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Updated: June 23, 2025
That day Father Hilarion blessed it three times; and it bore a cross upon its face which I thought might make it acceptable as if it were lettered with the name of Constantine. A boatman consented to take it for rowing me to thy landing. Behold! Thou hast my confession!"
But I seek one wiser than myself, and go through the woods in search of him, my master." And Hilarion said: "Tarry thou here, and thou shalt see, if I mistake not, him whom thou seekest." So the old man, whose name was Hieronymus, tarried in the forest and built himself a hut of stones.
And Father Hilarion might have grown wiser of his years! Perhaps he knew, though at a vast distance, that the need of the hour in Constantinople was not a new notable a bishop or a legate so much as a voice with power of persuasion to still the contentions with which her seven hills were then resounding.
The Alexandrian understood; he drew back and was silent, while Hilarion explained to the sick man that Paulus was guilty of grave sins, and that, until he had done full penance, he must remain excluded as a rotten sheep from the bishop's flock, as well as interdicted from waiting on a pious Christian.
Stranger still, it had now a significancy not then observed; and as he listened, he interpreted, and the fever of spirit left him. About an hour before noon, he arose from the bench like one refreshed by sleep, cool, thoughtful, capable. In the interval he had put off boyishness, and taken on manhood replete with a faculty for worldly thinking that would have alarmed Father Hilarion.
Hilarion lay on his bed, and kissed the couch, as if it were still warm. Antony's cell was only large enough to let a man lie down in it; and on the mountain top, reached by a difficult and winding stair, were two other cells of the same size, cut in the stony rock, to which he used to retire from the visitors and disciples, when they came to the garden.
There was a look of surprise another of uncertainty then an exclamation: "Hilarion! Not my Father Hilarion! He is but a sacred memory! He went away and died and yet this is his hand. I know it as I know my own." The monk essayed to remove the doubt. "Permit me," he said, then asked, "Is there not an island hereabouts called Prinkipo?" She gave him instant attention.
When at the door of the old Lavra upon the snow-bound shore of the White Lake, he bade Father Hilarion farewell and received his blessing, and the commission of an Evangel, the idea furthest from him was to signalize his arrival in Constantinople by dropping first thing into love.
Peter at Rome; and the unclean spirit cried out in him, "A few days since Hilarion, the servant of Christ, landed in Sicily, and no man knows him, and he thinks himself hid. I will go and betray him." And forthwith he took ship with his slaves, and came to Pachynum, and, by the leading of the devil, threw himself down before the old man's hut, and was cured.
And the first night that Hilarion slept in that house, which was fallen to ruin, only a piece of roof remaining, which he thatched with pine-branches, he heard voices singing in the air, as of children, both boys and maidens. But he closed his eyes and repeated a Paternoster, and turned over and slept. And again, another night, he heard voices, and knew the house to be haunted, and trembled.
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