“Thou who hast put pity in our hearts, like the morning dew upon the fields, O just and merciful God, be Thou blessed!  Praise! praise be unto Thee!  Put away from Thy servant that false tenderness which tempts to concupiscence, and grant that I may only love Thy creatures in Thee, for they pass away, but Thou endurest for ever.  If I care for this woman, it is only because she is Thy handiwork.  The angels themselves feel pity for her.  Is she not, O Lord, the breath of Thy mouth?  Let her not continue to sin with many citizens and strangers.  There is great pity for her in my heart.  Her wickednesses are abominable, and but to think of them makes my flesh creep.  But the more wicked she is, the more do I lament for her.  I weep when I think that the devils will torment her to all eternity.”

As he was meditating in this way, he saw a little jackal lying at his feet.  He felt much surprised, for the door of his cell had been closed since the morning.  The animal seemed to read the Abbot’s thoughts, and wagged its tail like a dog.  Paphnutius made the sign of the cross and the beast vanished.  He knew then that, for the first time, the devil had entered his cell, and he uttered a short prayer; then he thought again about Thais.

“With God’s help,” he said to himself, “I must save her.”  And he slept.

The next morning, when he had said his prayers, he went to see the sainted Palemon, a holy hermit who lived some distance away.  He found him smiling quietly as he dug the ground, as was his custom.  Palemon was an old man, and cultivated a little garden; the wild beasts came and licked his hands, and the devils never tormented him.

“May God be praised, brother Paphnutius,” he said, as he leaned upon his spade.

“God be praised!” replied Paphnutius.  “And peace be unto my brother.”

“The like peace be unto thee, brother Paphnutius,” said Palemon; and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“Brother Palemon, all our discourse ought to be solely the praise of Him who has promised to be wheresoever two or three are gathered together in His Name.  That is why I come to you concerning a design I have formed to glorify the Lord.”

“May the Lord bless thy design, Paphnutius, as He has blessed my lettuces.  Every morning He spreads His grace with the dew on my garden, and His goodness causes me to glorify Him in the cucumbers and melons which He gives me.  Let us pray that He may keep us in His peace.  For nothing is more to be feared than those unruly passions which trouble our hearts.  When these passions disturb us we are like drunken men, and we stagger from right to left unceasingly, and are like to fall miserably.  Sometimes these passions plunge us into a turbulent joy, and he who gives way to such, sullies the air with brutish laughter.  Such false joy drags the sinner into all sorts of excess.  But sometimes also the troubles of the soul and of the senses throw