The old man flared up. “You’d be wasting your time. A man who only listens and sighs and is afraid of women can’t do or understand anything. No, I’ll tell you the one to go to. It’s a bit far from here, beyond Ascalon, but he’s the best hermit and confessor there is. Dion is his name, and he’s called Dion Pugil — that means ‘the boxer,’ because he piles right into all the devils, and when somebody confesses his sins, my friend, Pugil doesn’t sigh and keep his counsel. He sounds off and gives it to the man straight from the shoulder. They say he actually beats some till they’re black and blue. He made one man kneel bare-kneed on the rocks all night long and on top of that ordered him to give forty pennies to the poor. There’s a hermit for you, my boy, he’ll make you sit up and take notice. When he looks at you, you’ll shake; his eyes go right through you. None of this sighing business. That man has the stuff. If a man can’t sleep or has bad dreams and visions, Pugil will put him on his feet again, let me tell you. I don’t say this on hearsay; I know because I’ve been to him myself. Yes I have — I may be a poor fool, but I betook myself to the hermit Dion, the man of God, God’s boxer. I went there in misery, nothing but filth and shame on my conscience, and I left clean and bright as the morning star, and that’s as true as my name is David. Remember what I tell you: the name is Dion, called Pugil. You go see him as soon as you can, and you’ll be amazed. Prefects, presbyters, and bishops have gone to him for advice.”
“Yes,” the younger man said, “next time I’m in that neighborhood I’ll consider it. But today is today and here is here, and since I’m here today and the hermit Josephus is located in these parts and I’ve heard so much good about him…”
“Good? What so commends this Famulus to you?”
“I like the way he doesn’t scold and make a fuss. I just like that, I tell you. I’m not a centurion and I’m not a bishop either; I’m just a nobody and I’m sort of timid myself. I couldn’t stand a lot of fire and brimstone. God knows, I don’t have anything against being treated gently — that’s just the way I am.”
“Treated gently — I like that! When you’ve confessed and done penance and taken your punishment and purged yourself, all right, maybe then it’s time to treat you gently. But not when you’re unclean and stand before your confessor and judge stinking like a jackal.”
“All right, all right. Not so loud — the others want to sleep.”
Suddenly the younger man chuckled. “By the way, I just remembered a funny story I heard about him.”
“About whom?”
“About the hermit Josephus. You see, after somebody’s told his story and confessed, the hermit blesses him and before he leaves gives him a kiss on the cheek or the brow.”
“Does he now? He certainly has peculiar habits.”
“And, you see, he’s so shy of women. They say that a harlot from the neighborhood once went to him in man’s clothing and he didn’t notice and listened to her lies, and when she was finished confessing he bowed to her and solemnly gave her a kiss.”
The old man burst into titters; the other hastily shushed him, and thereafter Joseph heard nothing more than half-suppressed laughter that went on for a while.
He looked up at the sky. The crescent moon hung thin and keen beyond the tops of the palm trees. He shivered in the cold of the night. It had been strange, like looking into a distorting mirror, listening to the camel drivers talking about him and the office which he had just abandoned. Strange but instructive. And so a harlot had played this joke on him. Well, that was not the worst, though it was bad enough. He lay for a long time pondering the conversation between the two men. And when, very late, he was at last able to fall asleep, it was because his meditations had not been fruitless. He had come to a conclusion, to a resolve, and with this new resolve fixed firmly in his heart he slept deeply until dawn.
His resolve was the very one that the younger of the two camel drivers had not taken. He had decided to take the older man’s advice and pay a visit to Dion, called Pugil, of whom he had heard for so many years and whose praises had been so emphatically sung this very night. That famous confessor, adviser, and judge of souls would surely have advice, judgment, punishment for him, would surely know the proper way for him. Josephus would go to him as a spokesman of God and willingly obey whatever course he prescribed.
He left while the two men were still asleep, and after a tiring tramp reached a spot which he knew was inhabited by pious brethren. From there he hoped he would be able to reach the usual caravan route to Ascalon.
