"We also are weary of the shame and pain of dwelling in so vile a habitation. Continually we strive that the beams may break, and the pillars crack, and the roof fall in upon us."
"Surely there is a curse upon me," groaned the Man. "There is no justice in the Gods!"
Then the Souls tumultuously laughed in scorn,—even as the leaves of a wood in the wind do chuckle all together. And they made answer to him:—
"As a fool thou liest! Did any save thyself make thy vile body? Was it shapen—or misshapen—by any deeds or thoughts except thine own?"
"No deed or thought can I remember," returned the Man, "deserving that which has come upon me."
"Remember!" laughed the Souls. "No—the folly was in other lives. But we remember; and remembering, we hate."
"Ye are all one with me!" cried the Man,—"how can ye hate?"
"One with thee," mocked the Souls,—"as the wearer is one with his garment!... How can we hate? As the fire that devours the wood from which it is drawn by the fire-maker—even so we can hate."
"It is a cursed world!" cried the Man—"why did ye not guide me?"
The Souls replied to him:—