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122 Satan beat joyously. Here is God! exclaims the brood, murder, torture them! here is Christ! roar the others, and slay the adversaries. Does an eye from heaven behold? Do the stars know of us? will the lost, the nameless one after eternity find himself once more in his, by himself accursed creation, and will he not then send forth, epidemics, pestilences, famines, fiery flames, and floods of waters, together with earth-quakes and a thousand all-powerful deaths on white horses, in order to crush this his brood, to grind, to powder into nothing, who scandalously imagine that the sparks of his spirit dwell in them. He, He himself inspires them? Yea no future hell; we are it and live in it, prophecied from the ancient prophet's mouth. We dust of dust, we curse of curse!"

Now the prayer of the prophet seemed to operate with greater fervour, for the voice of Ravanel died away, he appeared to sink into slumber totally exhausted, and Lacoste said: "Oh that this pithy