an find means to
ascend to the next circle, and is told to accompany the procession
which will soon pass the place. The speaker, although unable to raise
his head, confesses his arrogance while on earth so incensed his
fellow-creatures that they finally rose up against him and murdered
him. Stooping so as to catch a glimpse of the bent face, Dante
realizes he is talking to a miniature painter who claimed to be
without equal, and therefore has to do penance.

The noise
Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind,
That blows from diverse points, and shifts its name,
Shifting the point it blows from.

_Canto XII._ Journeying beside the bowed painter (who names some of
his fellow-sufferers), Dante's attention is directed by Virgil to the
pavement beneath his feet, where he sees carved Briareus, Nimrod,
Niobe, Arachne, Saul, etc.,--in short, all those who dared measure
themselves with the gods or who cherished overweening opinions of
their attainments. So absorbed is Dante in contemplation of these
subjects that he starts when told an angel is coming to meet them,
who, if entreated with sufficient humility, will doubtless help them
reach the next level.

The radiant-faced angel, robed in dazzling white, instead of waiting
to be implored to help the travellers, graciously points out steps
where the rocks are sundered by a cleft, and, when Dante obediently
climbs past him, a soft touch from his wings brushes away the P. which
stands for pride, and thus frees our poet of all trace of this heinous
sin. But it is only on reaching the top of the stairway that Dante
becomes aware of this fact.

_Canto XIII._ The second ledge of purgatory, which they have now
reached, is faced with plain gray stone, and Virgil leads his
companion a full mile along it ere they become aware of a flight of
invisible spirits, some of whom chant "They have no wine!" while the
others respond "Love ye those who have wrong'd you." These are those
who, having sinned through envy, can be freed only by the exercise of
charity. Then, bidding Dante gaze fixedly, Virgil points out this
shadowy host, clothed in sackcloth, sitting back against the rocks,
and Dante takes particular note of two figures supporting each other.
He next discovers that one and all of these victims have their eyelids
sewn so tightly together with wire that passage is left only for
streams of penitential tears.

When allowed to address them, Dante, hoping