discus, he had vowed a strict fast.

"And now," cried Hermas, when his father declared himself satisfied,
after seeming to relish greatly the strong meat from which he had so long
abstained, "and now the best is to come! In this flask I have some
strengthening wine, and when it is empty it will be filled afresh."
Stephanus took the wooden beaker that his son offered him, drank a
little, and then said, while he smacked his tongue to relish the after-
taste of the noble juice, "That is something choice!--Syrian wine! only
taste it, Paulus."

Paulus took the beaker in his hand, inhaled the fragrance of the golden
fluid, and then murmured, but without putting it to his lips, "That is
not Syrian; it is Egyptian, I know it well. I should take it to be
Mareotic."

"So Sirona called it," cried Hermas, "and you know it by the mere smell!
She said it was particularly good for the sick."

"That it is," Paulus agreed; but Stephanus asked in surprise, "Sirona?
who is she?"

The cave was but dimly lighted by the fire that had been made at the
opening, so that the two anchorites could not perceive that Hermas
reddened all over as he replied, "Sirona? The Gaulish woman Sirona? Do
you not know her? She is the wife of the centurion down in the oasis."

"How do you come to know her?" asked his father.

"She lives in Petrus' house," replied the lad, "and as she had heard of