You have heard say, no doubt, that Abbot Ephrem has drawn up for his monastery pious regulations of great beauty.  With his permission, you might make a copy of them, as you are a skilful penman.  I could not do so, for my hands, accustomed to wield the spade, are too awkward to direct the thin reed of the scribe over the papyrus.  But you have the knowledge of letters, brother, and should thank God for it, for beautiful writing cannot be too much admired.  The work of the copyist and the reader is a great safeguard against evil thoughts.  Brother Paphnutius, why do you not write out the teachings of our fathers, Paul and Anthony?  Little by little you would recover, in these pious works, peace of soul and mind; solitude would again become pleasant to your heart, and soon you would be in a condition to recommence those ascetic works which your journey has interrupted.  But you must not expect much benefit from excessive penitence.  When he was amongst us, our Father Anthony used to say, ’Excessive fasting produces weakness, and weakness begets idleness.  There are some monks who ruin their body by fasts improperly prolonged.  Of them it may be said that they plunge a dagger into their own breast, and deliver themselves up unresistingly into the power of the devil.’  So said the holy man, Anthony.  I am but a foolish old man, but, by the grace of God, I have remembered what our father told us.”

Paphnutius thanked Palemon and promised to think over his advice.  When he had passed the fence of reeds which enclosed the little garden, he turned round and saw the good old gardener engaged in watering his salads, whilst the pigeon walked about on his bent back, and at that sight Paphnutius felt ready to weep.

On returning to his cell, he found there a strange turmoil, as though it were filled with grains of sand blown about by a strong wind, and on looking closer, he saw these moving bodies were myriads of little jackals.  That night he saw in a dream, a high stone column surmounted by a human face, and he heard a voice which said—­

“Ascend this pillar!”

On awaking, he felt confident that this dream had been sent from heaven.  He called his disciples, and addressed them in these words—­

“My beloved sons, I must leave you, and go where God sends me.  During my absence obey Flavian as you would me, and take care of our brother Paul.  Bless you.  Farewell.”

As he strode away, they remained prostrate on the ground, and when they raised their heads, they saw his tall dark figure on the sandy horizon.

He walked day and night until he reached the ruins of the temple, formerly built by the idolaters, in which he had slept amongst the scorpions and sirens on his former strange journey.  The walls, covered with magic signs, were still standing.  Thirty immense columns, which terminated in human heads or lotus flowers, still supported a heavy stone entablature.  But, at one end of the temple, a pillar had shaken off its old burden, and stood isolated.  It had for its capital the head of a woman which smiled, with long eyes and rounded cheeks, and on her forehead cow’s horns.