Jesus smiled as he heard this quaint wish, and, bowing his fair head, said: "It shall be done as thou wishest. Hast thou more still to ask? Speak freely, for thou seest that I grant thee all that thou hast wished for."
"My dearly loved Lord, I have a wooden chair, on which my friends sit when they come sometimes at night to talk with me. Grant me that whoever rests on it may not be able to rise, and must remain there as long as I shall please."
And Jesus approved again, because he loved this guileless old man, who was so simple of heart and made such modest wishes. St. Peter then thanked him, and went forth, followed by his twelve companions, among whom Jesus loved to conceal himself.
Years passed by one after the other. One century passed, then another, until finally the last day of the last year arrived, and the venerable Philomen saw the grim traveller Death enter his cabin, who said to him:
"Come along, old man! Thou hast eluded me this long time—thanks to an especial favor. Thou hast reached the years of Mathusale. If every one lived as thou hast, I would have no work on earth. Come along, quick. Regulate thy affairs, bid farewell to thy garden, because, with the setting sun, I lead thee forth with me."
"O my good dame! if you would but pity me! Ah! yes, if you would have some pity, you would let me live some few days more—only one day, then. It is so good to live!"
"No, nothing; not one moment more," replied the sinister guest in a harsh and dry voice.
"At least, then, let me once more eat of the fruit of my fig-tree. I have loved them so well; it will be a last consolation to me. But I am too weak to shake the tree, and too old to reach those highest branches. Do you go up, and gather me that fig up there; it is so thoroughly ripened by our eastern sun."
"Most willingly. See, old man, I will show thee that Death is not as surly as 'tis said she is."