arth with its
chastisement, and it is through Judas that God saved the world! Yes,
Judas! without him no death and no Redemption!"

They pass out through the band of Circoncellions, clad in wolf-skin,
crowned with thorns, and carrying iron clubs.

"Crush the fruit! Attack the fountain-head! Drown the child! Plunder the
rich man who is happy, and who eats overmuch! Strike down the poor man
who casts an envious glance at the ass's saddle-cloth, the dog's meal,
the bird's nest, and who is grieved at not seeing others as miserable as
himself.

"As for us--the Saints--in order to hasten the end of the world, we
poison, burn, massacre. The only salvation is in martyrdom. We give
ourselves up to martyrdom. We take off with pincers the skin of our
heads; we spread our limbs under the ploughs; we cast ourselves into the
mouths of furnaces. Shame on baptism! Shame on the Eucharist! Shame on
marriage! Universal damnation!"

Then, throughout the basilica, there is a fresh accession of frenzy. The
Audians draw arrows against the Devil; the Collyridians fling blue veils
to the ceiling; the Ascitians prostrate themselves before a wineskin;
the Marcionites baptise a corpse with oil. Close beside Appelles, a
woman, the better to explain her idea, shows a round loaf of bread in a
bottle; another, surrounded by the Sampsians, distributes like a host
the dust of her sandals. On the bed of the Marcosians, strewn with
roses, two lovers embrace each other. The Circoncellions cut one
another's throats; the Velesians make a rattling sound; Bardesanes
sings; Carpocras dances; Maximilla and Priscilla utter loud groans; and
the false prophetess of Cappadocia, quite naked, resting on a lion and
brandishing three torches, yells forth the Terrible Invocation.

The pillars are poised like trunks of trees; the amulets round the necks
of the Heresiarchs have lines of flame crossing each other; the
constellations in the chapels move to and fro, and the walls recede
under the alternate motion of the crowd, in which every head is a wave
which leaps and roars.

Meanwhile, from the very depths of the uproar rises a song with bursts
of laughter, in which the name of Jesus recurs. These outbursts come
from the common people, who all clap their hands in order to keep time
with the music. In the midst of them is Arius, in the dress of a deacon:

"The fools who declaim against me pretend to explain the absurd; and, in
order to destroy them entirely, I hav