On the eighteenth day, he found, far from any village, a wretched hut made of palm leaves, and half buried under the sand which had been driven by the desert wind.  He approached it, hoping that the hut was inhabited by some pious anchorite.  He saw inside the hovel—­for there was no door—­a pitcher, a bunch of onions, and a bed of dried leaves.

“This must be the habitation of a hermit,” he said to himself.  “Hermits are generally to be found near their hut, and I shall not fail to meet this one.  I will give him the kiss of peace, even as the holy Anthony did when he came to the hermit Paul, and kissed him three times.  We will discourse of things eternal, and perhaps our Lord will send us, by one of His ravens, a crust of bread, which my host will willingly invite me to share with him.”

Whilst he was thus speaking to himself, he walked round the hut to see if he could find any one.  He had not walked a hundred paces when he saw a man seated, with his legs crossed, by the side of the river.  The man was naked; his hair and beard were quite white, and his body redder than brick.  Paphnutius felt sure this must be the hermit.  He saluted him with the words the monks are accustomed to use when they meet each other.

“Peace be with you, brother!  May you some day taste the sweet joys of paradise.”

The man did not reply.  He remained motionless, and appeared not to have heard.  Paphnutius supposed this was due to one of those rhapsodies to which the saints are accustomed.  He knelt down, with his hands joined, by the side of the unknown, and remained thus in prayer till sunset.  Then, seeing that his companion had not moved, he said to him—­

“Father, if you are now out of the ecstasy in which you were lost, give me your blessing in our Lord Jesus Christ.”

The other replied without turning his head—­

“Stranger, I understand you not, and I know not the Lord Jesus Christ.”

“What!” cried Paphnutius.  “The prophets have announced Him; legions of martyrs have confessed His name; Caesar himself has worshipped Him, and, but just now, I made the sphinx of Silsile proclaim His glory.  Is it possible that you do not know Him?”

“Friend,” replied the other, “it is possible.  It would even be certain, if anything in this world were certain.”

Paphnutius was surprised and saddened by the incredible ignorance of the man.

“If you know not Jesus Christ,” he said, “all your works serve no purpose, and you will never rise to life immortal.”

The old man replied—­

“It is useless to act, or to abstain from acting.  It matters not whether we live or die.”

“Eh, what?” asked Paphnutius.  “Do you not desire to live through all eternity?  But, tell me, do you not live in a hut in the desert as the hermits do?”

“It seems so.”

“Do I not see you naked, and lacking all things?”

“It seems so.”