At the conclusion of his words, the thief 356 Lifted his hands aloft with both the figs, 357 Crying: “Take that, God, for at thee I aim them.” From that time forth the serpents were my friends; For one entwined itself about his neck As if it said: “I will not thou speak more”; And round his arms another, and rebound him, Clinching itself together so in front, That with them he could not a motion make. Pistoia, ah, Pistoia! why resolve not 358 To burn thyself to ashes and so perish, Since in ill-doing thou thy seed excellest? Through all the sombre circles of this Hell, Spirit I saw not against God so proud, Not he who fell at Thebes down from the walls! 359 He fled away, and spake no further word; And I beheld a Centaur full of rage Come crying out: “Where is, where is the scoffer?” I do not think Maremma has so many 360