The Spectacles of the Student now arose in righteous indignation, pointed a finger of contempt at the Vest with the Silver Horseshoes and cried: "Do not tell me that you merely wish to burn a heretic to make news for your paper. I know why you are a fundamentalist. You have a monopoly on the oil!" "Young man, you betray your ignorance," spake the Clerical Collar. "The church has its own oil reserves." "But we should save the oil to pour on troubled waters," suggested the Threadbare Coat; "and that we could do if we had an obese heretic who would burn in his own fat." The Vest with the Silver Horseshoes became self-conscious. "There is no necessity of my being the martyr," he said. "I am already known to the masses. Moreover a heretic, to burn brilliantly, must have ideas, not mere fat." A look of great fear now came into the Spectacles of the Student, who cried out: "You all assume because you see a light in my attic that I am burning the midnight candle at both ends in search of ideas; but I tell you it is the light of faith that shines from my window." "What use is a false faith?" retorted the Clerical Collar. "I know that my faith alone is the true faith, because my mother told me it was so. But I will reveal the heretic to you." And he pointed an accusing finger at the Venerable Beard. "If you have no respect for my grey hairs," wailed the accused, "I will pluck them out." And he seized his beard and tore it from his face. "Do not think, brother," replied the Clerical Collar, "that by doing penance with self-torture, you can avoid the stake. Moreover you should feel honored at my charge, for I do not accuse you of any petty heresy, such as doubting that the eclipse of our moon is for the purpose of hiding the angels at their baths. I accuse you of the _Heresis Maximus_, that you doubt the virgin father!" "Why, how absurd!" remarked Gud naively. "There never was one to doubt." No sooner were these words out of the mouth of Gud than the six characters in search of a heretic pounced in frenzied joy upon him. Binding him with chains of iron and fetters of brass, they dragged him forth to the heretical pyre, to which the Vest of the Silver Horseshoes applied the torch, while the presses hummed with the news of the burning. But as the flames licked hot about the feet of Gud, he slipped his chains; and blazing with ethereal fire that dulled the smoke of intolerance and the smudge of inquisition, Gud, the martyr, arose in a flame of splendor. And using the stars as stepping stones, he strode across the heavens to the place where he was going--for he had an assignation there. Chapter XLVIII