and the fisherman he started; if he had followed his first impulse, he
would have turned and have taken to flight, but his clear eyes had met
the dull and searching glance of the centurion, and, blushing at his own
weakness, he stood still with his arms crossed, and proudly and defiantly
awaited the Gaul who with his companion came straight up to him.

Talib had previously seen the youth by his father's side; he recognized
him and asked how long he had been there, and if he had come direct from
the mountain. Hermas answered him as was becoming, and understood at
once that it was not he that the centurion was seeking.

Perfectly reassured and not without curiosity he looked at the new-comer,
and a smile curled his lips as he observed that the lean old man,
exhausted by his long and hurried ride, could scarcely hold himself on
his beast, and at the same time it struck him that this pitiable old man
was the husband of the blooming and youthful Sirona. Far from feeling
any remorse for his intrusion into this man's house, he yielded entirely
to the audacious humor with which his aspect filled him, and when
Phoebicius himself asked him as to whether he had not met on his way with
a fair-haired woman and a limping greyhound, he replied, repressing his
laughter with difficulty:

"Aye, indeed! I did see such a woman and her dog, but I do not think it
was lame."

"Where did you see her?" asked Phoebicius hastily. Hermas colored, for
he was obliged to tell an untruth, and it might be that he would do
Sirona an injury by giving false information. He therefore ventured to
give no decided answer, but enquired, "Has the woman committed some crime
that you are pursuing her?"