my lot, and I never shall.--Well, when my beard grew I succeeded in
escaping and I lived for a time in the world. I have been even to Rome,
to Carthage, and in Syria; but at last I longed to drink Nile-water once
more and I returned to Egypt. Why? Because, fool that I was, I fancied
that bread and water with captivity tasted better in my own country than
cakes and wine with freedom in the land of the stranger.

"In my father's house I found only my mother still living, for my father
had died of grief. Before my flight she had been a tall, fine woman,
when I came home I found her faded and dying. Anxiety for me, a
miserable wretch, had consumed her, said the physician--that was the
hardest thing to bear. When at last the poor, good little woman, who
could so fondly persuade me--a wild scamp--implored me on her death-bed
to return to my retreat, I yielded, and swore to her that I would stay in
my prison patiently to the end, for I am as water is in northern
countries, a child may turn me with its little hand or else I am as hard
and as cold as crystal. My old mother died soon after I had taken this
oath. I kept my word as you see--and you have seen too how I endure my
fate."

"Patiently enough," replied Publius, "I should writhe in my chains far
more rebelliously than you, and I fancy it must do you good to rage and
storm sometimes as you did just now."

"As much good as sweet wine from Chios!" exclaimed the anchorite,
smacking his lips as if he tasted the noble juice of the grape, and
stretching his matted head as far as possible out of the window. Thus it
happened that he saw Irene, and called out to her in a cheery voice:

"What are you doing there, child? You are standing as if you were