The anchorite Gelasius saw from afar the figure of the girl flying up the
mountain in the moonlight, and her shadow flitting from stone to stone,
and he threw himself on the ground, and signed a cross on his brow, for
he thought he saw a goblin-form, one of the myriad gods of the heathen--
an Oread pursued by a Satyr. Sirona had heard the girl's shriek.

"What was that?" she asked the youth, who stood before her in the full-
dress uniform of a Roman officer, as handsome as the young god of war,
though awkward and unsoldierly in his movements.

"An owl screamed--" replied Hermas. "My father must at last tell me
from what house we are descended, and I will go to Byzantium, the new
Rome, and say to the emperor, 'Here am I, and I will fight for you among
your warriors.'"

"I like you so!" exclaimed Sirona.

"If that is the truth," cried Hermas, "prove it to me! Let me once press
my lips to your shining gold hair. You are beautiful, as sweet as a
flower--as gay and bright as a bird, and yet as hard as our mountain
rock. If you do not grant me one kiss, I shall long till I am sick and
weak before I can get away from here, and prove my strength in battle."

"And if I yield," laughed Sirona, "you will be wanting another and
another kiss, and at last not get away at all. No, no, my friend--I am
the wiser of us two. Now go into the dark room, I will look out and see
whether the people are gone in again, and whether you can get off unseen
from the street window, for you have been here much too long already. Do
you hear? I command you."