“And thereby sent her to me,” interposed Fabiola, “to be my angel of life. Remember, Orontius, that Joseph was sold by his brethren, only that he might save his race.”
“You are too good, indeed, towards one so worthless,” resumed the pilgrim; “but I will not thank you for your kindness to another who has repaid you so richly. Only this morning I have learnt your mercy to one who could have no claim upon you.”
“I do not understand you,” observed Fabiola.
“Then I will tell you all plainly,” rejoined Orontius. “I have now been for many years a member of one of those communities in Palestine, of men who live separated from the world in desert places, dividing their day, and even their night, between singing the Divine praises, contemplation, and the labor of their hands. Severe penance for our past transgressions, fasting, mourning, and prayer form the great duty of our penitential state. Have you heard of such men here?”
“The fame of holy Paul and Anthony is as great in the West as in the East,” replied the lady.
“It is with the greatest disciple of the latter that I have lived, supported by his great example, and the consolation he has given me. But one thought troubled me, and prevented my feeling complete assurance of safety even after years of expiation. Before I left Rome I had contracted a heavy debt, which must have been accumulating at a frightful rate of interest, till it had reached an overwhelming amount. Yet it was an obligation deliberately contracted, and not to be justly evaded. I was a poor cenobite,[241] barely living on the produce of the few palm-leaf mats that I could weave, and the scanty herbs that would grow in the sand. How could I discharge my obligations?
“Only one means remained. I could give myself up to my creditor as a slave, to labor for him and endure his blows and scornful reproaches in patience, or to be sold by him for my value, for I am yet strong. In either case, I should have had my Saviour’s example to cheer and support me. At any rate, I should have given up all that I had—myself.
“I went this morning to the Forum, found my creditor’s son, examined his accounts, and found that you had discharged my debt in full. I am, therefore, your bondsman, Lady Fabiola, instead of the Jew’s.” And he knelt humbly at her feet.
“Rise, rise,” said Fabiola, turning away her weeping eyes. “You are no bondsman of mine, but a dear brother in our common Lord.”
Then sitting down with him, she said: “Orontius, I have a great favor to ask from you. Give me some account of how you were brought to that life, which you have so generously embraced.”