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“And out of good still to find means of evil.”—Milton.

Hell.‘ a vague remaining corner of the Primazval Darkness. SATAN alone. His figure becomes gradually visible, outlined against the blank blackness by the dim grey light which emanates from it, or more properly, of which it consists. He is seated at one end of a long Empire sofa, very much in the pose of one of Michelangelo’s Medici Dukes, resting one arm on his knee and his chin on his hand, deep in weary and mysterious meditation.

A brief silence, during which SATAN’s figure becomes, while remaining dim and disembodied, a little more visible, showing that he is dressed very much like that Michelangelo statue. Shadowy wings seem folded behind him. Knocking is heard, and a strange bark as of several wolves, three different notes making a kind of chord.

SATAN. Another bore ! This endless interviewing of silly human Passions is enough to spoil the pleasure of my great coming performance, my Ballet of the Nations. . . . I thought I had given instructions to all my personnel, and might enjoy a half hour of solitude and silence, for Satan though lonely, is never let alone. Welll Let Cerberus detain them at my doors.

The barking approaches, and with it is at length heard the voice, a fine rolling contralto, of CLIO, Muse of History.

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