This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
By Georg Ebers
Common natures can only be lightly touched by the immeasurable depth ofanguish that is experienced by a soul that despairs of itself; but themore heavily the blow of such suffering falls, the more surely does itwork with purifying power on him who has to taste of that cup.
Paulus thought no more of the fair, sleeping woman; tortured by acuteremorse he lay on the hard stones, feeling that he had striven in vain.When he had taken Hermas' sin and punishment and disgrace upon himself,it had seemed to him that he was treading in the very footsteps of theSaviour. And now?—He felt like one who, while running for a prize,stumbles over a stone and grovels in the sand when he is already close tothe goal.
"God sees the will and not the deed," he muttered to himself. "What Idid wrong with regard to Sirona—or what I did not do—that matters not.When I leaned over her, I had fallen utterly and entirely into the powerof the evil one, and was an ally of the deadliest enemy of Him to whom Ihad dedicated my life and soul. Of what avail was my flight from theworld, and my useless sojourn in the desert? He who always keeps out ofthe way of the battle can easily boast of being unconquered to the end-but is he therefore a hero? The palm belongs to him who in the midst ofthe struggles and affairs of the world clings to the heavenward road, andnever lets himself be diverted from it; but as for me who walk herealone, a woman and a boy cross my path, and one threatens and the otherbeckons to me, and I forget my aim and stumble into the bog of iniquity.And so I cannot find—no, here I cannot find what I strive after. Buthow then—how? Enlighten me, O Lord, and reveal to me what I must do."
Thus thinking he rose, knelt down, and prayed fervently; when at last hecame to the 'Amen,' his head was burning, and his tongue parched.
The clouds had parted, though they still hung in black masses in thewest; from time to time gleams of lightning shone luridly on the horizonand lighted up the jagged peak of mountain with a flare; the moon hadrisen, but its waning disk was frequently obscured by dark driving massesof cloud; blinding flashes, tender light, and utter darkness werealternating with bewildering rapidity, when Paulus at last collectedhimself, and went down to the spring to drink, and to cool his brow inthe fresh water. Striding from stone to stone he told himself, that erehe could begin a new life, he must do penance—some heavy penance; butwhat was it to be? He was standing at the very margin of the brook,hemmed in by cliffs, and was bending down to it, but before he hadmoistened his lips he drew back: just because he was so thirsty heresolved to deny himself drink. Hastily, almost vehemently, he turnedhis back on the spring, and after this little victory over himself, hisstorm-tossed heart seemed a little calmer. Far, far from hence and fromthe wilderness and from the Sacred Mountain he felt impelled to fly, andhe would gladly have fled then and there to a distance. Whither shouldhe flee? It was all the same, for he was in search of suffering, andsuffering, like weeds, grows on every road. And from whom? Thisquestion repeated itself again and again as if he had shouted it in thevery home of echo, and the answer was not hard to find: "It is fromyourse