world; and the Hermit knew it was the sea. Fear seized him then, for
it was terrible to see that great plain move like a heaving bosom,
and, as he looked on it, the earth seemed also to heave beneath him.
But presently he remembered how Christ had walked the waves, and how
even Saint Mary of Egypt, who was a great sinner, had crossed the
waters of Jordan dry-shod to receive the Sacrament from the Abbot
Zosimus; and then the Hermit's heart grew still, and he sang as he
went down the mountain: "The sea shall praise Thee, O Lord."

All day he kept seeing it and then losing it; but toward night he
came to a cleft of the hills, and lay down in a pine-wood to sleep.
He had now been six days gone, and once and again he thought
anxiously of his herbs; but he said to himself: "What though my
garden perish, if I see a holy man face to face and praise God in
his company?" So he was never long cast down.

Before daylight he was afoot under the stars; and leaving the wood
where he had slept, began climbing the face of a tall cliff, where
he had to clutch the jutting ledges with his hands, and with every
step he gained, a rock seemed thrust forth to hurl him back. So,
footsore and bleeding, he reached a little stony plain as the sun
dropped to the sea; and in the red light he saw a hollow rock, and
the Saint sitting in the hollow.

The Hermit fell on his knees, praising God; then he rose and ran
across the plain to the rock. As he drew near he saw that the Saint
was a very old man, clad in goatskin, with a long white beard. He
sat motionless, his hands on his knees, and two red eye-sockets
turned to the sunset. Near him was a young boy in skins who brushed
the flies from his face; but they always came back, and settled on