"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 affectation, I must
confess. I think little of it. My profession is the care of altars.
In fact, I am that solitary priest of Apollo whom the Emperor Julian
found here when he came to revive the worship of the grove, some
twenty years ago. You have heard of the incident?"

"Yes," said Hermas, beginning to be interested; "the whole city must
have heard of it, for it is still talked of. But surely it was a
strange sacrifice that you brought to celebrate the restoration of
Apollo's temple?"

"You mean the goose? Well, perhaps it was not precisely what the
emperor expected. But it was all that I had, and it seemed to me not
inappropriate. You will agree to that if you are a Christian, as I
guess from your dress."