painfully blowing the charcoal Hermas came up to him.

He had learned from Polykarp's escort where Paulus was to be found, and
as he stood opposite his friend he grasped his hand, stroked his rough
hair and thanked him with deep and tender emotion for the great sacrifice
he had made for him when he had taken upon himself the dishonoring
punishment of his fault.

Paulus declined all pity or thanks, and spoke to Hermas of his father and
of his future, until it was light, and the young man prepared to go down
to the oasis to pay the last honors to the dead. To his entreaty that he
would accompany him, Paulus only answered:

"No--no; not now, not now; for if I were to mix with men now I should fly
asunder like a rotten wineskin full of fermenting wine; a swarm of bees
is buzzing in my head, and an ant-hill is growing in my bosom. Go now
and leave me alone."

After the funeral ceremony Hermas took an affectionate leave of Agapitus,
Petrus, and Dorothea, and then returned to the Alexandrian, with whom he
went to the cave where he had so long lived with his dead father.

There Paulus delivered to him his father's letter to his uncle, and spoke
to him more lovingly than he had ever done before. At night they both
lay down on their beds, but neither of them found rest or sleep.

From time to time Paulus murmured in a low voice, but in tones of keen
anguish, "In vain--all in vain--" and again, "I seek, I seek--but who can
show me the way?"