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I had no angels。 I had seen Filippo's because of the power the demons had given me； and because of something else。 Filippo's angels argued so much with each other！ That's how I had seen them。 Some words came to me。
They came back to me from Aquinas； or was it Augustine？ I'd read so much of both to learn my Latin； and their endless excursuses had so delighted me。 The demons are full of passion。 But angels are not。
But those two angels had such spirit。 That's why they'd cut through the veil。
I pushed back the covers and set my bare feet on the stone floor。 It was cool； and pleasing； because the room； having received the sun all day； was still warm。
No drafts swept the polished and immaculate floor。
I stood before the wall painting。 I wasn't dizzy or sick； or like to fall。 I was myself again。
What an innocent and untroubled soul Fra Giovanni must have been。 All his figures were devoid of malice。 I could see the figure of Christ seated before a mountain； round gold halo decorated with the red arms and top of a cross。 Beside him stood ministering angels。 One held bread for him； and the other； whose figure was cut off by the door that was cut into the wall； this other angel； whose wingtips were barely visible； carried wine and meat。
Above； on the mountain； I saw Christ also。 It was a painting of different incidents； in sequence； and above； Christ was standing in His same smooth and multiwrinkled pink robes； but here He was agitated； as agitated as Fra Giovanni could make Him； and Christ had lifted His left hand； as if in wrath。 The figure who fled from Him was the Devil！ It was a horrid creature with the webbed wings I thought I'd glimpsed earlier； and it had hideous webbed feet。 It had dewclaws on its webbed feet。 Sour…faced and in a dirty gray robe； it fled from Christ； who stood firm in the Desert； refusing to be tempted； and； only after this confrontation； then had the ministering angels e； and had Christ taken His place with His hands clasped。
I sucked in my breath in terror as I beheld this image of the demon。 But a great rush of fort passed through me； causing my hair to tingle at its roots； causing my feet to tingle against the polished floor。 I had routed the demons； I had refused their gift of immortality。 I had refused it。 Even faced with the cross！
I retched。 The pain caught me as if I'd been kicked in the stomach。 I turned。 The basin was there； clean and polished； sitting on the floor。 I dropped to my knees and heaved up more of their syrupy filth。 Was there no water？
I looked around。 There stood the pitcher and the cup。 The cup was full and I spilt some of it as I put it to my lips； but it tasted thin and rancid and awful。 I threw down the cup。
〃You've poisoned me for natural things； you monsters。 You will not win！〃
My hands trembling； I picked up the cup； filled it once more and tried again to drink。 But it tasted unnatural。 To what can I pare it？ It was not foul like urine； it was like water that is full of minerals and metal and will leave a chalk on you and choke you。 It was bad！
I put it aside。 Very well then。 Time to study。 Time to take up the candles； which I now did。
I went out of the cell。 The hall was empty and glowing in the pale light that came from tiny windows over the low…ceilinged cells。
I turned to my right and approached the doors of the library。 They were unlocked。
I entered with my candelabra。 Once again； the tranquillity of Michelozzo's design brought a warmth to me； a faith in all things； a trust。 Two rows of arches and Ionic columns moved down the center of the room to make a broad aisle to the far distant door； and on either side were the study tables； and all along the far walls were racks and racks of codices and scrolls。
Across the herringbone stones of the floor I walked barefoot； lifting the candle higher so that the light would fill up the vaulted ceiling； so happy to be here alone。
Windows on either side let in shafts of pale illumination through the overwhelming clutter of shelves； but how divine and restful were the high ceilings。 How boldly he had done it； made a basilica of a library。
How could I have known； child that I was then； that this style would be imitated all over my beloved Italy？ Oh； there were so many wondrous things then for the living and for all time。
And I？ What am I？ Do I live？ Or am I walking always in death； forever in love with time？
I stood still with my candles。 How my eyes loved the moonlighted splendor。 How I craved to stand here forever； dreaming； near to things of the mind； and things of the soul； and far away in memory from the wretched enchained town on its cursed mountain and the castle nearby； which at this very moment probably gave forth its ghastly； ugly light。
Could I discern the order of this wealth of books？
The very cataloger of this library； the very monk who had done the work here； the very scholar； was now the Pope of all Christendom； Nicholas V。
I moved along the shelves to my right； holding high my candles。 Would it be alphabetical？ I thought of Aquinas； for I knew him more freely； but it was St。 Augustine whom I found。 And I had always loved Augustine； loved his colorful style and his eccentricities； and the dramatic manner in which he wrote。
〃Oh； you wrote more about demons； you are better！〃 I said。
The City of God！ I saw it； copy after copy。 There were a score of codices of this very masterpiece； not to mention all of the other work of this great saint； his Confessions； which had gripped me as much as a Roman drama； and so much more。 Some of these books were ancient； made of big sloppy parchment； others were extravagantly bound； some almost simple and very new。
In charity and consideration； I must take the most sturdy of these； even though there might be errors； and God only knew how hard monks worked to avoid errors。 I knew which volume I wanted。 I knew the volume on demons； because I had thought it so very fascinating and funny and so much poppycock。 Oh； what a fool I'd been。
I took down the hefty fat volume； number nine of the text； slipping it into the crook of my arm； moved to the first desk and then carefully placed the candelabra in front of me； where it would light me but throw no shadows under my fingers； and I opened the book。
〃It's all here！〃 I whispered。 〃Tell me； St。 Augustine； what were they so that I may convince Ramiel and Setheus that they must help me； or give me the means to convince these modern Florentines； who care about nothing right now but making war with paid soldiers on the Serene Republic of Venice up north。 Help me； Saint。 I'm telling you。〃
Ah； Chapter Ten； of Volume Nine； I knew this。。。
Augustine was quoting Plotinus； or explaining him：
。。。 that the very fact of man's corporal mortality is due to the passion of God； who would not have us kept for ever in the misery of this life。 The wickedness of demons was not judged worthy of this passion； and in the misery of their condition； with a soul subject to passions； they have not been granted the mortal body； which man had received； but an eternal body。
〃Ah； yes！〃 I said。 〃And this is what Florian offered me； bragging that they did not age or decay and were not subject to disease； that I could have lived there with them forever。 Evil； evil。 Well； this is proof； and I have it here； and I can show it to the monks！〃
I read on； skimming to find the kernels that would make my case grow。 Down to Chapter Eleven： Apuleius says also that the souls of men are demons。 On leaving human bodies they bee lares if they have shown themselves good； if evil； lemures or larvae。
〃Yes； lemures。 I know this word。 Lemures or larvae； and Ursula； she said to me that she had been young； young as me； they were all human and now they are lemures。〃 According to Apuleius； larvae are malignant demons created out of men。
I was overe with excitement。 I needed parchment and pens。 I had to note the place。 I had to mark down what I had discovered and go on。 For the next point was obviously to convince Ramiel and Setheus that they had gotten into the biggest …。 My thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt。
Behind me； a personage had e into the library。 I heard a heavy footfall； but there was a muffled quality to it； and a great darkening occurred behind me； as though all the slim； sly beams of the moon that fell through the passage beyond had been cut off。 I turned slowly and looked over my shoulder。
〃And why do you choose the left？〃 asked this personage。
He rose up before me； immense and winged； peering down at me； his face luminous in the flicker of the candles； his eyebrows gently raised but straight so that there was no arch to them to make them anything but severe。 He had the riotous golden hair of Fra Filippo's brush； curling beneath a huge red battle helmet； and behind him his wings were heavily sheathed in gold。
He wore a suit of armor； with the breastplates decorated and the shoulders covered with immense buckles； and around his waist was a blue sash of silk。 His sword was sheathed； and on one lax arm he wore his shield； with its red cross。 I had never seen his like。
〃I need you！〃 I declared。 I stood up； knocking the bench back。 I reached out so that it would not clatter to the floor。 I