Page:The Works of H G Wells Volume 11.pdf/36

 God gave no answer.

"But that reminds me," said Satan unabashed.

The great winged shapes drew nearer, for Satan is the celestial raconteur. He alone makes stories.

"There was a certain man in the land of Uz whose name was Job."

"We remember him."

"We had a wager of sorts," said Satan. "It was some time ago."

"The wager was never very distinct—and now that you remind me of it, there is no record of your paying."

"Did I lose or win? The issue was obscured by discussion. How those men did talk! You intervened. There was no decision."

"You lost, Satan," said a great Being of Light who bore a book. "The wager was whether Job would lose faith in God and curse him. He was afflicted in every way; and particularly by the conversation of his friends. But there remains an undying fire in man."

Satan rested his dark face on his hand, and looked down between his knees through the pellucid floor to that little eddying in the ether which makes our world. "Job," he said, "lives still."

Then after an interval: "The whole earth is now—Job."

Satan delights equally in statistics and in quoting scripture. He leaned back in his seat with an expression of quiet satisfaction. "Job," he said, in easy