Sebastian. In front of this was a rude wooden
pulpit set very low, and upon it a great book with iron clasps and a
yellow, grinning skull.
All this I beheld at a single glance. There was no other furniture in that
little place, neither chair nor table; and the brass lamp was set upon the
floor, near a heaped-up bed of rushes and dried leaves upon which I beheld
the anchorite himself. He was lying upon his back, and seemed a vigorous,
able-bodied man of a good length.
He wore a loose brown habit roughly tied about his middle by a piece of
rope from which was suspended an enormous string of beads. His beard and
hair were black, but his face was livid as a corpse's, and as I looked at
him he emitted a fresh groan, and writhed as if in mortal suffering.
"0 my God! My God!" I heard him crying. "Am I to die alone? Mercy! I
repent me!" And he writhed moaning, and rolled over on his side so that he
faced me, and I saw that his livid countenance was glistening with sweat.
I stepped aside and lifted the latch of the rude door.
"Are you suffering, father?" I asked, almost fearfully. At the sound of my
voice, he suddenly sat up, and there was a great fear in his eyes. Then he
fell back again with a cry.
"I thank Thee, my God! I thank Thee!"
I entered, and crossing to his side, I went down on my knees beside him.
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