“Come you here, you big man!” said Catice to Maskull. Maskull advanced a step closer. “Do you follow Spadevil in his new faith?” “As far as death,” exclaimed Maskull. Catice picked up a flint. “With this stone I strike out one of your two probes. When you have but one, you will see with me, and you will recollect with Spadevil. Choose you then the superior faith, and I shall obey your choice.” “Endure this little pain, Maskull, for the sake of future men,” said Spadevil. “The pain is nothing,” replied Maskull, “but I fear the result.” “Permit me, although I am only a woman, to take his place, Catice,” said Tydomin, stretching out her hand. He struck at it violently with the flint, and gashed it from wrist to thumb; the pale carmine blood spouted up. “What brings this kiss-lover to Sant?” he said. “How does she presume to make the rules of life for the sons of Hator?” She bit her lip, and stepped back. “Well then, Maskull, accept! I certainly should not have played false to Spadevil; but you hardly can.” “If he bids me, I must do it,” said Maskull. “But who knows what will come of it?” Spadevil spoke. “Of all the descendants of Hator, Catice is the most wholehearted and sincere. He will trample my truth underfoot, thinking me a demon sent by Shaping, to destroy the work of this land. But a seed will escape, and my blood and yours, Tydomin, will wash it. Then men will know that my destroying evil is their greatest good. But none here will live to see that.” Maskull now went quite close to Catice, and offered his head. Catice raised his hand, and after holding the flint poised for a moment, brought it down with adroitness and force upon the left-hand probe. Maskull cried out with the pain. The blood streamed down, and the function of the organ was destroyed. There was a pause, while he walked to and fro, trying to staunch the blood. “What now do you feel, Maskull? What do you see?” inquired Tydomin anxiously. He stopped, and stared hard at her. “I now see straight,” he said slowly. “What does that mean?” He continued to wipe the blood from his forehead. He looked troubled. “Henceforward, as long as I live, I shall fight with my nature, and refuse to feel pleasure. And I advise you to do the same.” Spadevil gazed at him sternly. “Do you renounce my teaching?” Maskull, however, returned the gaze without dismay. Spadevil’s image- like clearness of form had departed for him; his frowning face he knew to be the deceptive portico of a weak and confused intellect. “It is false.” “Is it false to sacrifice oneself for another?” demanded Tydomin. “I can’t argue as yet,” said Maskull. “At this moment the world with its sweetness seems to me a sort of charnel house. I feel a loathing for everything in it, including myself. I know no more.” “Is there no duty?” asked Spadevil, in a harsh tone. “It appears to me but a cloak under which we share the pleasure of other people.”