They both rose before daybreak; Hermas went once more down to the well,
knelt down near it, and felt as though he were bidding farewell to his
father and Miriam.

Memories of every kind rose up in his soul, and so mighty is the
glorifying power of love that the miserable, brown-skinned shepherdess
Miriam seemed to him a thousand-fold more beautiful than that splendid
woman who filled the soul of a great artist with delight.

Shortly after sunrise Paulus conducted him to the fishing-port, and to
the Israelite friend who managed the business of his father's house; he
caused him to be bountifully supplied with gold and accompanied him to
the ship laden with charcoal, that was to convey hire to Klysma.

The parting was very painful to him, and when Hermas saw his eyes full of
tears and felt his hands tremble, he said, "Do not be troubled about me,
Paulus; we shall meet again, and I will never forget you and my father."

"And your mother," added the anchorite. "I shall miss you sorely, but
trouble is the very thing I look for. He who succeeds in making the
sorrows of the whole world his own--he whose soul is touched by a sorrow
at every breath he draws--he indeed must long for the call of the
Redeemer."

Hermas fell weeping on his neck and started to feel how burning the
anchorite's lips were as he pressed them to his forehead.

At last the sailors drew in the ropes; Paulus turned once more to the
youth. "You are going your own way now," he said. "Do not forget the
Holy Mountain, and hear this: Of all sins three are most deadly: To