us into an impious sadness which is a thousand times worse than the joy.  Brother Paphnutius, I am but a miserable sinner, but I have found, in my long life, that the cenobite has no foe worse than sadness.  I mean by that the obstinate melancholy which envelopes the soul as in a mist, and hides from us the light of God.  Nothing is more contrary to salvation, and the devil’s greatest triumph is to sow black and bitter thoughts in the heart of a good man.  If he sent us only pleasurable temptations, he would not be half so much to be feared.  Alas! he excels in making us sad.  Did he not show to our father Anthony a black child of such surpassing beauty that the very sight of it drew tears?  With God’s help, our father Anthony avoided the snares of the demon.  I knew him when he lived amongst us; he was cheerful with his disciples, and never gave way to melancholy.  But did you not come, my brother, to talk to me of a design you had formed in your mind?  Let me know what it is—­if, at least, this design has for its object the glory of God.”

“Brother Palemon, what I propose is really to the glory of God.  Strengthen me with your counsel, for you know many things, and sin has never darkened the clearness of your mind.”

“Brother Paphnutius, I am not worthy to unloose the latchet of thy sandals, and my sins are as countless as the sands of the desert.  But I am old, and I will never refuse the help of my experience.”

“I will confide in you, then, brother Palemon, that I am stricken with grief at the thought that there is, in Alexandria, a courtesan named Thais, who lives in sin, and is a subject of reproach unto the people.”

“Brother Paphnutius, that is, in truth, an abomination which we do well to deplore.  There are many women amongst the Gentiles who lead lives of that kind.  Have you thought of any remedy for this great evil?”

“Brother Palemon, I will go to Alexandria and find this woman, and, with God’s help, I will convert her; that is my intention; do you approve of it, brother?”

“Brother Paphnutius, I am but a miserable sinner, but our father Anthony used to say, ’In whatsoever place thou art, hasten not to leave it to go elsewhere.’”

“Brother Palemon, do you disapprove of my project?”

“Dear Paphnutius, God forbid that I should suspect my brother of bad intentions.  But our father Anthony also said, ’Fishes die on dry land, and so is it with those monks who leave their cells and mingle with the men of this world, amongst whom no good thing is to be found.’”

Having thus spoken, the old man pressed his foot on the spade, and began to dig energetically round a fig tree laden with fruit.  As he was thus engaged, there was a rustling in the bushes, and an antelope leaped over the hedge which surrounded the garden; it stopped, surprised and frightened, its delicate legs trembling, then ran up to the old man, and laid its pretty head on the breast of its friend.