h heavy steps the ramparts of the Holy Mountain, and, letting
the gaze of their bovine eyes wander over the glittering clouds of
their Lord, strove to place the divine batteries in position. After
inspecting the defences, they swore to the Most High that all was in
readiness. They took counsel together as to the plan they should follow.
Michael was for the offensive. He, as a consummate soldier, said it was
the supreme law. Attack, or be attacked,--there was no middle course.

"Moreover," he added, "the offensive attitude is particularly suitable
to the ardour of the Thrones and Dominations."

Beyond that, it was impossible to obtain a word from the valiant chief,
and this silence seemed the mark of a genius sure of himself.

As soon as the approach of the enemy was announced, Michael sent forth
three armies to meet them, commanded by the archangels Uriel, Raphael,
and Gabriel. Standards, displaying all the colours of the Orient, were
unfurled above the ethereal plains, and the thunders rolled over the
starry floors. For three days and three nights was the lot of the
terrible and adorable armies unknown on the Mountain of God. Towards
dawn on the fourth day news came, but it was vague and confused. There
were rumours of indecisive victories; of the triumph now of this side,
now of that. There came reports of glorious deeds which were dissipated
in a few hours.

The thunderbolts of Raphael, hurled against the rebels, had, it was
said, consumed entire squadrons. The troops commanded by the impure Zita
were thought to have been swallowed up in the whirlwind of a tempest of
fire. It was believed that the savage Istar had been flung headlong into
the gulf of perdition so suddenly that the blasphemies begun in his
mouth had been forced backwards with explosive results. It was popularly
supposed that Satan, laden with chains of adamant, had been plunged once
again into the abyss. Meanwhile, the commanders of the three armies had
sent no messages. Mutterings and murmurs, mingling with the rumours of
glory, gave rise to fears of an indecisive battle, a precipitate
retreat. Insolent voices gave out that a spirit of the lowest category,
a guardian angel, the insignificant Arcade, had checked and routed the
dazzling host of the three great archangels.

There were also rumours of wholesale defection in the Seventh Heaven,
where rebellion had broken out before the beginning of Time, and some
had even seen black clouds of impious