The pious Anchorets received him with the most benevolent welcome: they gave full credit to his tale of persecuted innocence, and looked upon the virtuous sufferer as an angel conducted thither by the hand of Heaven, that he might comfort and sustain them under the infirmities of age, and might close their eyes, when death should draw nigh their stony couches. This last piece of service Luprian lost no time in rendering them. He imagined, that they possest concealed treasures of immense value, which would enable him to lead once more a life of luxury in some foreign country, could he but obtain the inheritance of his hosts. In consequence of this persuasion, the old hermits slept in the grave sooner, than nature had intended; and Luprian without an hour’s delay ransacked every corner of the cave. His expectations were cruelly disappointed. He found nothing more than the usual possessions of an Anchoret; cowls, scapularies, crosses, and a few relics of saints and martyrs. But of gold or jewels there appeared not the slightest vestige; and Luprian had the mortification to find, that he had committed one of the most horrible crimes ever perpetrated on earth, without deriving from it even the most insignificant advantage. Yet was it not its guilt, which made him lament the commission of this action; no, ’twas its having been committed without reward. His conscience was by no means of so delicate a texture, as to make him feel uncomfortable, while inhabiting the scene of this atrocious murder. On the contrary, he resolved on making this well-concealed retreat the theatre of fresh offences, and immediately employed himself in collecting a set of men, whose hearts were depraved, whose characters were blasted, and whose prospects in the world were ruined like his own. These he conducted to the mountain-valley, and became the founder of a band of free-booters, which had now existed above a hundred years, and which had brought inexpressible calamity on all the neighbouring country. The rich and the poor, the nobleman and the peasant, alike mourned over their ravaged fields, and plundered dwellings, their murdered children and dishonoured wives; and yet did the authors of all this mischief set punishment at defiance, protected by their secret caverns and their snow-clad impracticable rocks.