But the thing that lasts, and the thing that interests me, is
the human life that plays around them. The game has been
going on for centuries. It still disports itself very
pleasantly on summer evenings through these shady walks.
Believe me, for I know. Daphne and Apollo are shadows. But
the flying maidens and the pursuing lovers, the music and the
dances, these are realities. Life is a game, and the world
keeps it up merrily. But you? You are of a sad countenance
for one so young and so fair. Are you a loser in the game?"
The words and tone of the speaker fitted Hermas' mood as
a key fits the lock. He opened his heart to the old man, and
told him the story of his life: his luxurious boyhood in his
father's house; the irresistible spell which compelled him to
forsake it when he heard John's preaching of the new religion;
his lonely year with the anchorites among the mountains; the
strict discipline in his teacher's house at Antioch; his
weariness of duty, his distaste for poverty, his discontent with
worship.

"And to-day," said he, "I have been thinking that I am a
fool. My life is swept as bare as a hermit's cell. There is
nothing in it but a dream, a thought of God, which does not
satisfy me."

The singular smile deepened on his companion's face. "You
are ready, then," he suggested, "to renounce your new religion
and go back to that of your father?"

"No; I renounce nothing, I accept nothing. I do not wish
to think about it. I only wish to live."