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doomed the little St. Amar to a life of unconscious blasphemy, though it provided, in this human disguise, his call to death and destruction.

As a child these religious obsessions remained ascetic and pure, but when he grew older and sexual problems were interwoven with others, they became menacing and obscene. If God and His saints would persist in molesting him like demons, he could only fear their ulterior motives. He imagined that all around him were in league with these biblical aggressors. As it was my mother's intention that he should follow the routine of a mentally healthy person, no servant, barber or nurse would be found who dared approach him and encounter the weapon-like thrusts of his pointed elbows. The result was that he was left to tend to himself and soon his appearance became that of a fanatic long lost in the desert. The tangled hair fell over his rounded shoulders, his long beard covered a concave chest; his eyes started angrily from under wet, matted eyelashes; while the small ways-like face was sometimes raised defiantly to some invisible foe. Slim, dirty hands seemed to grope nervously for some intangible escape. He knew that he was incomplete, caught in the human net before his time.