“Farewell, then, unhappy Timocles,” he said; and heaving a deep sigh, he resumed his pious pilgrimage through the night.

In the morning, he saw the ibises motionless on one leg at the edge of the water, which reflected their pale pink necks.  The willows stretched their soft grey foliage to the bank, cranes flew in a triangle in the clear sky, and the cry of unseen herons was heard from the sedges.  Far as the eye could reach, the river rolled its broad green waters o’er which white sails, like the wings of birds, glided, and here and there on the shores, a white house shone out.  A light mist floated along the banks, and from out the shadow of the islands, which were laden with palms, flowers, and fruits, came noisy flocks of ducks, geese, flamingoes, and teal.  To the left, the grassy valley extended to the desert its fields and orchards in joyful abundance; the sun shone on the yellow wheat, and the earth exhaled forth its fecundity in odorous wafts.  At this sight, Paphnutius fell on his knees, and cried—­

“Blessed be the Lord, who has given a happy issue to my journey.  O God, who spreadest Thy dew upon the fig trees of the Arsiniote, pour Thy grace upon Thais, whom Thou hast formed with Thy love, as Thou hast the flowers and trees of the field.  May she, by Thy loving care, flourish like a sweet-scented rose in the heavenly Jerusalem.”

And every time that he saw a tree covered with blossom, or a bird of brilliant plumage, he thought of Thais.  Keeping along the left arm of the river and through a fertile and populous district, he reached, in a few days, the city of Alexandria, which the Greeks have surnamed the Beautiful and the Golden.  The sun had risen an hour, when he beheld, from the top of a hill, the vast city, the roofs of which glittered in the rosy light.  He stopped, and folded his arms on his breast.

“There, then,” he said, “is the delightful spot where I was born in sin; the bright air where I breathed poisonous perfumes; the sea of pleasure where I heard the songs of the sirens.  There is my cradle, after the flesh; my native land—­in the parlance of the men of these days!  A rich cradle, an illustrious country, in the judgment of men!  It is natural that thy children should reverence thee like a mother, Alexandria, and I was begotten in thy magnificently adorned breast.  But the ascetic despises nature, the mystic scorns appearances, the Christian regards his native land as a place of exile, the monk is not of this earth.  I have turned away my heart from loving thee, Alexandria.  I hate thee!  I hate thee for thy riches, thy science, thy pleasures, and thy beauty.  Be accursed, temple of demons!  Lewd couch of the Gentiles, tainted pulpit of Arian heresy, be thou accursed!  And thou, winged son of heaven who led the holy hermit Anthony, our father, when he came from the depths of the desert, and entered into the citadel of idolatry to strengthen the faith of believers and the confidence of martyrs, beautiful angel of the Lord, invisible child, first breath of God, fly thou before me, and cleanse, by the beating of thy wings, the corrupted air I am about to breathe amongst the princes of darkness of this world!”