Why　do　you　look　so　black？　　Love　is　alive　yet。〃
  Hermas　shook　off　her　hand；　but　not　ungently。
  〃I　don't　know　what　you　mean；〃　he　said。　　〃You　are　mistaken
  in　me。　　I　am　poorer　than　you　are。〃
  But　as　he　passed　on；　he　felt　the　warm　touch　of　her　fingers
  through　the　cloth　on　his　arm。　　It　seemed　as　if　she　had　plucked
  him　by　the　heart。
  He　went　out　by　the　Western　Gate；　under　the　golden　cherubim
  that　the　Emperor　Titus　had　stolen　from　the　ruined　Temple　of
  Jerusalem　and　fixed　upon　the　arch　of　triumph。　　He　turned　to
  the　left；　and　climbed　the　hill　to　the　road　that　led　to　the
  Grove　of　Daphne。
  In　all　the　world　there　was　no　other　highway　as　beautiful。
  It　wound　for　five　miles　along　the　foot　of　the　mountains；　among
  gardens　and　villas；　plantations　of　myrtles　and　mulberries；
  with　wide　outlooks　over　the　valley　of　Orontes　and　the　distant；
  shimmering　sea。
  The　richest　of　all　the　dwellings　was　the　House
  of　the　Golden　Pillars；　the　mansion　of　Demetrius。　　He　had　won
  the　favor　of　the　apostate　Emperor　Julian；　whose　vain　efforts
  to　restore　the　worship　of　the　heathen　gods；　some　twenty　years
  ago；　had　opened　an　easy　way　to　wealth　and　power　for　all　who
  would　mock　and　oppose　Christianity。　　Demetrius　was　not　a
  sincere　fanatic　like　his　royal　master；　but　he　was　bitter
  enough　in　his　professed　scorn　of　the　new　religion；　to　make　him
  a　favourite　at　the　court　where　the　old　religion　was　in
  fashion。　　He　had　reaped　a　rich　reward　of　his　policy；　and　a
  strange　sense　of　consistency　made　him　more　fiercely　loyal　to
  it　than　if　it　had　been　a　real　faith。　　He　was　proud　of　being
  called　〃the　friend　of　Julian〃；　and　when　his　son　joined　himself
  to　the　Christians；　and　acknowledged　the　unseen　God；　it　seemed
  like　an　insult　to　his　father's　success。　　He　drove　the　boy　from
  his　door　and　disinherited　him。
  The　glittering　portico　of　the　serene；　haughty　house；　the
  repose　of　the　well…ordered　garden；　still　blooming　with　belated
  flowers；　seemed　at　once　to　deride　and　to　invite　the　young
  outcast　plodding　along　the　dusty　road。　　〃This　is　your
  birthright；〃　whispered　the　clambering　rose…trees　by　the　gate；　and
  the　closed　portals　of　carven　bronze　said：　　〃You　have　sold　it　for
  a　thoughta　dream。〃'
  II
  Hermas　found　the　Grove　of　Daphne　quite　deserted。　　There　was　no
  sound　in　the　enchanted　vale　but　the　rustling　of　the　light
  winds　chasing　each　other　through　the　laurel　thickets；　and　the
  babble　of　innumerable　streams。　　Memories　of　the　days　and
  nights　of　delicate　pleasure　that　the　grove　had　often　seen
  still　haunted　the　bewildered　paths　and　broken　fountains。　　At
  the　foot　of　a　rocky　eminence；　crowned　with　the　ruins　of
  Apollo's　temple；　which　had　been　mysteriously　destroyed　by　fire
  just　after　Julian　had　restored　and　reconsecrated　it；　Hermas
  sat　down　beside　a　gushing　spring；　and　gave　himself　up　to
  sadness。
  〃How　beautiful　the　world　would　be；　how　joyful；　how　easy　to
  live　in；　without　religion！　　These　questions　about　unseen
  things；　perhaps　about　unreal　things；　these　restraints　and
  duties　and　sacrifices…if　I　were　only　free　from　them　all；　and
  could　only　forget　them　all；　then　I　could　live　my　life　as　I
  pleased；　and　be　happy。〃
  〃Why　not？〃　said　a　quiet　voice　at　his　back。
  He　turned；　and　saw　an　old　man　with　a　long　beard　and　a
  threadbare　cloak　（the　garb　affected　by　the　pagan　philosophers）
  standing　behind　him　and　smiling　curiously。
  〃How　is　it　that　you　answer　that　which　has　not　been
  spoken？〃　said　Hermas；　〃and　who　are　you　that　honour　me　with
  your　company？〃
  〃Forgive　the　intrusion；〃　answered　the　stranger；　〃it　is　not
  ill　meant。　　A　friendly　interest　is　as　good　as　an　introduction。〃
  〃But　to　what　singular　circumstance　do　I　owe　this　interest？〃
  〃To　your　face；〃　said　the　old　man；　with　a　courteous
  inclination。　　〃Perhaps　also　a　little　to　the　fact　that　I　am　the
  oldest　inhabitant　here；　and　feel　as　if　all　visitors　were　my
  guests；　in　a　way。〃
  〃Are　you；　then；　one　of　the　keepers　of　the　grove？　　And　have
  you　given　up　your　work　with　the　trees　to　take　a　holiday　as　a
  philosopher？
  〃Not　at　all。　　The　robe　of　philosophy　is　a　mere
  affectation；　I　must　confess。　　I　think　little　of　it。　　My
  profession　is　the　care　of　altars。　　In　fact；　I　am　the　solitary
  priest　of　Apollo　whom　the　Emperor　Julian　found　here　when　he
  came　to　revive　the　worship　of　the　grove；　some　twenty　years
  ago。　　You　have　heard　of　the　incident？〃
  〃Yes；〃　said　Hermas；　beginning　to　be　interested；　〃the　whole
  city　must　have　heard　of　it；　for　it　is　still　talked　of。　　But
  surely　it　was　a　strange　sacrifice　that　you　brought　to
  celebrate　the　restoration　of　Apollo's　temple？〃
  〃You　mean　the　ancient　goose？〃　said　the　old　man　laughing。
  〃Well；　perhaps　it　was　not　precisely　what　the　emperor　expected。
  But　it　was　all　that　I　had；　and　it　seemed　to　me　not
  inappropriate。　　You　will　agree　to　that　if　you　are　a　Christian；
  as　I　guess　from　your　dress。〃
  〃You　speak　lightly　for　a　priest　of　Apollo。〃
  〃Oh；　as　for　that；　I　am　no　bigot。　　The　priesthood　is　a
  professional　matter；　and　the　name　of　Apollo　is　as　good　as　any
  other。　　How　many　altars　do　you　think　there　have　been　in　this
  grove？〃
  〃I　do　not　know。〃
  〃Just　four…and…twenty；　including　that　of　the　martyr
  Babylas；　whose　ruined　chapel　you　see　just　beyond　us。　　I　have
  had　something　to　do　with　most　of　them　in　my　time。　　They　are
  transitory。　　They　give　employment　to　care…takers　for　a　while。
  But　the　thing　that　lasts；　and　the　thing　that　interests　me；　is
  the　human　life　that　plays　around　them。　　The　game　has　been
  going　on　for　centuries。　　It　still　disports　itself　very
  pleasantly　on　summer　evenings　through　these　shady　walks。
  Believe　me；　for　I　know。　　Daphne　and　Apollo　are　shadows。　　But
  the　flying　maidens　and　the　pursuing　lovers；　the　music　and　the
  dances；　these　are　realities。　　Life　is　a　game；　and　the　world
  keeps　it　up　merrily。　　But　you？　　You　are　of　a　sad　countenance
  for　one　so　young　and　so　fair。　　Are　you　a　loser　in　the　game？〃
  The　words　and　tone　of　the　speaker　fitted　Hermas'　mood　as
  a　key　fits　the　lock。　　He　opened　his　heart　to　the　old　man；　and
  told　him　the　story　of　his　life：　his　luxurious　boyhood　in　his
  father's　house；　the　irresistible　spell　which　compelled　him　to
  forsake　it　when　he　heard　John's　preaching　of　the　new　religion；
  his　lonely　year　with　the　anchorites　among　the　mountains；　the
  strict　discipline　in　his　teacher's　house　at　Antioch；　his
  weariness　of　duty；　his　distaste　for　poverty；　his　discontent　with
  worship。
  〃And　to…day；〃　said　he；　〃I　have　been　thinking　that　I　am　a
  fool。　　My　life　is　swept　as　bare　as　a　hermit's　cell。　　There　is
  nothing　in　it　but　a　dream；　a　thought　of　God；　which　does　not
  satisfy　me。〃
  The　singular　smile　deepened　on　his　companion's　face。　　〃You
  are　ready；　then；〃　he　suggested；　〃to　renounce　your　new　religion
  and　go　back　to　that　of　your　father？〃
  〃No；　I　renounce　nothing；　I　accept　nothing。　　I　do　not　wish
  to　think　about　it。　　I　only　wish　to　live。〃
  〃A　very　reasonable　wish；　and　I　think　you　are　about　to　see
  its　accomplishment。　　Indeed；　I　may　even　say　that　I　can　put　you
  in　the　way　of　securing　it。　　Do　you　believe　in　magic？〃
  〃I　do　not　know　whether　I　believe　in　anything。　　This　is　not
  a　day　on　which　I　care　to　make　professions　of　faith。　　I　believe
  in　what　I　see。　　I　want　what　will　give　me　pleasure。〃
  〃Well；〃　said　the　old　man；　soothingly；　as　he　plucked　a　leaf
  from　the　laurel…tree　above　them　and　dipped　it　in　the　spring；　〃let
  us　dismiss　the　riddles　of　belief。　　I　like　them　as　little　as　you
  do。　　You　know　this　is　a　Castalian　fountain。　　The　Emperor　Hadrian
  once　read　his　fortune　here　from　a　leaf　dipped　in　the　water。　　Let
  us　see　what　this　leaf　tells　us。　　It　is　already　turning　yellow。
  How　do　you　read　that？〃
  〃Wealth；〃　said　Hermas；　laughing；　as　he　looked　at　his　mean
  garments。
  〃And　here　is　a　bud　on　the　stem　that　seems　to　be　swelling。
  What　is　that？〃
  〃Pleasure；〃　answered　Hermas；　bitterly。
  〃And　here　is　a　tracing　of　wreaths　upon　the　surface。　　What
  do　you　make　of　that？〃
  〃What　you　will；〃　said　Hermas；　not　even　taking　the　trouble
  to　look。　　〃Suppose　we　say　success　and　fame？〃
  〃Yes；〃　said　the　stranger；　〃it　is　all　written　here。　　I
  promise　that　you　shall　enjoy　it　all。　　But　you　do　not　need　to
  believe　in　my　promise。　　I　am　not　in　the　habit　of　requiring
  faith　of　those　whom　I　would　serve。　　No　such　hard　conditions
  for　me！　　There　is　only　one　thing　that　I　ask。　　This　is　the　season
  that　you　Christians　call　the　Christmas；　and　you　have　taken　up　the
  pagan　custom　of　exchanging　gifts。　　Well；　if　I　give　to　you；　you
  must　give　to　me。　　It　is　a　small　thing；　and　really　the　thing　you
  can　best　afford　to　part　with：　a　single　wordthe　name　of　Him　you
  profess　to　worship。　　Let　me　take　that　word　and　all　that
  belongs　to　it　entirely　out　of　your　life；　so　that　you　shall
  never　hear　it　or　speak　it　again。　　You　will　be　richer　without
  it。　　I　promise　you　everything；　and　this　is　all　I　ask　in
  return。　　Do　you　consent？〃
  〃Yes。　　I　consent；〃　said　Hermas；　mocking。　　〃If　you　can　take
  your　price；　a　word；　you　can　keep　your　promise；　a　dream。〃
  The　stranger　laid　the　long；　cool；　wet　leaf　softly　across
  the　young　man's　eyes。　　An　icicle　of　pain　darted　through　them；
  every　nerve　in　his　body　was　drawn　together　there　in　a　knot　of
  agony。
  Then　all　the　tangle　of　pain　seemed　to　be　lifted　out　of
  him。　　A　cool　languor　of　delight　flowed　back　through　every
  vein；　and　he　sank　into　a　profound　sl