thatParadise lay on a ring-mountain, which encircled a wide chasm, and itwas at the bottom of this chasm that the souls of the sinful had theirabode. He saw how the angel sank and sank a long while without reachingthe depths. He became absolutely terrified because it was such a longdistance down there.

  "May he only come up again with my mother!" said he.

  Our Lord only looked at Saint Peter with great sorrowful eyes. "There isno weight too heavy for my angel to carry," said He.

  It was so far down to the nether regions that no ray of sunlight couldpenetrate thither: there darkness reigned. But it was as if the angel inhis flight must have brought with him a little clearness and light, sothat it was possible for Saint Peter to see how it looked down there.

  It was an endless, black rock-desert. Sharp, pointed rocks covered theentire foundation. There was not a green blade, not a tree, not a signof life.

  But all over, on the sharp rocks, were condemned souls. They hung overthe edges, whither they had clambered that they might swing themselvesup from the ravine; and when they saw that they could get nowhere, theyremained up there, petrified with anguish.

  Saint Peter saw some of them sit or lie with arms extended in ceaselesslonging, and with eyes fixedly turned upwards. Others had covered theirfaces with their hands, as if they would shut out the hopeless horroraround them. They were all rigid; there was not one among them who hadthe power to move. Some lay in the water-pools, perfectly still, withouttrying to rise from them.

  But the most dreadful thing of all was--there was such a great throng ofthe lost. It was as though the bottom of the ravine were made up ofnothing but bodies and heads.

  And Saint Peter was struck with a new fear. "You shall see that he willnot find her," said he to our Lord.

  Once more our Lord looked at him with the same grieved expression. Heknew of course that Saint Peter did not need to be uneasy about theangel.

  But to Saint Peter it looked all the while as if the angel could notfind his mother in that great company of lost souls. He spread his wingsand flew back and forth over the nether regions, while he sought her.

  Suddenly one of the poor lost creatures caught a glimpse of the angel,and he sprang up and stretched his arms towards him and cried: "Take mewith you! Take me with you!"

  Then, all at once, the whole throng was alive. All the millions uponmillions who languished in hell, roused themselves that instant, andraised their arms and cried to the angel that he should take them withhim to the blessed Paradise.

  Their shrieks were heard all the way up to our Lord and Saint Peter,whose hearts throbbed with anguish as they heard.

  The angel swayed high above the condemned; but as he traveled back andforth, to find the one whom he sought, they all rushed after him, sothat it looked as though they had been swept on by a whirlwind.

  At last the angel caught sight of the one he was to take with him. Hefolded his wings over his back and shot down like a streak of lightning,and the astonished Saint Peter gave a cry of joy when he saw the angelplace an arm around his mother and lift her up.

  "Blessed be thou that bringest my mother to me!" said he.

  Our Lord laid His hand gently on Saint Peter's shoulder, as if He wouldwarn him not to abandon himself to joy too soon.

  But Saint Peter was ready to weep for joy, because his mother was saved.He could not understand that anything further would have the power topart them. And his joy increased when he saw that, quick as the angelhad been when he had lifted her up, still several of the lost souls hadsucceeded in attaching themselves to her who was to be saved, in orderthat they, too, might be borne to Paradise with her.

  There must have been a dozen who clung to the old woman, and Saint Peterthought it was a great honor for his mother to help so many poorunfortunate beings out of perdition.

  Nor did the angel do aught to hinder them. He seemed not at all troubledwith his burden, but rose and rose, and moved his wings with no moreeffort than if he were carrying a little dead birdling to heaven.

  But then Saint Peter saw that his mother began to free herself from thelost souls that had clung to her. She gripped their hands and loosenedtheir hold, so that one after another tumbled down into hell.

  Saint Peter could hear how they begged and implored her; but the oldwoman did not desire that any one but herself should be saved. She freedherself from more and more of them, and let them fall down into misery.And as they fell, all space was filled with their lamentations andcurses.

  Then Saint Peter begged and implored his mother to show some compassion,but she would not listen, and kept right on as before.

  And Saint Peter saw how the angel flew slower and slower, the lighterhis burden became. Such fear took hold of Saint Peter that his legsshook, and he was forced to drop on his knees.

  Finally, there was only one condemned soul who still clung to St.Peter's mother. This was a young woman who hung on her neck and beggedand cried in her ear that she would let her go along with her to theblessed Paradise.

  The angel with his burden had already come so far that Saint Peterstretched out his arms to receive his mother. He thought that the angelhad to make only two or three wing-strokes more to reach the mountain.

  Then, all of a sudden, the angel held his wings perfectly still, and hiscountenance became dark as night.

  For now the old woman had stretched her hands back of her and grippedthe arms of the young woman who hung about her neck, and she clutchedand tore until she succeeded in separating the clasped hands, so thatshe was free from this last one also.

  When the condemned one fell the angel sank several fathoms lower, and itappeared as though he had not the strength to lift his wings again.

  He looked down upon the old woman with a deep, sorrowful glance; hishold around her waist loosened, and he let her fall, as if she were tooheavy a burden for him, now that she was alone.

  Thereupon he swung himself with a single stroke up into Paradise.

  But Saint Peter lay for a long while in the same place, and sobbed, andour Lord stood silent beside him.

  "Saint Peter," said our Lord at last, "I never thought that you wouldweep like this after you had reached Paradise."

  Then God's old servant raised his head and answered: "What kind of aParadise is this, where I can hear the moans of my dearest ones, and seethe sufferings of my fellow men!"

  The face of our Lord became o'ercast by the deepest sorrow. "What did Idesire more than to prepare a Paradise for all, of nothing but light andhappiness?" He said. "Do you not understand that it was because of thisI went down among men and taught them to love their neighbors asthemselves? For as long as they do this not, there will be no refuge inheaven or on earth where pain and sorrow cannot reach them."

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  The Sacred Flame]

  THE SACRED FLAME

  I

  A great many years ago, when the city of Florence had only just beenmade a republic, a man lived there named Raniero di Raniero. He was theson of an armorer, and had learned his father's trade, but he did notcare much to pursue it.

  This Raniero was the strongest of men. It was said of him that he bore aheavy iron armor as lightly as others wear a silk shirt. He was still ayoung man, but already he had given many proofs of his strength. Once hewas in a house where grain was stored in the loft. Too much grain hadbeen heaped there; and while Raniero was in the house one of the loftbeams broke down, and the whole roof was about to fall in. He raised hisarms and held the roof up until the people managed to fetch beams andpoles to prop it.

  It was also said of Raniero that he was the bravest man that had everlived in Florence, and that he could never get enough of fighting. Assoon as he heard any noise in the street, he rushed out from theworkshop, in hopes that a fight had arisen in which he mightparticipate. If he could only distinguish himself, he fought just asreadily with humble peasants as with armored horsemen. He
rushed into afight like a lunatic, without counting his opponents.

  Florence was not very powerful in his time. The people were mostly woolspinners and cloth weavers, and these asked nothing better than to beallowed to perform their tasks in peace. Sturdy men were plentiful, butthey were not quarrelsome, and they were proud of the fact that in theircity better order prevailed than elsewhere. Raniero often grumbledbecause he was not born in a country where there was a king who gatheredaround him valiant men, and declared that in such an event he would haveattained great honor and renown.

  Raniero was loud-mouthed and boastful; cruel to animals, harsh towardhis wife, and not good for any one to live with. He would have beenhandsome if he had not had several deep scars across his face whichdisfigured him. He was quick to jump at conclusions, and quick to act,though his way was often violent.

  Raniero was married to Francesca, who was the daughter of Jacopo degliUberti, a wise and influential man. Jacopo had not been very anxious togive his daughter to such a bully as Raniero,