CHAPTER XVIII.

Common natures can only be lightly touched by the immeasurable depth of anguish that is experienced by a soul that despairs of itself; but the more heavily the blow of such suffering falls, the more surely does it work with purifying power on him who has to taste of that cup.

Paulus thought no more of the fair, sleeping woman; tortured by acute remorse he lay on the hard stones, feeling that he had striven in vain.  When he had taken Hermas’ sin and punishment and disgrace upon himself, it had seemed to him that he was treading in the very footsteps of the Saviour.  And now?—­He felt like one who, while running for a prize, stumbles over a stone and grovels in the sand when he is already close to the goal.

“God sees the will and not the deed,” he muttered to himself.  “What I did wrong with regard to Sirona—­or what I did not do—­that matters not.  When I leaned over her, I had fallen utterly and entirely into the power of the evil one, and was an ally of the deadliest enemy of Him to whom I had dedicated my life and soul.  Of what avail was my flight from the world, and my useless sojourn in the desert?  He who always keeps out of the way of the battle can easily boast of being unconquered to the end-but is he therefore a hero?  The palm belongs to him who in the midst of the struggles and affairs of the world clings to the heavenward road, and never lets himself be diverted from it; but as for me who walk here alone, a woman and a boy cross my path, and one threatens and the other beckons to me, and I forget my aim and stumble into the bog of iniquity.  And so I cannot find—­no, here I cannot find what I strive after.  But how then—­how?  Enlighten me, O Lord, and reveal to me what I must do.”

Thus thinking he rose, knelt down, and prayed fervently; when at last he came to the ‘Amen,’ his head was burning, and his tongue parched.

The clouds had parted, though they still hung in black masses in the west; from time to time gleams of lightning shone luridly on the horizon and lighted up the jagged peak of mountain with a flare; the moon had risen, but its waning disk was frequently obscured by dark driving masses of cloud; blinding flashes, tender light, and utter darkness were alternating with bewildering rapidity, when Paulus at last collected himself, and went down to the spring to drink, and to cool his brow in the fresh water.  Striding from stone to stone he told himself, that ere he could begin a new life, he must do penance—­some heavy penance; but what was it to be?  He was standing at the very margin of the brook, hemmed in by cliffs, and was bending down to it, but before he had moistened his lips he drew back:  just because he was so thirsty he resolved to deny himself drink.  Hastily, almost vehemently, he turned his back on the spring, and after this little victory over himself, his storm-tossed heart seemed a little calmer.  Far, far from hence