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Updated: May 24, 2025
And Polykarp, whose heart was nevertheless so full of love, he no doubt thought like his mother, and she pictured him as she had frequently seen him following his parents by the side of his sister Marthana often hand in hand with her as they went to church.
She could not indeed bring herself to believe in Sirona's guilt at all, for she was heartily well disposed towards her; besides though it, no doubt, was not right her motherly vanity inclined her to believe that if the handsome young woman had indeed sinned, she would have preferred her fine tall Polykarp whose roses and flaming glances she blamed in all sincerity to this shaggy, wild-looking graybeard.
Come now to your father." Dorothea went out past Polykarp and her daughter. The former held his sister back by the hand and asked "Was not Sirona with you?" The sculptor tried to appear quite indifferent, but he blushed as he spoke; Marthana observed this and replied not without a roguish glance: "She did show us her pretty face; but important business called her away."
Polykarp is the very image of him, as every one says, and now, looking at the father, and recalling to my mind how the boy looked when he told me how he could not refrain from making Sirona's portrait, I must say that I never saw such a likeness in the whole course of my life." He bid her a friendly good night, and extinguished the lamp.
Firmly resolved to carry out her threat she stepped towards the figure, but Polykarp placed himself in her way, raising his arm imploringly to defend it, and saying, "Not to-day not yet, mother! I will cover it up, and will not look at it again till to-morrow, but once only once I must see it again by sunlight." "So that to-morrow the old madness may revive in you!" cried Dorothea.
You men understand better how to prevent injustice than we do, and that you have once more proved to me, but, in carrying justice out, you are not our superiors. The Gauls may remain in our house, and do you take Polykarp severely to task, but in the first instance as his friend. Or would it not be better if you left it to me?
"Yet an hour," thought the anchorite, "and the mother will have her son again, yet a week and Polykarp will rise from his bed, yet a year and he will remember nothing of yesterday but a scar and perhaps a kiss that he pressed on the Gaulish woman's rosy lips. I shall find it harder to forget.
In a moment she had a basin at hand, and was carefully bathing the wounds in Sirona's feet; while she was wrapping the injured foot in strips of linen Dorothea came up to them. "I would," she said, "that Polykarp were only here now, this roll would suffice to bind you both."
She contemplated her situation clearly and calmly, and quite decided that she would neither quit the cave, nor entrust herself to the anchorite, till she had once more seen and spoken to Polykarp.
Polykarp had ridden by on his father's fine horse, had greeted her as he passed, and had dropped a rose on the roadway. Half an hour later the old black slave came to Sirona, who was throwing the shuttle through the warp with a skilful hand. "Mistress," cried the negress with a hideous grin; the lonely woman paused in her work, and as she looked up enquiringly the old woman gave her a rose.
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