" "Ah!" said the devil, "it matters not that we tell you the
hateful truth here; for there is no fear of your returning hence now to
carry tales."
Lower down I could see a deep, valley whence arose the bluish glare of
what seemed to be a countless number of enormous, burning mounds; and
after drawing nigh, I knew by their howling that they were men piled
mountains high with terrible flames crackling through them. "That
hollow," said the Angel, "is the abode of those who after committing some
heinous deeds, exclaim: 'Well, I am not the first--I have plenty of
companions,' and thus thou see'st they have plenty, to verify their words
and add to their affliction." Opposite this was a large cellar where I
saw men tortured just as withes are twisted or wet sheets wrung. "Who,
prithee, are these?" asked I. "They are the Mockers," said he, "and the
devils from pure derision essay to find whether they can be twisted as
pliantly as their tales." A little below, but scarcely visible, was
another gloomy dungeon-cell, wherein was what had once been men, but now
with the faces of wolf-hounds, up to their lips in a morass, madly
howling blasphemy and lies as often as they got their tongues clear of
the mire.
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