"With God's help," he said to himself, "I must save her." And he slept.

The next morning, when he had said his prayers, he went to see the
sainted Palemon, a holy hermit who lived some distance away. He found
him smiling quietly as he dug the ground, as was his custom. Palemon
was an old man, and cultivated a little garden; the wild beasts came and
licked his hands, and the devils never tormented him.

"May God be praised, brother Paphnutius," he said, as he leaned upon his
spade.

"God be praised!" replied Paphnutius. "And peace be unto my brother."

"The like peace be unto thee, brother Paphnutius," said Palemon; and he
wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

"Brother Palemon, all our discourse ought to be solely the praise of Him
who has promised to be wheresoever two or three are gathered together in
His Name. That is why I come to you concerning a design I have formed to
glorify the Lord."

"May the Lord bless thy design, Paphnutius, as He has blessed my
lettuces. Every morning He spreads His grace with the dew on my garden,
and His goodness causes me to glorify Him in the cucumbers and melons
which He gives me. Let us pray that He may keep us in His peace. For
nothing is more to be feared than those unruly passions which trouble
our hearts. When these passions disturb us we are like drunken men,
and we stagger from right to left unceasingly, and are like to fall
miserably. Sometimes these passions plunge us into a turbulent joy, and
he who gives way to such, sullies the air with brutish laughter. Such