For one moment his lips came together in a thin, cruel line, then he got up, laughing, stretching out his arms as if tired of the discussion. “If I were placed in a cell of the dimensions you mention I should burst the walls, even though they were of iron.” I looked at him as he began walking back and forwards through the room and did not doubt the strength of which he spoke. Then suddenly he lighted on the _Paradise Lost_ which I had thrown away. “Have you been reading that rot?” he asked carelessly. “Well, yes, and I’ve fallen into the error common to all people.” “That of liking Satan best,” he joined in, laughing. “Decidedly. But at every other line I find myself stopping to consider how a man of such ability as Milton could ever come to be so deluded in his ideas of God.” “He was like Solomon. His wives led away his heart. Three such were far too many for an ascetic. They helped to turn his brain. Yet it is strange,” he continued, smiling, “that he should come to form such a fine conception of the Devil and underrate the Godhead.” “He was prejudiced in his favour,” I replied. “The Devil’s favour?” “No. The Godhead’s.” “I see. It’s a bad thing to be prejudiced—it can get one into hobbles. Are you sleepy?” “By no means.” “Then suppose you come with me. We can spend the night in visiting some prisoners, for, like all my visits, this is of short duration.” Now visiting prisoners was of all things least pleasant to me. I remembered my terrible experience of the afternoon and also its results on myself. Moreover, I knew that I should find no relaxation afterwards from the misery it engendered. But I had no excuse beyond my own personal feelings, and such things were unrecognised here, so I followed him with a grim, stony feeling rising within me, caused by solitude and imprisonment. He passed his arm through mine. “It is really quite a pleasure to meet you once more,” he declared as we went towards the gloomy doorway. “Because though you may not think it, I miss you greatly on the earth.” “Can you find no one to fill my place?” I suggested drily. “No one. Absolutely no one. I look round and invite people in, but they won’t come.” “Have you the right of invitation?” “No. But I take it.” “Then they see through the deception.” “Fiddlesticks! They’re as blind as Milton.” We were now in the passage leading from the doorway to the cells. But I noticed when we came to the end of it a low doorway which had before escaped me. Plucritus opened it and we walked out into the moonlight. Never before had I been so impressed by the beauty of these grounds. Chilly winter moonlight it was, which brought with it a certain peace and quietness, even to me. We strolled along from path to path, and all was solitude and shadow as we went. At last we came to a bridge which spanned a large expanse of water. I had noticed this bridge before, and had often stood upon it, but in the middle was an iron gate, which had been always locked.