the slope, we will go up and down the level here two or three times."
She took his arm, and he led her slowly up and down.

It vividly recalled a picture of the days of his youth, and he remembered
a day when his sister, who was recovering from a severe attack of fever,
was first allowed to go out into the open air. She had gone out,
clinging to his arm into the peristyle of his father's house; as he
walked backward and forwards with poor, weary, abandoned Sirona, his
neglected figure seemed by degrees to assume the noble aspect of a high-
born Greek; and instead of the rough, rocky soil, he felt as if he were
treading the beautiful mosaic pavement of his father's court. Paulus was
Menander again, and if there was little in the presence of the recluse,
which could recall his identity with the old man he had trodden down, the
despised anchorite felt, while the expelled and sinful woman leaned on
his arm, the same proud sense of succoring a woman, as when he was the
most distinguished youth of a metropolis, and when he had led forward the
master's much courted daughter in the midst of a shouting troop of
slaves.

Sirona had to remind Paulus that night was coming on, and was startled,
when the hermit removed her hand from his arm with ungentle haste, and
called to her to follow him with a roughness that was quite new to him.
She obeyed, and wherever it was necessary to climb over the rocks, he
supported and lifted her, but he only spoke when she addressed him.

When they had reached their destination, he showed her the bed, and
begged her to keep awake, till he should have prepared a dish of warm
food for her, and he shortly brought her a simple supper, and wished her
a good night's rest, after she had taken it.