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it enters into the inmost recesses and withdraws into the depth.” These things he said. But I, having used my eloquence at that opportune moment and having spoken of the ways in which our spirits run down, but we conquer by turning back, and, having taken away his turmoil, I calmed his soul. And he said, "O sweetest heart, why did I not feast you in return, since you have entertained me with such words? How sweet a thing it is for a father and son to live together philosophically and to partake of common salt." "But you do not entertain an unwilling guest, O father. In no way, then, have I departed, even if you yourself did not invite me to your hospitality." The father smiled a little at my words and said: "I have heard from those who relate stories that there are some animals that receive their troubled offspring back into their natural wombs; I, for my part, would gladly place you in my own heart, tearing it open." And so, on that day, having dined together with my father, since the sun had long been sinking toward its setting, after embracing him with many kisses, I departed from the hermitage, leaving him cheerful. But I was not at all cheerful, wherefore it seemed good to me to go to my mother and use her as a medicine for the suffering of my soul. She then received me with great joy, as if I had been away on a journey, and persuaded me to rest there for the night. 19. But it was not yet "midnight" when someone knocked at the outer door, and the doorkeeper, recognizing who it was, came to my mother and me in distress; for the time was already calling her to the morning hymn. Approaching, then, she said—nodding toward me—"Your father, my most beautiful youth, having been suddenly struck down in the evening, is consumed by a raging fever." Immediately, then, I went to my father, and she followed "at my heels." So, upon entering the little house, we saw him literally being consumed by fire, afflicted with rapid breathing, and showing a distinct inflammation in his vitals. And when I gauged the movements of his artery with my fingers—for this art had long been my study—I was immediately at a loss. For the movement in that part had failed, so that it moved only slightly, or rather, fluttered like the movements of ants. "Dumbfounded and thunderstruck," therefore, I stood, not knowing whether to weep for him, or to console my mother, or to lament for myself. But he knew that I was troubled and, embracing me with his right arm, he said, "I, my child, am going the appointed way which the Word has ordained; but you, urge yourself not to lament and be a sufficient comfort to your mother." Then indeed, "after a short time," and "opening his eyes" suddenly and whispering something indistinctly, at the same time he let his eyelids fall over his eyes and breathed his last, commending his soul to God, but leaving me to the power of lamentation. For since none of the fellow ascetics was yet present, falling upon his breast and kissing his heart, I said, "O father," and this many times, and again I paused; for my breath was not collected. Then indeed, having collected myself and breathing a deep breath, I cried out again, "O father, where have you suddenly gone? How have you flown away, leaving your son? O sudden sundering, O bitter division! The echo of your words from before evening still resounds in my hearing; it still seems that we are philosophizing and discoursing about the soul. What was that arrow that suddenly wounded your soul? Who let fly that spear against your heart? Who poured that death-bearing poison into you? But I thought I was removing the arrow; perhaps I even reopened the wound of your dart, taking away its point; perhaps I smoothed your wound; but you seemed to have changed and you gave up your soul. Woe is me for those farewell words and for those parting kisses. And you perhaps, O father, the last

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ἐνδομυχεῖ καὶ πρὸς τὸ βάθος ὑπείσεισι». Ταῦτα μὲν ἐκεῖνος. ἐγὼ δὲ εἰς δέον τῇ εὐγλωττίᾳ τότε χρησάμενος καὶ τοὺς τρόπους εἰρηκὼς καθ' οὓς κατατρέχει μὲν ἡμῶν τὰ πνεύματα, ἡμεῖς δὲ νικῶμεν ἐπιστρεφόμενοι καί, τὸν τάραχον αὐτοῦ ἀφελών, κατέστησα τὴν ψυχήν. καί· «ὦ σπλάγχνον-ἔφησε-γλυκύτατον, τί δὲ οὐκ ἀντεφεστιάσω σε τοιούτοις με λόγοις ξενίσαντα; ὡς ἡδὺ δὲ καὶ τὸ χρῆμα πατὴρ καὶ υἱὸς φιλοσόφως συνδιαιτώμενοι καὶ κοινῶν ἁλῶν συμμετέχοντες». «ἀλλ' οὐχὶ μὴ βουλόμενον, ὧ πάτερ, ξενοδοχεῖς. ἀπηλλάγην δ' οὖν οὐδαμῶς, εἰ καὶ μὴ αὐτὸς ἐπὶ τὴν σὴν ξενίαν με παρεκάλεσας». βραχύ τι πρὸς τὸν λόγον παρεμειδίασεν ὁ πατὴρ καί· «εἰ μὲν εἰσί τινα- ἔφη -ζῶα τὰ ἔκγονα πάλιν τεταραγμένα καὶ τοῖς φυσικοῖς κόλποις ὑποδεχόμενα, ἱστορούντων ἀκήκοα· ἔγωγ' οὖν ἄν σε καὶ τοῖς σπλάγχνοις ἡδέως ἐνέθηκα ἀναρρήξας αὐτά». Τὴν ἡμέραν τοίνυν ἐκείνην κοινῇ συνεστιαθεὶς τῷ πατρί, ἐπειδὴ πρὸς καταφορὰν ἐκ πολλοῦ ὁ ἥλιος ἐγεγόνει πολλοῖς τοῦτον κατασπασάμενος ἀσπασμοῖς ἐκδὺς τοῦ ἀσκητηρίου ἀπηλλάγην, ἐκεῖνον μὲν φαιδρὸν ἐγκαταλιπών. αὐτὸς δ' οὐ πάνυ εὔθυμος ὤν, ὅθεν ἔδοξέ μοι ἀπιέναι πρὸς τὴν μητέρα κἀκείνῃ φαρμάκῳ πρὸς τὸ πάθος χρήσασθαι τῆς ψυχῆς. ἡ δέ με τότε ὥσπερ ἀπόδημον εἰσεδέξατό τε περιχαρῶς καὶ τῆς νυκτὸς ἐκεῖσε διαναπαύσασθαι πέπεικεν. 19. Ἀλλ' οὔπω «μέσαι νύκτες» καί τις ἐψόφει τὴν αὔλειον καὶ ἡ θυρωρὸς γνοῦσα ὅστις εἴη τεταραγμένη τῇ μητρὶ κἀμοὶ πρόσεισιν· ἤδη γὰρ πρὸς τὸν ὄρθριον ὕμνον ὁ καιρὸς ἐκείνην ἐκάλει. προσιοῦσα οὖν· «ὁ πατήρ σοι, κάλλιστόν μοι μειράκιον-πρὸς ἐμὲ νεύσασα-, ἑσπέρας ἀθρόον κατενεχθεὶς λάβρῳ θέρεται πυρετῷ». αὐτίκα τοίνυν ἐγώ τε πρὸς τὸν πατέρα ἐπεπορεύμην, κἀκείνη «κατὰ πόδα» εἵπετο. εἰσεληλυθότες οὖν τὸν οἰκίσκον ἑωράκειμεν αὐτὸν πυρὶ μὲν ἀτεχνῶς καταπιμπράμενον, ἄσθματι δὲ πυκνῷ συνεχόμενον καὶ φλεγμονὴν ἀκριβῶς ἐν τοῖς σπλάγχνοις ὑποδεικνύοντα. ὡς δὲ καὶ τοῖς δακτύλοις τὰς τῆς ἀρτηρίας κινήσεις ἐτεκμηράμην -ἐσπουδάζετο γάρ μοι μακρόθεν ἡ περὶ τοῦτο τέχνη- ἀπειρήκειν εὐθύς. ἐκλέλοιπε γὰρ τῷ μορίῳ ἡ κίνησις, ὥστε βραχύ τι κινεῖσθαι ἢ μᾶλλον κατὰ τὰς τῶν μυρμήκων κινήσεις κυμαίνεσθαι. «αὖος οὖν καὶ ἀπόπληκτος» εἱστήκειν οὐκ ἔχων πότερον ἐκεῖνον ἀποκλαύσασθαι ἢ τὴν μητέρα παραμυθήσασθαι ἢ ἐμαυτὸν ἀποδύρασθαι. ὁ δὲ καὶ ἐγνώκει με ταραττόμενον καὶ τῷ δεξιῷ περιλαβών με βραχίονι· «ἐγὼ μέν, ὦ τέκνον, ἄπειμι-ἔφη-τὴν τεταγμένην πορείαν καὶ ἣν ὁ Λόγος ἀφώρισε· σὺ δέ, ἀλλὰ καὶ σαυτῷ παρακέλευε μὴ θρηνεῖν καὶ τῇ μητρὶ ἀρκοῦσα παραμυθία γενοῦ». εἶτα δὴ βραχύν τινα «ἐπισχὼν χρόνον» καὶ «τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς διανοίξας» ἀθρόον καί τι ἀσαφῶς ὑποψιθυρίσας, ὁμοῦ τε τάς τε βλεφαρίδας ἀφῆκε τοῖς ὄμμασι καὶ ἐξεπεπνεύκει, τὴν μὲν ψυχὴν Θεῷ παραθείς, ἐμὲ δὲ εἰς θρήνων ἐξουσίαν ἀφείς. Ἐπειδὴ γὰρ οὔπω παρῆν οὐδεὶς τῶν συνασκησάντων, τῷ ἐκείνου στήθει ἐπιπεσὼν καὶ τὴν καρδίαν καταφιλῶν· «ὦ πάτερ» ἔλεγον, καὶ τοῦτο πολλάκις καὶ αὖθις ἐπεῖχον· οὐ γὰρ ἦν μοι τὸ πνεῦμα συνειλεγμένον. ἔπειτα δή, συλλέξας καὶ βύθιόν τι ἀσθμήνας· «ὦ πάτερ-αὖθις ἐβόων-, ποῦ ποτε ἀθρόως πεπόρευσαι; πῶς δὲ ἀπέπτης καταλιπὼν τὸν υἱόν; ὢ αἰφνιδίου διχοτομίας, ὢ πικρᾶς διαιρέσεως. ἔτι ἡ πρὸ τῆς ἑσπέρας τῶν σῶν λόγων ἠχὼ ἐναυλεῖ μοι τῇ ἀκοῇ, ἔτι δοκοῦμεν φιλοσοφεῖν καὶ περὶ ψυχῆς διαλέγεσθαι. τί ποτε ἦν ἐκεῖνο τὸ βέλος ὅ σου ἐξαπιναίως τὴν ψυχὴν ἐτραυμάτισε; τίς ἀφῆκε τὴν λόγχην ἐκείνην ἐπὶ τὰ σπλάγχνα; τίς τὸν θανατηφόρον ἐκεῖνον ἐνέχεέ σοι ἰόν; ἐγὼ δὲ ἐδόκουν τὸν ὀϊστὸν ὑφελεῖν, τάχα που καὶ ἀνέρρηξά σου τὴν ὠτειλὴν τοῦ βέλους, τὴν ἀκμὴν ἀφαιρούμενος, τάχα σου κατέξανα τὴν πληγήν· σὺ δὲ μεταβεβληκότι ἐῴκεις καὶ ἀνήνεγκας τὴν ψυχήν. ὤ μοι τῶν ἐξιτηρίων ἐκείνων ῥημάτων καὶ τῶν προπεμπτηρίων φιλημάτων. καὶ σὺ μὲν ἴσως, ὦ πάτερ, τὰς τελευταίας