So the man with the dead soul walked through rows of demons with whips
in their hands; but no arm was raised to strike, for he had sown his
evil well and the king did not frown on him.

Then one day a single whip of scorpions fell upon his shoulders.
Pain-racked he looked at the king and saw that his face was twisted
with agony: then he knew that somewhere an evil deed of his own had
been turned to good. And even while he looked the whips began to fall
mercilessly from all sides and the king, frantic with agony, cried
out:

"Tear aside the veil. Let him see."

In an instant the whips ceased to fall and the man with the dead soul
saw all the Earth before him--and understood. A generation had passed
since he had gone, but his keen eye sought and found his wealth. The
finger of God had touched it and behold good had sprung from it
everywhere. It was building temples to the mighty God where the poor
could worship; and the hated Cross met his eye wherever he looked,
dazzling his vision and blinding him with its light. Wherever the
Finger of God glided the good came forth; the hungry were nourished,
the naked clothed, the frozen warmed and the truth preached. Before
him was the good growing from his impotent evil every moment and
multiplying as it grew; and behind him he heard the howls of the
tortured demons and the impatient hisses of the whips that hungered
for his back.

Shuddering he closed his eyes, but a voice ringing on the air made him
open them again. The voice was strangely like his own, yet purified
and sweet with sincerity and goodness. It was singing the "Miserere,"