In a waste and desolate place of the Eleusinian wood, aloof alike from highway and byway, there stood a little shrine, with a little hut hard by it. The shrine was rudely shaped of heavy stones, piled one upon another with scant skill but with great pains, evidently the handiwork of an untrained but persistent artificer. All day the shrine enclosed a goodly image in wrought silver of our Lord upon the tree, the which image was always carried reverently at nightfall within the shelter of the hut. This hut was the habitation of an anchorite who had dwelled there for many years in little less than absolute solitude, and the place where he abode so lonely was reputed of great sanctity. The travellers were rare who passed that way by mischance, for it neighbored no pathway leading directly anywhere, and was far from the beaten path of trade or travel or use. But such as, passing, paused and prayed before the shrine that sheltered the silver image were wont to aver that they renewed their journey with a strange exaltation of the spirit and exhilaration of the flesh. The beauty and the value of the image had, according to country-side gossip, on more than one occasion tempted the cupidity of thieves, but each essay to steal the sacred emblem had resulted in the discomfiture of the would-be plunderers. For on each occasion the hermit, whom the robbers hoped to take unawares abed and asleep, issued from his dwelling as the enemies came creeping up, and made such strange manifestations of physical strength and spiritual influence as effectually scared the sacrilegious rascals into flight. Now there was no thief in Athens bold enough to renew the enterprise, and the holy man was left to his loneliness, while weeks and even months passed without a living human creature passing by his hut. This loneliness seemed to be to the liking of the ancient man. No one knew who the hermit was, and those few who ever had speech with him and sought to question him gained little by their pains. Even Duke Baldwin fared no better than the rest. For Duke Baldwin once rode that way by chance, a-hawking on a summer day, and some one of his company telling him of the recluse, the duke condescended to halt for a moment and hold speech with the holy man. But he found that his questions won him answers unsatisfactory and enigmatical, and that even the pompous announcement of his title and state had no more effect than to bring a faint smile to the thin lips of the hermit. So Duke Baldwin rode away in something of a huff, and spoke severely of recluses for some time afterwards.