I am in a strange mood--perhaps it is the wine.

I had not drunk any for so long; I had fasted since--since but it does not matter.

Be silent, quite silent, and let me tell my story." Paulus sat down on Hermas' bed; he threw himself far back, leaned the back of his head against the rocky wall of the cavern, through whose doorway the daylight poured, and began thus, while he gazed fixedly into vacancy, "What she was like ?--who can, describe her?
She was tall and large like Hera, and yet not proud, and her noble Greek face was lovely rather than handsome.
"She could no longer have been very young, but she had eyes like those of a gentle child.

I never knew her other than very pale; her narrow forehead shone like ivory under her soft brown hair; her beautiful hands were as white as her forehead-hands that moved as if they themselves were living and inspired creatures with a soul and language of their own.

When she folded them devoutly together it seemed as if they were putting up a mute prayer.