for his
return till the sun had disappeared behind the sacred mountain, and the

glow in the west had paled.
All around was as still as death, she could hear herself breathe, and as
the evening chill fell she shuddered with cold.
She now heard a loud noise above her head. A flock of wild mountain
goats, accustomed to come at this hour to quench their thirst at the
spring, came nearer and nearer, but drew back as they detected the
presence of a human being. Only the leader of the herd remained
standing on the brink of the ravine, and she knew that he was only
awaiting her departure to lead the others down to drink. Following a
kindly impulse, she was on the point of leaving to make way for the
animals, when she suddenly recollected Hermas's threat to drive her
from the well, and she angrily picked up a stone and flung it at the buck,
which started and hastily fled. The whole herd followed him. Miriam
listened to them as they scampered away, and then, with her head sunk,
she led her flock home, feeling her way in the darkness with her bare
feet.
CHAPTER II.
High above the ravine where the spring was lay a level plateau of
moderate extent, and behind it rose a fissured cliff of bare, red-brown
porphyry. A vein of diorite of iron-hardness lay at its foot like a green
ribbon, and below this there opened a small round cavern, hollowed
and arched by the cunning hand of nature. In former times wild beasts,
panthers or wolves, had made it their home; it now served as a dwelling
for young Hermas and his father.
Many similar caves were to be found in the holy Fountain, and other
anchorites had taken possession of the larger ones among them.
That of Stephanus was exceptionally high and deep, and yet the space
was but small which divided the two beds of dried mountain herbs
where, on one, slept the father, and on the other, the son.
It was long past midnight, but neither the younger nor the elder
cave-dweller seemed to be sleeping. Hermas groaned aloud and threw

himself vehemently from one side to the other without any
consideration for the old man who, tormented with pain and weakness,
sorely needed sleep. Stephanus meanwhile denied himself the relief of
turning over or of sighing, when he thought he perceived that his more
vigorous son had found rest.
"What could have robbed him of his rest, the boy who usually slept so
soundly, and was so hard to waken?"
"Whence comes it," thought Stephanus, "that the young and strong
sleep so soundly and so much, and the old, who need rest, and even the
sick, sleep so lightly and so little. Is it that wakefulness may prolong
the little term of life, of which they dread the end? How is it that man
clings so fondly to this miserable existence, and would fain slink away,
and hide himself when the angel calls and the golden gates open before
him! We are like Saul, the Hebrew, who hid himself when they came to
him with the crown! My wound burns painfully; if only I had a drink of
water. If the poor child were not so sound asleep I might ask him for
the jar."
Stephanus listened to his son and would not wake him, when he heard
his heavy and regular breathing. He curled himself up shivering under
the sheep-skin which covered only half his body, for the icy night wind
now blew through the opening of the cave, which by day was as hot as
an oven.
Some long minutes wore away; at last he thought he perceived that
Hermas had raised himself. Yes, the sleeper must have wakened, for he
began to speak, and to call on the name of God.
The old man turned to his son and began softly, "Do you hear me, my
boy?"
"I cannot sleep," answered the youth.
"Then give me something to drink," asked Stephanus, "my wound
burns intolerably."

Hermas rose at once, and reached the water-jar to the sufferer.
"Thanks, thanks, my child," said the old man, feeling for the