things, perhaps about unreal things, these restraints and
duties and sacrifices-if I were only free from them all, and
could only forget them all, then I could live my life as I
pleased, and be happy."

"Why not?" said a quiet voice at his back.

He turned, and saw an old man with a long beard and a
threadbare cloak (the garb affected by the pagan philosophers)
standing behind him and smiling curiously.

"How is it that you answer that which has not been
spoken?" said Hermas; "and who are you that honour me with
your company?"

"Forgive the intrusion," answered the stranger; "it is not
ill meant. A friendly interest is as good as an introduction."

"But to what singular circumstance do I owe this interest?"

"To your face," said the old man, with a courteous
inclination. "Perhaps also a little to the fact that I am the
oldest inhabitant here, and feel as if all visitors were my
guests, in a way."

"Are you, then, one of the keepers of the grove? And have
you given up your work with the trees to take a holiday as a
philosopher?

"Not at all. The robe of philosophy is a mere