tongue refused its office. She listened with the tension of terror to
the sound of the steps which came straight towards her nearer and nearer,
then the wanderer perceived the faint gleam of her white dress, and
called out to her. It was Paulus.

She drew a deep breath of relief when she recognized his voice, and
answered his call.

"In such weather as this," said the anchorite, "it is better to be within
than without, it seems to me, for it is not particularly pleasant out
here, so far as I have found."

"But it has been frightful here inside the cave too," Sirona answered,
"I have been so dreadfully frightened, I was so lonely in the horrible
darkness. If only I had had my little dog with me, it would at least
have been a living being."

"I have made haste as well as I could," interrupted Paulus. "The paths
are not so smooth here as the Kanopic road in Alexandria, and as I have
not three necks like Cerberus, who lies at the feet of Serapis, it would
have been wiser of me to return to you a little more leisurely. The
storm-bird has swallowed up all the stars as if they were flies, and the
poor old mountain is so grieved at it, that streams of tears are
everywhere flowing over his stony cheeks. It is wet even here. Now go
back into the cave, and let me lay this that I have got here for you in
my arms, in the dry passage. I bring you good news; to-morrow evening,
when it is growing dusk, we start. I have found out a vessel which will
convey us to Klysma, and from thence I myself will conduct you to
Alexandria. In the sheepskin here you will find the dress and veil of an
Amalekite woman, and if your traces are to be kept hidden from