mind and use up every faculty of your being. He is courage, he is adventure, he is the King, he fights for you and with you against death...."
"And he is not infinite? He is not the Creator?" asked the bishop.
"So far as you are concerned, no," said the Angel.
"So far as I am concerned?"
"What have you to do with creation?"
And at that question it seemed that a great hand swept carelessly across the blackness of the farther sky, and smeared it with stars and suns and shining nebulæ as a brush might smear dry paint across a canvas.
The bishop stared in front of him. Then slowly he bowed his head, and covered his face with his hands.
"And I have been in orders," he murmured; "I have been teaching people the only orthodox and perfect truth about these things for seven and twenty years."
And suddenly he was back in his gaiters and his apron and his shovel hat, a little black figure exceedingly small in a very great space....
§ 10
It was a very great space indeed because it was all space, and the roof was the ebony of limitless space from which the stars swung flaming, held by invisible ties, and the soil beneath his feet was a dust of atoms and the
