justified, and Virgil, seeing his
peril, catches him up in his arms and runs with him to the next gulf,
knowing demons never pass beyond their beat.

"Never ran water with such hurrying pace
Adown the tube to turn a land-mill's wheel,
When nearest it approaches to the spokes,
As then along that edge my master ran,
Carrying me in his bosom, as a child,
Not a companion."

In the sixth division where they now arrive, they behold a procession
of victims, weighed down by gilded leaden cowls, creeping along so
slowly that Dante and Virgil pass all along their line although they
are not walking fast. Hearing one of these bowed figures address him,
Dante learns that, because he and his companions were hypocrites on
earth, they are doomed to travel constantly around this circle of the
Inferno, fainting beneath heavy loads.

A moment later Dante notices that the narrow path ahead of them is
blocked by a writhing figure pinned to the ground by three stakes.
This is Caiaphas, who insisted it was fitting that one man suffer for
the people and who, having thus sentenced Christ to the cross, has to
endure the whole procession to tramp over his prostrate form. The
cowled figure with whom Dante is conversing informs him, besides, that
in other parts of the circle are Ananias and the other members of the
Sanhedrim who condemned Christ. Deeming Dante has now seen enough of
this region, Virgil inquires where they can find an exit from this
gulf, and is shown by a spirit a steep ascent.

_Canto XXIV._ So precipitous is this passage that Virgil half carries
his charge, and, panting hard, both scramble to a ledge overhanging
the seventh gulf of Malebolge, where innumerable serpents prey upon
naked robbers, whose hands are bound behind them by writhing snakes.
Beneath the constant bites of these reptiles, the robber-victims turn
to ashes, only to rise phoenix-like a moment later and undergo renewed
torments. Dante converses with one of these spirits, who, after
describing his own misdeeds, prophesies in regard to the future of
Florence.

_Canto XXV._ The blasphemous speeches and gestures of this speaker are
silenced by an onslaught of snakes, before whose attack he attempts to
flee, only to be overtaken and tortured by a serpent-ridden centaur,
whom Virgil designates as Cacus. Further on, the travellers behold
three culprits who are alternately men and writhing snakes, always,
however, revealing more of the reptile than