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whom, as this fire has progressed so far, there is danger that it may revive entirely, and the plague, which had already begun to be more remitted, may return even more savage and burst into flames. Paulinus Rapicius is not particularly distinguished in wisdom, so that I would join myself to the class of his enemies, nor could I be persuaded by hatreds or flatteries. But having professed himself an enemy through published books, I provoked them against me. And meanwhile, while I fight for the Christian religion, the sycophants nevertheless, against their own conscience, do not blush to accuse me of being of the opposite party, and they secretly plot my destruction through tunnels. They are grieved that I fight against the enemies: they would prefer that I write for them, as if to harm them. But how can I alone be equal to two sides: both parties stab me from behind. The one that ought to be present uses a wonderful malice to slander everything: my erudition, my character, and the piety of my soul. I do not fight about the erudition: regarding my character and soul, I rejoice that I am not such as they depict, and a good conscience and Christ the Giver suffice for me. By these intemperances, they will provoke against themselves the hatred and pen of learned men. Indeed, I will deal with them in such a way that they will not carry off much glory from me; especially with that most glorious Thraso, who breathes impotent hatred against me and frequently fumes against my name throughout entire banquets. Although his furious