"Then listen, and I'll tell it you."
A great many years ago, in the times of Christ and His disciples, there lived somewhere in Asia a very good man, who had left off worshipping idols and had become a Christian.
Finding soon afterwards that it was impossible for him to dwell any more with his own people—who scoffed at his new creed, rated him for wishing to be better than they were, mocked him when he prayed, and played all kinds of tricks on him when he fasted—he sold his birthright and divided all his money amongst the poor, the blind and the cripples of his native town. Then he bade farewell to all his friends and relations, and with the Holy Scriptures in one hand, and a staff in the other, he went out of the town gate and walked into the wilderness.
He wandered for many days until he arrived on top of a steep, treeless, wind-blown hill, and, almost on the summit, he found a small cave, the ground of which was strewn with fine white sand, as soft to the feet as a velvet carpet. On one side of this grotto there was a fountain of icy cold water, and on the other, hewn in the rock as if by the hand of man, a kind of long niche, which looked as if it had been made on purpose for a bed. The Christian, who had decided to become a hermit, saw in this cave a sign of God's will and favour; therefore, he stopped there. For some time he lived on the roots of plants, berries and wild fruit, that grew at the foot of the hill; then he cultivated a patch of ground, and so he passed his time, praying, reading his holy Book, meditating over it, or tilling his bit of glebe.
Years and years passed—who knows how many?—and he had become an old man, with a long white beard reaching down to his knees, a brown, sun-burnt skin, and a face furrowed with wrinkles. Since the day he had left his country, he had never again seen a man, a woman or a child, nor, indeed, any other animal, except a few birds that flew over his head, or some small snakes that glided amongst the stones. So one evening, after he had said his lengthy prayers and committed his soul to God, he went to lie down on his couch of leaves and moss; but he could not sleep. He, for the first time, felt lonely, and, as it were, home-sick. He knew he would never behold again the face of any man, so he almost wished he had, at least, some tiny living creature to cherish. Sleep at last closed his eyes. In the morning, on awaking, he saw a little mouse frisking in the sand of his cave. The old hermit looked astonished at the pretty little thing, and he durst not move, but remained as quiet as a mouse, for fear the mouse would run away.
The animal, however, caught sight of him, and stood stock-still on its hind legs, looking at him. Thus they both remained for some seconds, staring at each other. Then the hermit understood at last that God, in His goodness, had heard his wish, and had sent him this little mouse to comfort him, and be a companion to him in his old age. And so it was.
Days, months, years passed, and the mouse never left the hermit, not even for a single instant; and the godly man grew always fonder of this friendly little beast. He played with it, patted it, and called it pet names; and at night, when he crept into his niche to sleep, he took the mouse with him.
One night, as he pressed the little animal to his breast, he felt his heart overflow with love for it, and in his unutterable fondness he begged the Almighty to change this dear little mouse into a girl; and lo, and behold! God granted his prayer, for, of course, he was a saintly man. The hermit pressed the girl to his heart, and then fell upon his knees and thanked the All-Merciful for His great goodness.
The girl grew up a beautiful maiden—tall, slender, and most graceful in her movements, with a soft skin, and twinkling, almost mischievous eyes.
Years passed. The hermit now had grown to be a very old man; and in his last years his spirit was troubled, and his heart was full of care. He knew that he had passed the time allotted to man here below, and he was loth to think that he would have to die and leave his daughter alone in the wilderness. Besides, she had reached marriageable age; and if it is no easy matter for a match-making mother to marry her daughter in a populous town, it was a difficult task to find a husband for her in that desert. Moreover, he did not exactly know how to broach the subject of matrimony to a girl who was so very ingenuous, and who thought that all the world was limited to the cave and the hill on which she lived. Still, he did not shrink from this duty; and, therefore, he told her what he had read in scientific books about the conjunctions of planets in the sky. Then he quoted the Scriptures, and said that it was not good for man to be alone, nor for woman either; that even widows should marry, if they cannot live in the holy state of celibacy.