“What besides?” she cried, waving her hand as if to wave away a bat.  “If no bird ever flew away from the nest there would be a pretty swarm in it.  Look at my kids there—­as long as they need their mother they run about after her, but as soon as they can find their food alone they seek it wherever they can find it, and I can tell you the yearlings there have quite forgotten whether they sucked the yellow dam or the brown one.  And what great things does your father do for you?”

“Silence!” interrupted the youth with excited indignation.  “The evil one speaks through thee.  Get thee from me, for I dare not hear that which I dare not utter.”

“Dare, dare, dare!” she sneered.  “What do you dare then? not even to listen!”

“At any rate not to what you have to say, you goblin!” he exclaimed vehemently.  “Your voice is hateful to me, and if I meet you again by the well I will drive you away with stones.”

While he spoke thus she stared speechless at him, the blood had left her lips, and she clenched her small hands.  He was about to pass her to fetch some water, but she stepped into his path, and held him spell-bound with the fixed gaze of her eyes.  A cold chill ran through him when she asked him with trembling lips and a smothered voice, “What harm have I done you?”

“Leave me!” said he, and he raised his hand to push her away from the water.

“You shall not touch me,” she cried beside herself.  “What harm have I done you?”

“You know nothing of God,” he answered, “and he who is not of God is of the Devil.”

“You do not say that of yourself,” answered she, and her voice recovered its tone of light mockery.  “What they let you believe pulls the wires of your tongue just as a hand pulls the strings of a puppet.  Who told you that I was of the Devil?”

“Why should I conceal it from you?” he answered proudly.  “Our pious Paulus, warned me against you and I will thank him for it.  ’The evil one,’ he says, ‘looks out of your eyes,’ and he is right, a thousand times right.  When you look at me I feel as if I could tread every thing that is holy under foot; only last night again I dreamed I was whirling in a dance with you—­”

At these words all gravity and spite vanished from Miriam’s eyes; she clapped her hands and cried, “If it had only been the fact and not a dream!  Only do not be frightened again, you fool!  Do you know then what it is when the pipes sound, and the lutes tinkle, and our feet fly round in circles as if they had wings?”

“The wings of Satan,” Hermas interrupted sternly.  “You are a demon, a hardened heathen.”

“So says our pious Paulus,” laughed the girl.

“So say I too,” cried the young man.  “Who ever saw you in the assemblies of the just?  Do you pray?  Do you ever praise the Lord and our Saviour?”

“And what should I praise them for?” asked Miriam.  “Because I am regarded as a foul fiend by the most pious among you perhaps?”