walking as half asleep, and belabored at every step by shrieking Irebut, when these twain beheld the Jew, they halted.

And, as so often happens in a dream, there were changes and unaccountable blendings of one person with another. And the Jew looked with wonderment and increasing awe.

The features of all these strangely distorted people, saving Ira and Accidius alone, began to take on for him a familiar expression, the people themselves to draw up closer each to each. At length they merged into only one gigantic person which got itself incontinently upon a black pedestal, and looked at the Jew with a stony stare which aroused in his heart a sickening self-consciousness.

And behold, The Thing had become a graven image, with strange suggestions in its eyes both of animals and of gods.

And the face of the image appeared as if known to the Jew, and Simon beheld and saw that the features were his own. Yea, the idol was indeed becoming himself.

And in front of this ego (spite of his utmost power of will against the act) the man cast himself prostrate, and worshipped. Again and yet again, whether he would or no, he worshipped, in ceaseless and passionate adoration.

Then the Voice took shape, and became Ophidion, which laughed the worshipper to scorn, saying: "Thou wilt be ever an idolater, O priest of the Almighty, for thou wilt worship either dead wood or ravening beasts, or the multiplied empty forms of thine own religion, or else these the base passions which are become thyself. And even in the future (if this image here and I did suffer thee to live) thou wouldst worship little gems and gold, and yet one other, and even baser thing, which I would tell thee of, but that, if I told thee, thou mightest find some joy therein. Pah! Thou a priest of holiness!"

The Jew cried unto the Mocker, "I pray thee, let this thing pass from me, for I declare unto thee, first, that all these distorted people have been as a school to me, and next, that all the time when I consorted with them (but never with Accidius and Ira) I was thinking solely of Amahnah, and how I might yet return unto her, but behold, I was fain, for a time, to keep going onward into the distance, that I might remain out of the Mines of the Wretched-the whereunto thou thyself didst cause that I should be imprisoned. Moreover, that very confinement did so shape me that I became an easier prey to those people."

But Ophidion answered, "It is habit now, this, thy newer, idolatry. In any case see! This image is alive. It and I will strangle thee unto destruction, and send thy worthless soul to Hades."

So the image came down from its pedestal, and, together with Ophidion, laid hands upon the Jew, and would surely have strangled him, but that a flash showed and thunder resounded and a great, bright angel came flying from across the Peaks of Time, and put the grim adversaries of the Jew into confusion and drave them far away, crying unto Simon: "This is merely a dream, for many strange things shall lie about thee in the World of Waking, to be done by thy hands; and some of thy thoughts thyself shalt surely imagine, and others shall come unto thee-who shall say from whence? But behold, the plan is wholly God's.-Wilt thou not be about His business? Wilt thou not awake? Wilt thou not awake?"

CHAPTER XXXIV

LEVITAS, IN GAUL

AND behold, Simon was truly awakening, while Cush, the Ethiopian, did pluck him by his sleeve, crying: "Master, it thundereth and there is one would speak with thee. Wilt thou not awake? See! he may be as a friend!"

And the Jew beheld that the man who would speak unto him was the merchant (or be it some philosopher) who sate in a yellow garment on a white horse, and whom he had seen a-coming straight toward him, ere he had fallen asleep.

The Jew laughed, saying: "Such a foolish dream! I crave thy pardon, Lord. I had thought I should never have come forth out of that dream, so long did I seem to remain in it, but behold, I have slept but merely one or two moments of time."

The man smiled also, saying: "Life is but a dream. Nothing at all exists. We fall asleep only from one dream to another, and merely waken to the first again." Then, after a course of speech as concerning many things, he saith to the Jew: "My name is Skepticus, my calling that of a philosopher. Art thou Simon, aforetime of Cyrene?"

The Jew answered and said unto him, "I will not deny it. Thou sayest I am.'

Then saith the man, "I know that thou hast escaped from the mines of Cæsar, and yet I will not inform concerning thee, but will tell thee something useful (before, good sooth, I break unto thee mad and melancholy tidings). And the useful thing-that which I would tell thee first-is, namely, that this Ophidion, otherwise called Sarcogenes, who is a Christian and thy worst enemy, hath ceased to be a

delator (albeit he was aforetime the prince of the body of delators), and hath become, instead, a comes principis, companion unto Cæsar, and sitteth not infrequently at Cæsar's right hand. He hath, then, I need not tell thee, O Simon of Cyrene, great dominion over thee, and willeth, if thou be but caught, that thou shouldst be returned unto the Mines, or else crucified. For he hath an idea, this foolish Ophidion (wise and cunning as he is in many other respects) that, by inflicting punishment upon thee, he punisheth some god-or at least interfereth with that god's work.

"Now, it is clear that a man cannot interfere with the work of any god. Moreover, there is no god. But, however it be about these matters, I have told thee truly, and desire but to place thee on thy guard as toucheth Ophidion. For lo! I have learned of thy sufferings and am wounded by them. Moreover, I wished to speak about these lesser things before I gave thee the far greater tidings, which chiefly I did come hither (having learned about thee in the night) to inform thee concerning."

Simon thanked the man, and began trembling.

Then said Skepticus, "Canst thou bear a heavy word, standing up under it?"

Simon answered him, "I have already borne many things, most of them heavy as lead.'

But Skepticus: "Yet this one thing I fear thou canst not bear." He looked the Jew in the eye with commiseration.

Then went the Jew straight up to the philosopher, and laid heavy hands upon him, crying: "How is it with Amahnah-for I have loved her day and night, both in the Mines and since I escaped. Tell me, and deny me nothing."

The man, turning his face away, saith unto Simon: "Amahnah is dead."

"My children-those precious babes?"

"Become Christians."

The Jew began to pray fearfully for Amahnah, yet also to curse his two sons.

And Skepticus, after a time, looking afar off, told the Jew how his wife and children had suffered shipwreck, and that now no hope was had at all of Amahnah. "They three were coming," said he, "from Jerusalem to Rome-no doubt in search of thee. I was aboard their ship, and a clansman of thine also, thy former teacher, Parush. A storm arose. And Parush took the helm even out of the hands of the gubernator. And the ship struck a rock. We twain saw thy loved ones sink beneath the waves. But the children were rescued.

Parush-he liveth now in Rome, in the quarter of the Jews, but I who am travelling ever, both up and down the world, I promised both to Parush and to myself that I would find thee out and instruct thee as concerning these things. What, Simon! Canst thou not stand up still?"

But when the philosopher saw that the Jew could no longer keep straight, but had fallen, he stayed not then to comfort him, but rode away, calling back, however: "Thou hast a servant (whose name seemeth, rightly enough, to be 'Despicatus'). He will see to thy bodily necessities. And I have other aims, for behold I am even now due at the Castle of Levitas, in the heart of Gaul."

And the blackamoor did help, having compassion on his master, saying, time and yet again: "Comfort, Lord! Be comforted. Some philosophers say, 'Be humble.'"

And after a time the Jew rose up, apostrophizing: "O Amahnah thou art dead, and our children were even better in their graves. Let them be accursed. But if ever I forget thee, Amahnah, let my right hand forget its cunning. Thou shalt be, at the least, as a beautiful memory unto me, O lovely Covenant, and shalt protect me from the ways of the heathen for so long as I shall live."

But in his soul he felt a desire for further discourse with that philosopher which had brought him the news of Amahnah's death, for he thought that the philosopher must know more things about his wife's departure. So he said to Cush, or Despicatus: "Knowest thou which way he went, the man that was just here?"

Cush said, "Yea; philosopher say he go Castle of Levitas, in heart of Gaul."

1

Then said Simon, "Cush, I will take thee as my servant from now henceforth. And first we will go to the Castle of Levitas, for I must speak again with Skepticus. And next we will take us to Toletanum, back in Spain, and, next thereafter, when I shall have learned the language of the place, we shall take us to a wild and distant country. Wilt thou go with me? Up then! Let us be on the road."

When they had fared for many days they came to a sunny, but withal stormy, province, known as Otium, where the going was very bad; thence to Ebrietas, a pleasant land of many rich grapes, but foully beset with tipsy people; and at length unto another known as Ebriositas, a place of great drunkards and naked poverty, which depended for its upkeep on Ebrietas. And in neither of these lands

1 The modern Toledo, famous even in antiquity for its manufacture of steel.

did Simon of Cyrene become a-drunken. Neither did he permit that his servant should become so.

And they came to the city of Volutabrum (which, being interpreted, meaneth "A wallowing-place for swine"). Going into a tavern, seeking rest and sustenance, they beheld that the place was filled with drunken roysterers. And when these had expended all their moneys, and could buy no more wine, then slipped one of them back behind the Jew and struck him with a weapon, that he fell senseless.

And Despicatus fled.

But the drunkards took the Jew's bulga and his scrip, and having laid the man's body in a field at the outskirts of the city, returned to their roystering.

And Simon awoke. And he said, "Behold, even if a man be not himself a drunkard, yet, by the mere association with such fellows, he is bound to lose. Lucky am I that I carried not my riches in a single place, but have still about me a golden girdle. And all these things shall be as a school to me hereafter."

And just beyond the borders of Ebriositas, he asked again his

way.

The drunkard which answered, said unto him: "The Castle of Levitas? It stands but a valley or two distant-on the airiest pinnacle of rock that ever a castle was built on. That castle will fall, on a day. But it standeth, as now, in the heart of Gaul. "Tis the only place that the Romans themselves could not quite demolish. Mayhap 'twill fall of itself. Meantime it is a lovely edifice enough." "And this Levitas," asked Simon, "who is he? And will he be like to give me a welcome?"

"He is Count of all the Parisii," said the drunkard, "and he welcometh all men, so they come with song and mirth and no heavy business or sorrow-unless indeed it be hidden in their hearts. Hark! Methought I could hear for a moment certain sounds of his mad revelry. Go ye across the valley of Men's Bones, which beginneth yonder, and then ye shall surely hear his shouts, and so be guided.”

Simon did as the drunkard had told him, and when he had crossed the valley which was covered with the skeletons of men, he heard indeed the wild, uproarious festivities of Levitas and his drunken crew, and, going but a valley or so farther onward, beheld the scarlet castle with its pennants flying, built solely upon a great black rock which jutted far out over an immeasurable abyss.

But Simon toiled on up to the castle. And having come to the drawbridge, he said: "I bring no heavy business or sorrow, but