Miriam could not understand what was happening to her; she had been prepared for scoldings and blows, nay for bonds and imprisonment, and now these gentle words and kind looks!  Her defiant spirit was quelled, her eyes met the friendly eyes of her mistress, and she said in a low voice:  “he had followed me for such a long time, and wanted to ask you for me as his wife; but I cannot bear him—­I hate him as I do all your slaves.”  At these words her eyes sparkled wildly again, and with her old fire she went on, “I wish I had only hit him with a stick instead of a sickle; but I took what first came to hand to defend myself.  When a man touches me—­ I cannot bear it, it is horrible, dreadful!  Yesterday I came home later than usual with the beasts, and by the time I had milked the goats, and was going to bed, every one in the house was asleep.  Then Anubis met me, and began chattering about love; I repelled him, but he seized me, and held me with his hand here on my head and wanted to kiss me; then my blood rose, I caught hold of my reaping hook, that hung by my side, and it was not till I saw him roaring on the ground, that I saw I had done wrong.  How it happened I really cannot tell—­something seemed to rise up in me—­something—­I don’t know what to call it.  It drives me on as the wind drives the leaves that lie on the road, and I cannot help it.  The best thing you can do is to let me die, for then you would be safe once for all from my wickedness, and all would be over and done with.”

“How can you speak so?” interrupted Marthana.  “You are wild and ungovernable, but not wicked.”

“Only ask him!” cried the girl, pointing with flashing eyes to Hermas, who, on his part, looked down a the floor in confusion.  The senator exchanged a hasty glance with his wife, they were accustomed to under stand each other without speech, and Dorothea said:  “He who feels that he is not what he ought to be is already on the high-road to amendment.  We let you keep the goats because you were always running after the flocks, and never can rest in the house.  You are up on the mountain before morning-prayer, and never come home till after supper is over, and no one takes any thought for the better part of you.  Half of your guilt recoils upon us, and we have no right to punish you.  You need not be so astonished; every one some times does wrong.  Petrus and I are human beings like you, neither more nor less; but we are Christians, and it is our duty to look after the souls which God has entrusted to our care, be they our children or our slaves.  You must go no more up the mountain, but shall stay with us in the house.  I shall willingly forgive your hasty deed if Petrus does not think it necessary to punish you.”

The senator gravely shook his head in sign of agreement, and Dorothea turned to enquire of Jethro:  “Is Anubis badly wounded and does he need any care?’

“He is lying in a fever and wanders in his talk, was the answer.  “Old Praxinoa is cooling his wound with water.”