"And Phoebicius flogged him?" cried Hermas beside himself. "And the
poor fellow bore this disgrace and your blame, and all--all for my sake.
Now I understand what he meant! I met him after the battle and he told
me that my father was dead. When he parted from me, he said he was of
all sinners the greatest, and that I should hear it said down in the
oasis. But I know better; he is great-hearted and good, and I will not
bear that he should be disgraced and slandered for my sake." Hermas had
sprung up with these words, and as he met the astonished gaze of his
hosts, he tried to collect himself, and said:

"Paulus never even saw Sirona, and I repeat it, if there is a man who may
boast of being good and pure and quite without sin, it is he. For me,
and to save me from punishment and my father from sorrow, he owned a sin
that he never committed. Such a deed is just like him--the brave--
faithful friend! But such shameful suspicion and disgrace shall not
weigh upon him a moment longer!"

"You are speaking to an older man," said Petrus angrily interrupting the
youth's vehement speech. "Your friend acknowledged with his own lips--"

"Then he told a lie out of pure goodness," Hermas insisted. "The
sheepskin that the Gaul found was mine. I had gone to Sirona, while her
husband was sacrificing to Mithras, to fetch some wine for my father, and
she allowed me to try on the centurion's armor; when he unexpectedly
returned I leaped out into the street and forgot that luckless sheepskin.
Paulus met me as I fled, and said he would set it all right, and sent me
away--to take my place and save my father a great trouble. Look at me as
severely as you will, Dorothea, but it was only in thoughtless folly that
I slipped into the Gaul's house that evening, and by the memory of my