"We also are weary of the shame and pain of dwelling in so vile a
habitation. Continually we strive that the beams may break, and the
pillars crack, and the roof fall in upon us."
"Surely there is a curse upon me," groaned the Man. "There is no justice
in the Gods!"
Then the Souls tumultuously laughed in scorn,--even as the leaves of a
wood in the wind do chuckle all together. And they made answer to him:--
"As a fool thou liest! Did any save thyself make thy vile body? Was it
shapen--or misshapen--by any deeds or thoughts except thine own?"
"No deed or thought can I remember," returned the Man, "deserving that
which has come upon me."
"Remember!" laughed the Souls. "No--the folly was in other lives. But we
remember; and remembering, we hate."
"Ye are all one with me!" cried the Man,--"how can ye hate?"
"One with thee," mocked the Souls,--"as the wearer is one with his
garment!... How can we hate? As the fire that devours the wood from
which it is drawn by the fire-maker--even so we can hate."
"It is a cursed world!" cried the Man--"why did ye not guide me?"