able through the medium of the senses alone. When God
manifests himself as the wisdom of the world, we call him 'the Word,'
'He, who covers his limbs with names,' as the sacred Text expresses
itself, is the power which gives to things their distinctive forms; the
scarabaeus, 'which enters life as its own son' reminds us of the ever
self-renewing creative power which causes you to call our merciful and
benevolent God a monster, but which you can deny as little as you can the
happy choice of the type; for, as you know, there are only male scarabei,
and this animal reproduces itself."

Nebsecht smiled. "If all the doctrines of the mysteries," he said, "have
no more truth than this happily chosen image, they are in a bad way.
These beetles have for years been my friends and companions. I know their
family life, and I can assure you that there are males and females
amongst them as amongst cats, apes, and human beings. Your 'good God' I
do not know, and what I least comprehend in thinking it over quietly is
the circumstance that you distinguish a good and evil principle in the
world. If the All is indeed God, if God as the scriptures teach, is
goodness, and if besides him is nothing at all, where is a place to be
found for evil?"

"You talk like a school-boy," said Pentaur indignantly. "All that is, is
good and reasonable in itself, but the infinite One, who prescribes his
own laws and his own paths, grants to the finite its continuance through
continual renewal, and in the changing forms of the finite progresses for
evermore. What we call evil, darkness, wickedness, is in itself divine,
good, reasonable, and clear; but it appears in another light to our
clouded minds, because we perceive the way only and not the goal, the
details only, and not the whole. Even so, superficial listeners blame the
music, in which a discord is heard, which the harper has only evoked from
the strings that his hearers may more deeply feel the purity of the
succeeding harmony; even so, a fool blames the painter who has colored
his board with black, and does not wait for the completion of the picture
which shall be thrown into clearer relief by the dark background; even
so, a child chides the noble tree, whose fruit rots, that a new life may
spring up from its kernel. Apparent evil is but an antechamber to higher
bliss, as every sunset is but veiled by night, and will soon show itself
again as the red dawn of a new day."

"How convincing all that