{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25053/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25053","id":"gutenberg_25053","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25053","summary":null,"tags":["Anthony, of Egypt, Saint, approximately 250-355 or 356 -- Fiction","Banned Books from Anne Haight's list","Biographical fiction","Category: French Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christian fiction","Christian saints -- Fiction","Egypt -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Thierry Alberto, Henry Craig and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n   THE TEMPTATION\n   OF\n   ST. ANTONY\n\n   OR,\n\n   _A REVELATION OF THE SOUL_\n\n   BY\n   GUSTAVE FLAUBERT\n\n   _VOLUME VII._\n\n\n   SIMON P. MAGEE\n   PUBLISHER\n   CHICAGO, ILL.\n\n\n\n\n   COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY\n   M. WALTER DUNNE\n\n   _Entered at Stationers' Hall, London_\n\n\n\n\n   CONTENTS\n\n   THE TEMPTATION OF ST. ANTONY\n\n\n   CHAPTER I.                                                       PAGE\n\n   A HOLY SAINT                                                        1\n\n   CHAPTER II.\n\n   THE TEMPTATION OF LOVE AND POWER                                   16\n\n   CHAPTER III.\n\n   THE DISCIPLE, HILARION                                             40\n\n   CHAPTER IV.\n\n   THE FIERY TRIAL                                                    48\n\n   CHAPTER V.\n\n   ALL GODS, ALL RELIGIONS                                            99\n\n   CHAPTER VI.\n\n   THE MYSTERY OF SPACE                                              143\n\n   CHAPTER VII.\n\n   THE CHIMERA AND THE SPHINX                                        151\n\n\n\n\n   ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n   TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTONY\n\n                                                             FACING PAGE\n\n   \"DO NOT RESIST, I AM OMNIPOTENT!\" (See page 157)        _Frontispiece_\n\n   HE LETS GO THE TORCH IN ORDER TO EMBRACE THE HEAP                  26\n\n\n\n\nThe Temptation _of_ Saint Antony\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nA HOLY SAINT.\n\n\nIt is in the Thebaid, on the heights of a mountain, where a platform,\nshaped like a crescent, is surrounded by huge stones.\n\nThe Hermit's cell occupies the background. It is built of mud and reeds,\nflat-roofed and doorless. Inside are seen a pitcher and a loaf of black\nbread; in the centre, on a wooden support, a large book; on the ground,\nhere and there, bits of rush-work, a mat or two, a basket and a knife.\n\nSome ten paces or so from the cell a tall cross is planted in the\nground; and, at the other end of the platform, a gnarled old palm-tree\nleans over the abyss, for the side of the mountain is scarped; and at\nthe bottom of the cliff the Nile swells, as it were, into a lake.\n\nTo right and left, the view is bounded by the enclosing rocks; but, on\nthe side of the desert, immense undulations of a yellowish ash-colour\nrise, one above and one beyond the other, like the lines of a sea-coast;\nwhile, far off, beyond the sands, the mountains of the Libyan range form\na wall of chalk-like whiteness faintly shaded with violet haze. In\nfront, the sun is going down. Towards the north, the sky has a\npearl-grey tint; while, at the zenith, purple clouds, like the tufts of\na gigantic mane, stretch over the blue vault. These purple streaks grow\nbrowner; the patches of blue assume the paleness of mother-of-pearl. The\nbushes, the pebbles, the earth, now wear the hard colour of bronze, and\nthrough space floats a golden dust so fine that it is scarcely\ndistinguishable from the vibrations of light.\n\nSaint Antony, who has a long beard, unshorn locks, and a tunic of\ngoatskin, is seated, cross-legged, engaged in making mats. No sooner has\nthe sun disappeared than he heaves a deep sigh, and gazing towards the\nhorizon:\n\n\"Another day! Another day gone! I was not so miserable in former times\nas I am now! Before the night was over, I used to begin my prayers; then\nI would go down to the river to fetch water, and would reascend the\nrough mountain pathway, singing a hymn, with the water-bottle on my\nshoulder. After that, I used to amuse myself by arranging everything in\nmy cell. I used to take up my tools, and examine the mats, to see\nwhether they were evenly cut, and the baskets, to see whether they were\nlight; for it seemed to me then that even my most trifling acts were\nduties which I performed with ease. At regulated hours I left off my\nwork and prayed, with my two arms extended. I felt as if a fountain of\nmercy were flowing from Heaven above into my heart. But now it is dried\nup. Why is this? ...\"\n\nHe proceeds slowly into the rocky enclosure.\n\n\"When I left home, everyone found fault with me. My mother sank into a\ndying state; my sister, from a distance, made signs to me to come back;\nand the other one wept, Ammonaria, that child whom I used to meet every\nevening, beside the cistern, as she was leading away her cattle. She ran\nafter me. The rings on her feet glittered in the dust, and her tunic,\nopen at the hips, fluttered in the wind. The old ascetic who hurried me\nfrom the spot addressed her, as we fled, in loud and menacing tones.\nThen our two camels kept galloping continuously, till at length every\nfamiliar object had vanished from my sight.\n\n\"At first, I selected for my abode the tomb of one of the Pharaohs. But\nsome enchantment surrounds those subterranean palaces, amid whose gloom\nthe air is stifled with the decayed odour of aromatics. From the depths\nof the sarcophagi I heard a mournful voice arise, that called me by\nname--or rather, as it seemed to me, all the fearful pictures on the\nwalls started into hideous life. Then I fled to the borders of the Red\nSea into a citadel in ruins. There I had for companions the scorpions\nthat crawled amongst the stones, and, overhead, the eagles who were\ncontinually whirling across the azure sky. At night, I was torn by\ntalons, bitten by beaks, or brushed with light wings; and horrible\ndemons, yelling in my ears, hurled me to the earth. At last, the drivers\nof a caravan, which was journeying towards Alexandria, rescued me, and\ncarried me along with them.\n\n\"After this, I became a pupil of the venerable Didymus. Though he was\nblind, no one equalled him in knowledge of the Scriptures. When our\nlesson was ended, he used to take my arm, and, with my aid, ascend the\nPanium, from whose summit could be seen the Pharos and the open sea.\nThen we would return home, passing along the quays, where we brushed\nagainst men of every nation, including the Cimmerians, clad in bearskin,\nand the Gymnosophists of the Ganges, who smear their bodies with\ncow-dung. There were continual conflicts in the streets, some of which\nwere caused by the Jews' refusal to pay taxes, and others by the\nattempts of the seditious to drive out the Romans. Besides, the city is\nfilled with heretics, the followers of Manes, of Valentinus, of\nBasilides, and of Arius, all of them eagerly striving to discuss with\nyou points of doctrine and to convert you to their views.\n\n\"Their discourses sometimes come back to my memory; and, though I try\nnot to dwell upon them, they haunt my thoughts.\n\n\"I next took refuge in Colzin, and, when I had undergone a severe\npenance, I no longer feared the wrath of God. Many persons gathered\naround me, offering to become anchorites. I imposed on them a rule of\nlife in antagonism to the vagaries of Gnosticism and the sophistries of\nthe philosophers. Communications now reached me from every quarter, and\npeople came a great distance to see me.\n\n\"Meanwhile, the populace continued to torture the confessors; and I was\nled back to Alexandria by an ardent thirst for martyrdom. I found on my\narrival that the persecution had ceased three days before. Just as I was\nreturning, my path was blocked by a great crowd in front of the Temple\nof Serapis. I was told that the Governor was about to make one final\nexample. In the centre of the portico, in the broad light of day, a\nnaked woman was fastened to a pillar, while two soldiers were scourging\nher. At each stroke her entire frame writhed. Suddenly, she cast a wild\nlook around, her trembling lips parted; and, above the heads of the\nmultitude, her figure wrapped, as it were, in her flowing hair,\nmethought I recognised Ammonaria. ... Yet this one was taller--and\nbeautiful, exceedingly!\"\n\nHe draws his hand across his brow.\n\n\"No! no! I must not think upon it!\n\n\"On another occasion, Athanasius asked me to assist him against the\nArians. At that time, they had confined themselves to attacking him with\ninvectives and ridicule. Since then, however, he has been calumniated,\ndeprived of his see, and banished. Where is he now? I know not! People\nconcern themselves so little about bringing me any news! All my\ndisciples have abandoned me, Hilarion like the rest.\n\n\"He was, perhaps, fifteen years of age when he came to me, and his mind\nwas so much filled with curiosity that every moment he was asking me\nquestions. Then he would listen with a pensive air; and, without a\nmurmur, he would run to fetch whatever I wanted--more nimble than a kid,\nand gay enough, moreover, to make even a patriarch laugh. He was a son\nto me!\"\n\nThe sky is red; the earth completely dark. Agitated by the wind, clouds\nof sand rise, like winding-sheets, and then fall again. All at once, in\na clear space in the heavens, a flock of birds flits by, forming a kind\nof triangular battalion, resembling a piece of metal with its edges\nalone vibrating.\n\nAntony glances at them.\n\n\"Ah! how I should like to follow them! How often, too, have I not\nwistfully gazed at the long boats with their sails resembling wings,\nespecially when they bore away those who had been my guests! What happy\ntimes I used to have with them! What outpourings! None of them\ninterested me more than Ammon. He described to me his journey to Rome,\nthe Catacombs, the Coliseum, the piety of illustrious women, and a\nthousand other things. And yet I was unwilling to go away with him! How\ncame I to be so obstinate in clinging to this solitary life? It might\nhave been better for me had I stayed with the monks of Nitria when they\nbesought me to do so. They occupy separate cells, and yet communicate\nwith one another. On Sunday the trumpet calls them to the church, where\nyou may see three whips hung up, which are reserved for the punishment\nof thieves and intruders, for they maintain very severe discipline.\n\n\"Nevertheless, they do not stand in need of gifts, for the faithful\nbring them eggs, fruit, and even instruments for removing thorns from\ntheir feet. There are vineyards around Pisperi, and those of Pabenum\nhave a raft, in which they go forth to seek provisions.\n\n\"But I should have served my brethren more effectually by being a simple\npriest. I might succour the poor, administer the sacraments, and guard\nthe purity of domestic life. Besides, all the laity are not lost, and\nthere was nothing to prevent me from being, for example, a grammarian or\na philosopher. I should have had in my room a sphere made of reeds,\ntablets always in my hand, young people around me, and a crown of laurel\nsuspended as an emblem over my door.\n\n\"But there is too much pride in such triumphs! Better be a soldier. I\nwas strong and courageous enough to manage engines of war, to traverse\ngloomy forests, or, with helmet on head, to enter smoking cities. More\nthan this, there would be nothing to hinder me from purchasing with my\nearnings the office of toll-keeper of some bridge, and travellers would\nrelate to me their histories, pointing out to me heaps of curious\nobjects which they had stowed away in their baggage.\n\n\"On festival days the merchants of Alexandria sail along the Canopic\nbranch of the Nile and drink wine from cups of lotus, to the sound of\ntambourines, which make all the taverns near the river shake. Beyond,\ntrees, cut cone-fashion, protect the peaceful farmsteads against the\nsouth wind. The roof of each house rests on slender columns running\nclose to one another, like the framework of a lattice, and, through\nthese spaces, the owner, stretched on a long seat, can gaze out upon his\ngrounds and watch his servants thrashing corn or gathering in the\nvintage, and the cattle trampling on the straw. His children play along\nthe grass; his wife bends forward to kiss him.\"\n\nThrough the deepening shadows of the night pointed snouts reveal\nthemselves here and there with ears erect and glittering eyes. Antony\nadvances towards them. Scattering the wind in their wild rush, the\nanimals take flight. It was a troop of jackals.\n\nOne of them remains behind, and, resting on two paws, with his body bent\nand his head on one side, he places himself in an attitude of defiance.\n\n\"How pretty he looks! I should like to pass my hand softly over his\nback.\"\n\nAntony whistles to make him come near. The jackal disappears.\n\n\"Ah! he is gone to join his fellows. Oh! this solitude! this weariness!\"\n\nLaughing bitterly:\n\n\"This is such a delightful life--to twist palm branches in the fire to\nmake shepherds' crooks, to turn out baskets and fasten mats together,\nand then to exchange all this handiwork with the Nomads for bread that\nbreaks your teeth! Ah! wretched me! will there never be an end of this?\nBut, indeed, death would be better! I can bear it no longer! Enough!\nEnough!\"\n\nHe stamps his foot, and makes his way through the rocks with rapid step,\nthen stops, out of breath, bursts into sobs, and flings himself upon the\nground.\n\nThe night is calm; millions of stars are trembling in the sky. No sound\nis heard save the chattering of the tarantula.\n\nThe two arms of the cross cast a shadow on the sand. Antony, who is\nweeping, perceives it.\n\n\"Am I so weak, my God? Courage! Let us arise!\"\n\nHe enters his cell, finds there the embers of a fire, lights a torch,\nand places it on the wooden stand, so as to illumine the big book.\n\n\"Suppose I take--the 'Acts of the Apostles'--yes, no matter where!\n\n\"'_He saw the sky opened with a great linen sheet which was let down by\nits four corners, wherein were all kinds of terrestrial animals and wild\nbeasts, reptiles and birds. And a voice said to him: Arise, Peter! Kill\nand eat!_'\n\n\"So, then, the Lord wished that His apostle should eat every kind of\nfood? ... whilst I ...\"\n\nAntony lets his chin sink on his breast. The rustling of the pages,\nwhich the wind scatters, causes him to lift his head, and he reads:\n\n\"'_The Jews slew all their enemies with swords, and made a great carnage\nof them, so that they disposed at will of those whom they hated._'\n\n\"There follows the enumeration of the people slain by them--seventy-five\nthousand. They had endured so much! Besides, their enemies were the\nenemies of the true God. And how they must have enjoyed their vengeance,\ncompletely slaughtering the idolaters! No doubt the city was gorged with\nthe dead! They must have been at the garden gates, on the staircases,\nand packed so closely together in the various rooms that the doors could\nnot be closed! But here am I plunging into thoughts of murder and\nbloodshed!\"\n\nHe opens the book at another passage.\n\n\"'_Nebuchadnezzar prostrated himself with his face on the ground and\nadored Daniel._'\n\n\"Ah! that is good! The Most High exalts His prophets above kings. This\nmonarch spent his life in feasting, always intoxicated with sensuality\nand pride. But God, to punish him, changed him into a beast, and he\nwalked on four paws!\"\n\nAntony begins to laugh; and, while stretching out his arms, disarranges\nthe leaves of the book with the tips of his fingers. Then his eyes fall\non these words:\n\n\"'_Ezechias felt great joy in coming to them. He showed them his\nperfumes, his gold and silver, all his aromatics, his sweet-smelling\noils, all his precious vases, and the things that were in his\ntreasures._'\n\n\"I can imagine how they beheld, heaped up to the very ceiling, gems,\ndiamonds, darics. A man who possesses such an accumulation of these\nthings is not the same as others. While handling them, he assumes that\nhe holds the result of innumerable exertions, and that he has absorbed,\nand can again diffuse, the very life of the people. This is a useful\nprecaution for kings. The wisest of them all was not wanting in it. His\nfleets brought him ivory--and apes. Where is this? It is----\"\n\nHe rapidly turns over the leaves.\n\n\"Ah! this is the place:\n\n\"'_The Queen of Sheba, being aware of the glory of Solomon, came to\ntempt him, propounding enigmas._'\n\n\"How did she hope to tempt him? The Devil was very desirous to tempt\nJesus. But Jesus triumphed because He was God, and Solomon owing,\nperhaps, to his magical science. It is sublime, this science; for--as a\nphilosopher has explained to me--the world forms a whole, all whose\nparts have an influence on one another, like the different organs of a\nsingle body. It is interesting to understand the affinities and\nantipathies implanted in everything by Nature, and then to put them into\nplay. In this way one might be able to modify laws that appear to be\nunchangeable.\"\n\nAt this point the two shadows traced behind him by the arms of the cross\nproject themselves in front of him. They form, as it were, two great\nhorns. Antony exclaims:\n\n\"Help, my God!\"\n\nThe shadows resume their former position.\n\n\"Ah! it was an illusion--nothing more. It is useless for me to torment\nmy soul, I have no need to do so--absolutely no need!\"\n\nHe sits down and crosses his arms.\n\n\"And yet methought I felt the approach ... But why should _he_ come?\nBesides, do I not know his artifices? I have repelled the monstrous\nanchorite who, with a laugh, offered me little hot loaves; the centaur\nwho tried to take me on his back; and that vision of a beautiful dusky\nmaid amid the sands, which revealed itself to me as the spirit of\nvoluptuousness.\"\n\nAntony walks up and down rapidly.\n\n\"It is by my direction that all these holy retreats have been built,\nfull of monks wearing hair-cloths beneath their goatskins, and numerous\nenough to furnish forth an army. I have healed diseases at a distance. I\nhave banished demons. I have waded through the river in the midst of\ncrocodiles. The Emperor Constantine has written me three letters; and\nBalacius, who treated with contempt the letter I sent him, has been torn\nby his own horses. The people of Alexandria, whenever I reappeared\namongst them, fought to get a glimpse of me; and Athanasius was my guide\nwhen I took my departure. But what toils, too, I have had to undergo!\nHere, for more than thirty years, have I been constantly groaning in the\ndesert! I have carried on my loins eighty pounds of bronze, like\nEusebius; I have exposed my body to the stings of insects, like\nMacarius; I have remained fifty-three nights without closing an eye,\nlike Pachomius; and those who are decapitated, torn with pincers, or\nburnt, possess less virtue, perhaps, inasmuch as my life is a continual\nmartyrdom!\"\n\nAntony slackens his pace.\n\n\"Certainly there is no one who undergoes so much mortification.\nCharitable hearts are growing fewer, and people never give me anything\nnow. My cloak is worn out, and I have no sandals, nor even a porringer;\nfor I gave all my goods and chattels to the poor and my own family,\nwithout keeping a single obolus for myself. Should I not need a little\nmoney to get the tools that are indispensable for my work? Oh! not\nmuch--a little sum! ... I would husband it.\n\n\"The Fathers of Nicaea were ranged in purple robes on thrones along the\nwall, like the Magi; and they were entertained at a banquet, while\nhonours were heaped upon them, especially on Paphnutius, merely because\nhe has lost an eye and is lame since Dioclesian's persecution! Many a\ntime the Emperor has kissed his injured eye. What folly! Moreover, the\nCouncil had such worthless members! Theophilus, a bishop of Scythia;\nJohn, another, in Persia; Spiridion, a cattle-drover. Alexander was too\nold. Athanasius ought to have made himself more agreeable to the Arians\nin order to get concessions from them!\n\n\"How is it they dealt with me? They would not even give me a hearing! He\nwho spoke against me--a tall young man with a curling beard--coolly\nlaunched out captious objections; and while I was trying to find words\nto reply to him, they kept looking at me with malignant glances, barking\nat me like hyenas. Ah! if I could only get them all sent into exile by\nthe Emperor, or rather smite them, crush them, behold them suffering. I\nhave much to suffer myself!\"\n\nHe sinks swooning against the wall of his cell.\n\n\"This is what it is to have fasted overmuch! My strength is going. If I\nhad eaten, only once, a morsel of meat!\"\n\nHe half-closes his eyes languidly.\n\n\"Ah! for some red flesh ... a bunch of grapes to nibble, some curds that\nwould quiver on a plate!\n\n\"But what ails me now? What ails me now? I feel my heart dilating like\nthe sea when it swells before the storm. An overwhelming weakness bows\nme down, and the warm atmosphere seems to waft towards me the odour of\nhair. Still, there is no trace of a woman here.\"\n\nHe turns towards the little pathway amid the rocks.\n\n\"This is the way they come, poised in their litters on the black arms of\neunuchs. They descend, and, joining together their hands, laden with\nrings, they kneel down. They tell me their troubles. The need of a\nsuperhuman voluptuousness tortures them. They would like to die; in\ntheir dreams they have seen gods who called them by name; and the edges\nof their robes fall round my feet. I repel them. 'Oh! no,' they say to\nme, 'not yet! What must I do?' Any penance will appear easy to them.\nThey ask me for the most severe: to share in my own, to live with me.\n\n\"It is a long time now since I have seen any of them! Perhaps, though,\nthis is what is about to happen? And why not? If suddenly I were to hear\nthe mule-bells ringing in the mountains. It seems to me ...\"\n\nAntony climbs upon a rock, at the entrance of the path, and bends\nforward, darting his eyes into the darkness.\n\n\"Yes! down there, at the very end, there is a moving mass, like people\nwho are trying to pick their way. Here it is! They are making a\nmistake.\"\n\nCalling out:\n\n\"On this side! Come! Come!\"\n\nThe echo repeats:\n\n\"Come! Come!\"\n\nHe lets his arms fall down, quite dazed.\n\n\"What a shame! Ah! poor Antony!\"\n\nAnd immediately he hears a whisper:\n\n\"Poor Antony.\"\n\n\"Is that anyone? Answer!\"\n\nIt is the wind passing through the spaces between the rocks that causes\nthese intonations, and in their confused sonorities he distinguishes\nvoices, as if the air were speaking. They are low and insinuating, a\nkind of sibilant utterance:\n\n_The first_--\"Do you wish for women?\"\n\n_The second_--\"Nay; rather great piles of money.\"\n\n_The third_--\"A shining sword.\"\n\n_The others_--\"All the people admire you.\"\n\n\"Go to sleep.\"\n\n\"You will cut their throats. Yes! you will cut their throats.\"\n\nAt the same time, visible objects undergo a transformation. On the edge\nof the cliff, the old palm-tree, with its cluster of yellow leaves,\nbecomes the torso of a woman leaning over the abyss, and poised by her\nmass of hair.\n\nAntony re-enters his cell, and the stool which sustains the big book,\nwith its pages filled with black letters, seems to him a bush covered\nwith swallows.\n\n\"Without doubt, it is the torch that is making this play of light. Let\nus put it out!\"\n\nHe puts it out, and finds himself in profound darkness.\n\nAnd, suddenly, through the midst of the air, passes first, a pool of\nwater, then a prostitute, the corner of a temple, a figure of a soldier,\nand a chariot with two white horses prancing.\n\nThese images make their appearance abruptly, in successive shocks,\nstanding out from the darkness like pictures of scarlet above a\nbackground of ebony.\n\nTheir motion becomes more rapid; they pass in a dizzy fashion. At other\ntimes they stop, and, growing pale by degrees, dissolve--or, rather,\nthey fly away, and instantly others arrive in their stead.\n\nAntony droops his eyelids.\n\nThey multiply, surround, besiege him. An unspeakable terror seizes hold\nof him, and he no longer has any sensation but that of a burning\ncontraction in the epigastrium. In spite of the confusion of his brain,\nhe is conscious of a tremendous silence which separates him from all the\nworld. He tries to speak; impossible! It is as if the link that bound\nhim to existence was snapped; and, making no further resistance, Antony\nfalls upon the mat.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE TEMPTATION OF LOVE AND POWER.\n\n\nThen, a great shadow--more subtle than an ordinary shadow, from whose\nborders other shadows hang in festoons--traces itself upon the ground.\n\nIt is the Devil, resting against the roof of the cell and carrying under\nhis wings--like a gigantic bat that is suckling its young--the Seven\nDeadly Sins, whose grinning heads disclose themselves confusedly.\n\nAntony, his eyes still closed, remains languidly passive, and stretches\nhis limbs upon the mat, which seems to him to grow softer every moment,\nuntil it swells out and becomes a bed; then the bed becomes a shallop,\nwith water rippling against its sides.\n\nTo right and left rise up two necks of black soil that tower above the\ncultivated plains, with a sycamore here and there. A noise of bells,\ndrums, and singers resounds at a distance. These are caused by people\nwho are going down from Canopus to sleep at the Temple of Serapis.\nAntony is aware of this, and he glides, driven by the wind, between the\ntwo banks of the canal. The leaves of the papyrus and the red blossoms\nof the water-lilies, larger than a man, bend over him. He lies extended\nat the bottom of the vessel. An oar from behind drags through the water.\nFrom time to time rises a hot breath of air that shakes the thin reeds.\nThe murmur of the tiny waves grows fainter. A drowsiness takes\npossession of him. He dreams that he is an Egyptian Solitary.\n\nThen he starts up all of a sudden.\n\n\"Have I been dreaming? It was so pleasant that I doubted its reality. My\ntongue is burning! I am thirsty!\"\n\nHe enters his cell and searches about everywhere at random.\n\n\"The ground is wet! Has it been raining? Stop! Scraps of food! My\npitcher broken! But the water-bottle?\"\n\nHe finds it.\n\n\"Empty, completely empty! In order to get down to the river, I should\nneed three hours at least, and the night is so dark I could not see well\nenough to find my way there. My entrails are writhing. Where is the\nbread?\"\n\nAfter searching for some time he picks up a crust smaller than an egg.\n\n\"How is this? The jackals must have taken it, curse them!\"\n\nAnd he flings the bread furiously upon the ground.\n\nThis movement is scarcely completed when a table presents itself to\nview, covered with all kinds of dainties. The table-cloth of byssus,\nstriated like the fillets of sphinxes, seems to unfold itself in\nluminous undulations. Upon it there are enormous quarters of flesh-meat,\nhuge fishes, birds with their feathers, quadrupeds with their hair,\nfruits with an almost natural colouring; and pieces of white ice and\nflagons of violet crystal shed glowing reflections. In the middle of\nthe table Antony observes a wild boar smoking from all its pores, its\npaws beneath its belly, its eyes half-closed--and the idea of being able\nto eat this formidable animal rejoices his heart exceedingly. Then,\nthere are things he had never seen before--black hashes, jellies of the\ncolour of gold, ragouts, in which mushrooms float like water-lilies on\nthe surface of a pool, whipped creams, so light that they resemble\nclouds.\n\nAnd the aroma of all this brings to him the odour of the ocean, the\ncoolness of fountains, the mighty perfume of woods. He dilates his\nnostrils as much as possible; he drivels, saying to himself that there\nis enough there to last for a year, for ten years, for his whole life!\n\nIn proportion as he fixes his wide-opened eyes upon the dishes, others\naccumulate, forming a pyramid, whose angles turn downwards. The wines\nbegin to flow, the fishes to palpitate; the blood in the dishes bubbles\nup; the pulp of the fruits draws nearer, like amorous lips; and the\ntable rises to his breast, to his very chin--with only one seat and one\ncover, which are exactly in front of him.\n\nHe is about to seize the loaf of bread. Other loaves make their\nappearance.\n\n\"For me! ... all! but----\"\n\nAntony draws back.\n\n\"In the place of the one which was there, here are others! It is a\nmiracle, then, exactly like that the Lord performed! ... With what\nobject? Nay, all the rest of it is not less incomprehensible! Ah! demon,\nbegone! begone!\"\n\nHe gives a kick to the table. It disappears.\n\n\"Nothing more? No!\"\n\nHe draws a long breath.\n\n\"Ah! the temptation was strong. But what an escape I have had!\"\n\nHe raises up his head, and stumbles against an object which emits a\nsound.\n\n\"What can this be?\"\n\nAntony stoops down.\n\n\"Hold! A cup! Someone must have lost it while travelling--nothing\nextraordinary!----\"\n\nHe wets his finger and rubs.\n\n\"It glitters! Precious metal! However, I cannot distinguish----\"\n\nHe lights his torch and examines the cup.\n\n\"It is made of silver, adorned with ovolos at its rim, with a medal at\nthe bottom.\"\n\nHe makes the medal resound with a touch of his finger-nail.\n\n\"It is a piece of money which is worth from seven to eight drachmas--not\nmore. No matter! I can easily with that sum get myself a sheepskin.\"\n\nThe torch's reflection lights up the cup.\n\n\"It is not possible! Gold! yes, all gold!\"\n\nHe finds another piece, larger than the first, at the bottom, and,\nunderneath that many others.\n\n\"Why, here's a sum large enough to buy three cows--a little field!\"\n\nThe cup is now filled with gold pieces.\n\n\"Come, then! a hundred slaves, soldiers, a heap wherewith to buy----\"\n\nHere the granulations of the cup's rim, detaching themselves, form a\npearl necklace.\n\n\"With this jewel here, one might even win the Emperor's wife!\"\n\nWith a shake Antony makes the necklace slip over his wrist. He holds the\ncup in his left hand, and with his right arm raises the torch to shed\nmore light upon it. Like water trickling down from a basin, it pours\nitself out in continuous waves, so as to make a hillock on the\nsand--diamonds, carbuncles, and sapphires mingled with huge pieces of\ngold bearing the effigies of kings.\n\n\"What? What? Staters, shekels, darics, aryandics! Alexander, Demetrius,\nthe Ptolemies, Caesar! But each of them had not as much! Nothing\nimpossible in it! More to come! And those rays which dazzle me! Ah! my\nheart overflows! How good this is! Yes! ... Yes! ... more! Never enough!\nIt did not matter even if I kept flinging it into the sea; more would\nremain. Why lose any of it? I will keep it all, without telling anyone\nabout it. I will dig myself a chamber in the rock, the interior of which\nwill be lined with strips of bronze; and thither will I come to feel the\npiles of gold sinking under my heels. I will plunge my arms into it as\nif into sacks of corn. I would like to anoint my face with it--to sleep\non top of it!\"\n\nHe lets go the torch in order to embrace the heap, and falls to the\nground on his breast. He gets up again. The place is perfectly empty!\n\n\"What have I done? If I died during that brief space of time, the result\nwould have been Hell--irrevocable Hell!\"\n\nA shudder runs through his frame.\n\n\"So, then, I am accursed? Ah! no, this is all my own fault! I let myself\nbe caught in every trap. There is no one more idiotic or more infamous.\nI would like to beat myself, or, rather, to tear myself out of my body.\nI have restrained myself too long. I need to avenge myself, to strike,\nto kill! It is as if I had a troop of wild beasts in my soul. I would\nlike, with a stroke of a hatchet in the midst of a crowd----Ah! a\ndagger! ...\"\n\nHe flings himself upon his knife, which he has just seen. The knife\nslips from his hand, and Antony remains propped against the wall of his\ncell, his mouth wide open, motionless--like one in a trance.\n\nAll the surroundings have disappeared.\n\nHe finds himself in Alexandria on the Panium--an artificial mound raised\nin the centre of the city, with corkscrew stairs on the outside.\n\nIn front of it stretches Lake Mareotis, with the sea to the right and\nthe open plain to the left, and, directly under his eyes, an irregular\nsuccession of flat roofs, traversed from north to south and from east to\nwest by two streets, which cross each other, and which form, in their\nentire length, a row of porticoes with Corinthian capitals. The houses\noverhanging this double colonnade have stained-glass windows. Some have\nenormous wooden cages outside of them, in which the air from without is\nswallowed up.\n\nMonuments in various styles of architecture are piled close to one\nanother. Egyptian pylons rise above Greek temples. Obelisks exhibit\nthemselves like spears between battlements of red brick. In the centres\nof squares there are statues of Hermes with pointed ears, and of Anubis\nwith dogs' heads. Antony notices the mosaics in the court-yards, and the\ntapestries hung from the cross-beams of the ceiling.\n\nWith a single glance he takes in the two ports (the Grand Port and the\nEunostus), both round like two circles, and separated by a mole joining\nAlexandria to the rocky island, on which stands the tower of the\nPharos, quadrangular, five hundred cubits high and in nine storys, with\na heap of black charcoal flaming on its summit.\n\nSmall ports nearer to the shore intersect the principal ports. The mole\nis terminated at each end by a bridge built on marble columns fixed in\nthe sea. Vessels pass beneath, and pleasure-boats inlaid with ivory,\ngondolas covered with awnings, triremes and biremes, all kinds of\nshipping, move up and down or remain at anchor along the quays.\n\nAround the Grand Port there is an uninterrupted succession of Royal\nstructures: the palace of the Ptolemies, the Museum, the Posideion, the\nCaesarium, the Timonium where Mark Antony took refuge, and the Soma which\ncontains the tomb of Alexander; while at the other extremity of the\ncity, close to the Eunostus, might be seen glass, perfume, and paper\nfactories.\n\nItinerant vendors, porters, and ass-drivers rush to and fro, jostling\nagainst one another. Here and there a priest of Osiris with a panther's\nskin on his shoulders, a Roman soldier, or a group of negroes, may be\nobserved. Women stop in front of stalls where artisans are at work, and\nthe grinding of chariot-wheels frightens away some birds who are picking\nup from the ground the sweepings of the shambles and the remnants of\nfish. Over the uniformity of white houses the plan of the streets casts,\nas it were, a black network. The markets, filled with herbage, exhibit\ngreen bouquets, the drying-sheds of the dyers, plates of colours, and\nthe gold ornaments on the pediments of temples, luminous points--all\nthis contained within the oval enclosure of the greyish walls, under the\nvault of the blue heavens, hard by the motionless sea. But the crowd\nstops and looks towards the eastern side, from which enormous whirlwinds\nof dust are advancing.\n\nIt is the monks of the Thebaid who are coming, clad in goats' skins,\narmed with clubs, and howling forth a canticle of war and of religion\nwith this refrain:\n\n\"Where are they? Where are they?\"\n\nAntony comprehends that they have come to kill the Arians.\n\nAll at once, the streets are deserted, and one sees no longer anything\nbut running feet.\n\nAnd now the Solitaries are in the city. Their formidable cudgels,\nstudded with nails, whirl around like monstrances of steel. One can hear\nthe crash of things being broken in the houses. Intervals of silence\nfollow, and then the loud cries burst forth again. From one end of the\nstreets to the other there is a continuous eddying of people in a state\nof terror. Several are armed with pikes. Sometimes two groups meet and\nform into one; and this multitude, after rushing along the pavements,\nseparates, and those composing it proceed to knock one another down. But\nthe men with long hair always reappear.\n\nThin wreaths of smoke escape from the corners of buildings. The leaves\nof the doors burst asunder; the skirts of the walls fall in; the\narchitraves topple over.\n\nAntony meets all his enemies one after another. He recognises people\nwhom he had forgotten. Before killing them, he outrages them. He rips\nthem open, cuts their throats, knocks them down, drags the old men by\ntheir beards, runs over children, and beats those who are wounded.\nPeople revenge themselves on luxury. Those who cannot read, tear the\nbooks to pieces; others smash and destroy the statues, the paintings,\nthe furniture, the cabinets--a thousand dainty objects whose use they\nare ignorant of, and which, for that very reason, exasperate them. From\ntime to time they stop, out of breath, and then begin again. The\ninhabitants, taking refuge in the court-yards, utter lamentations. The\nwomen lift their eyes to Heaven, weeping, with their arms bare. In order\nto move the Solitaries they embrace their knees; but the latter only\ndash them aside, and the blood gushes up to the ceiling, falls back on\nthe linen clothes that line the walls, streams from the trunks of\ndecapitated corpses, fills the aqueducts, and rolls in great red pools\nalong the ground.\n\nAntony is steeped in it up to his middle. He steps into it, sucks it up\nwith his lips, and quivers with joy at feeling it on his limbs and under\nhis hair, which is quite wet with it.\n\nThe night falls. The terrible clamour abates.\n\nThe Solitaries have disappeared.\n\nSuddenly, on the outer galleries lining the nine stages of the Pharos,\nAntony perceives thick black lines, as if a flock of crows had alighted\nthere. He hastens thither, and soon finds himself on the summit.\n\nA huge copper mirror turned towards the sea reflects the ships in the\noffing.\n\nAntony amuses himself by looking at them; and as he continues looking at\nthem, their number increases.\n\nThey are gathered in a gulf formed like a crescent. Behind, upon a\npromontory, stretches a new city built in the Roman style of\narchitecture, with cupolas of stone, conical roofs, marble work in red\nand blue, and a profusion of bronze attached to the volutes of\ncapitals, to the tops of houses, and to the angles of cornices. A wood,\nformed of cypress-trees, overhangs it. The colour of the sea is greener;\nthe air is colder. On the mountains at the horizon there is snow.\n\nAntony is about to pursue his way when a man accosts him, and says:\n\n\"Come! they are waiting for you!\"\n\nHe traverses a forum, enters a court-yard, stoops under a gate, and he\narrives before the front of the palace, adorned with a group in wax\nrepresenting the Emperor Constantine hurling the dragon to the earth. A\nporphyry basin supports in its centre a golden conch filled with\npistachio-nuts. His guide informs him that he may take some of them. He\ndoes so.\n\nThen he loses himself, as it were, in a succession of apartments.\n\nAlong the walls may be seen, in mosaic, generals offering conquered\ncities to the Emperor on the palms of their hands. And on every side are\ncolumns of basalt, gratings of silver filigree, seats of ivory, and\ntapestries embroidered with pearls. The light falls from the vaulted\nroof, and Antony proceeds on his way. Tepid exhalations spread around;\noccasionally he hears the modest patter of a sandal. Posted in the\nante-chambers, the custodians--who resemble automatons--bear on their\nshoulders vermilion-coloured truncheons.\n\nAt last, he finds himself in the lower part of a hall with hyacinth\ncurtains at its extreme end. They divide, and reveal the Emperor seated\nupon a throne, attired in a violet tunic and red buskins with black\nbands.\n\nA diadem of pearls is wreathed around his hair, which is arranged in\nsymmetrical rolls. He has drooping eyelids, a straight nose, and a\nheavy and cunning expression of countenance. At the corners of the dais,\nextended above his head, are placed four golden doves, and, at the foot\nof the throne, two enamelled lions are squatted. The doves begin to coo,\nthe lions to roar. The Emperor rolls his eyes; Antony steps forward; and\ndirectly, without preamble, they proceed with a narrative of events.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"In the cities of Antioch, Ephesus, and Alexandria, the temples have\nbeen pillaged, and the statues of the gods converted into pots and\nporridge-pans.\"\n\nThe Emperor laughs heartily at this. Antony reproaches him for his\ntolerance towards the Novatians. But the Emperor flies into a passion.\n\"Novatians, Arians, Meletians--he is sick of them all!\" However, he\nadmires the episcopacy, for the Christians create bishops, who depend on\nfive or six personages, and it is his interest to gain over the latter\nin order to have the rest on his side. Moreover, he has not failed to\nfurnish them with considerable sums. But he detests the fathers of the\nCouncil of Nicaea. \"Come, let us have a look at them.\"\n\nAntony follows him. And they are found on the same floor under a terrace\nwhich commands a view of a hippodrome full of people, and surmounted by\nporticoes wherein the rest of the crowd are walking to and fro. In the\ncentre of the course there is a narrow platform on which stands a\nminiature temple of Mercury, a statue of Constantine, and three bronze\nserpents intertwined with each other; while at one end there are three\nhuge wooden eggs, and at the other seven dolphins with their tails in\nthe air.\n\nBehind the Imperial pavilion, the prefects of the chambers, the lords of\nthe household, and the Patricians are placed at intervals as far as the\nfirst story of a church, all whose windows are lined with women. At the\nright is the gallery of the Blue faction, at the left that of the Green,\nwhile below there is a picket of soldiers, and, on a level with the\narena, a row of Corinthian pillars, forming the entrance to the stalls.\n\nThe races are about to begin; the horses fall into line. Tall plumes\nfixed between their ears sway in the wind like trees; and in their leaps\nthey shake the chariots in the form of shells, driven by coachmen\nwearing a kind of many-coloured cuirass with sleeves narrow at the\nwrists and wide in the arms, with legs uncovered, full beard, and hair\nshaven above the forehead after the fashion of the Huns.\n\nAntony is deafened by the murmuring of voices. Above and below he\nperceives nothing but painted faces, motley garments, and plates of\nworked gold; and the sand of the arena, perfectly white, shines like a\nmirror.\n\nThe Emperor converses with him, confides to him some important secrets,\ninforms him of the assassination of his own son Crispus, and goes so far\nas to consult Antony about his health.\n\nMeanwhile, Antony perceives slaves at the end of the stalls. They are\nthe fathers of the Council of Nicaea, in rags, abject. The martyr\nPaphnutius is brushing a horse's mane; Theophilus is scrubbing the legs\nof another; John is painting the hoofs of a third; while Alexander is\npicking up their droppings in a basket.\n\nAntony passes among them. They salaam to him, beg of him to intercede\nfor them, and kiss his hands. The entire crowd hoots at them; and he\nrejoices in their degradation immeasurably. And now he has become one\nof the great ones of the Court, the Emperor's confidant, first minister!\nConstantine places the diadem on his forehead, and Antony keeps it, as\nif this honour were quite natural to him.\n\nAnd presently is disclosed, beneath the darkness, an immense hall,\nlighted up by candelabra of gold.\n\nColumns, half lost in shadow so tall are they, run in a row behind the\ntables, which stretch to the horizon, where appear, in a luminous haze,\nstaircases placed one above another, successions of archways, colossi,\ntowers; and, in the background, an unoccupied wing of the palace, which\ncedars overtop, making blacker masses above the darkness.\n\nThe guests, crowned with violets, lean upon their elbows on low-lying\ncouches. Beside each one are placed amphorae, from which they pour out\nwine; and, at the very end, by himself, adorned with the tiara and\ncovered with carbuncles, King Nebuchadnezzar is eating and drinking. To\nright and left of him, two theories of priests, with peaked caps, are\nswinging censers. Upon the ground are crawling captive kings, without\nfeet or hands, to whom he flings bones to pick. Further down stand his\nbrothers, with shades over their eyes, for they are perfectly blind.\n\nA constant lamentation ascends from the depths of the ergastula. The\nsoft and monotonous sounds of a hydraulic organ alternate with the\nchorus of voices; and one feels as if all around the hall there was an\nimmense city, an ocean of humanity, whose waves were beating against the\nwalls.\n\nThe slaves rush forward carrying plates. Women run about offering drink\nto the guests. The baskets groan under the load of bread, and a\ndromedary, laden with leathern bottles, passes to and fro, letting\nvervain trickle over the floor in order to cool it.\n\nBelluarii lead forth lions; dancing-girls, with their hair in ringlets,\nturn somersaults, while squirting fire through their nostrils;\nnegro-jugglers perform tricks; naked children fling snowballs, which, in\nfalling, crash against the shining silver plate. The clamour is so\ndreadful that it might be described as a tempest, and the steam of the\nviands, as well as the respirations of the guests, spreads, as it were,\na cloud over the feast. Now and then, flakes from the huge torches,\nsnatched away by the wind, traverse the night like flying stars.\n\nThe King wipes off the perfumes from his visage with his hand. He eats\nfrom the sacred vessels, and then breaks them, and he enumerates,\nmentally, his fleets, his armies, his peoples. Presently, through a\nwhim, he will burn his palace, along with his guests. He calculates on\nrebuilding the Tower of Babel, and dethroning God.\n\nAntony reads, at a distance, on his forehead, all his thoughts. They\ntake possession of himself--and he becomes Nebuchadnezzar.\n\nImmediately, he is satiated with conquests and exterminations; and a\nlonging seizes him to plunge into every kind of vileness. Moreover, the\ndegradation wherewith men are terrified is an outrage done to their\nsouls, a means still more of stupefying them; and, as nothing is lower\nthan a brute beast, Antony falls upon four paws on the table, and\nbellows like a bull.\n\nHe feels a pain in his hand--a pebble, as it happened, has hurt him--and\nhe again finds himself in his cell.\n\nThe rocky enclosure is empty. The stars are shining. All is silence.\n\n\"Once more I have been deceived. Why these things? They arise from the\nrevolts of the flesh! Ah! miserable man that I am!\"\n\nHe dashes into his cell, takes out of it a bundle of cords, with iron\nnails at the ends of them, strips himself to the waist, and raising his\neyes towards Heaven:\n\n\"Accept my penance, O my God! Do not despise it on account of its\ninsufficiency. Make it sharp, prolonged, excessive. It is time! To\nwork!\"\n\nHe proceeds to lash himself vigorously.\n\n\"Ah! no! no! No pity!\"\n\nHe begins again.\n\n\"Oh! Oh! Oh! Each stroke tears my skin, cuts my limbs. This smarts\nhorribly! Ah! it is not so terrible! One gets used to it. It seems to me\neven ...\"\n\nAntony stops.\n\n\"Come on, then, coward! Come on, then! Good! good! On the arms, on the\nback, on the breast, against the belly, everywhere! Hiss, thongs! bite\nme! tear me! I would like the drops of my blood to gush forth to the\nstars, to break my back, to strip my nerves bare! Pincers! wooden\nhorses! molten lead! The martyrs bore more than that! Is that not so,\nAmmonaria?\"\n\nThe shadows of the Devil's horns reappear.\n\n\"I might have been fastened to the pillar next to yours, face to face\nwith you, under your very eyes, responding to your shrieks with my\nsighs, and our griefs would blend into one, and our souls would\ncommingle.\"\n\nHe flogs himself furiously.\n\n\"Hold! hold! for your sake! once more! ... But this is a mere tickling\nthat passes through my frame. What torture! What delight! Those are like\nkisses. My marrow is melting! I am dying!\"\n\nAnd in front of him he sees three cavaliers, mounted on wild asses, clad\nin green garments, holding lilies in their hands, and all resembling one\nanother in figure.\n\nAntony turns back, and sees three other cavaliers of the same kind,\nmounted on similar wild asses, in the same attitude.\n\nHe draws back. Then the wild asses, all at the same time, step forward a\npace or two, and rub their snouts against him, trying to bite his\ngarment. Voices exclaim, \"This way! this way! Here is the place!\" And\nbanners appear between the clefts of the mountain, with camels' heads in\nhalters of red silk, mules laden with baggage, and women covered with\nyellow veils, mounted astride on piebald horses.\n\nThe panting animals lie down; the slaves fling themselves on the bales\nof goods, roll out the variegated carpets, and strew the ground with\nglittering objects.\n\nA white elephant, caparisoned with a fillet of gold, runs along, shaking\nthe bouquet of ostrich feathers attached to his head-band.\n\nOn his back, lying on cushions of blue wool, cross-legged, with eyelids\nhalf-closed and well-poised head, is a woman so magnificently attired\nthat she emits rays around her. The attendants prostrate themselves, the\nelephant bends his knees, and the Queen of Sheba, gliding down by his\nshoulder, steps lightly on the carpet and advances towards Antony. Her\nrobe of gold brocade, regularly divided by furbelows of pearls, jet and\nsapphires, is drawn tightly round her waist by a close-fitting corsage,\nset off with a variety of colours representing the twelve signs of the\nZodiac. She wears high-heeled pattens, one of which is black and strewn\nwith silver stars and a crescent, whilst the other is white and is\ncovered with drops of gold, with a sun in their midst.\n\nHer loose sleeves, garnished with emeralds and birds' plumes, exposes to\nview her little, rounded arms, adorned at the wrists with bracelets of\nebony; and her hands, covered with rings, are terminated by nails so\npointed that the ends of her fingers are almost like needles.\n\nA chain of plate gold, passing under her chin, runs along her cheeks\ntill it twists itself in spiral fashion around her head, over which blue\npowder is scattered; then, descending, it slips over her shoulders and\nis fastened above her bosom by a diamond scorpion, which stretches out\nits tongue between her breasts. From her ears hang two great white\npearls. The edges of her eyelids are painted black. On her left\ncheek-bone she has a natural brown spot, and when she opens her mouth\nshe breathes with difficulty, as if her bodice distressed her.\n\nAs she comes forward, she swings a green parasol with an ivory handle\nsurrounded by vermilion bells; and twelve curly negro boys carry the\nlong train of her robe, the end of which is held by an ape, who raises\nit every now and then.\n\nShe says:\n\n\"Ah! handsome hermit! handsome hermit! My heart is faint! By dint of\nstamping with impatience my heels have grown hard, and I have split one\nof my toe-nails. I sent out shepherds, who posted themselves on the\nmountains, with their bands stretched over their eyes, and searchers,\nwho cried out your name in the woods, and scouts, who ran along the\ndifferent roads, saying to each passer-by: 'Have you seen him?'\n\n\"At night I shed tears with my face turned to the wall. My tears, in the\nlong run, made two little holes in the mosaic-work--like pools of water\nin rocks--for I love you! Oh! yes; very much!\"\n\nShe catches his beard.\n\n\"Smile on me, then, handsome hermit! Smile on me, then! You will find I\nam very gay! I play on the lyre, I dance like a bee, and I can tell many\nstories, each one more diverting than the last.\n\n\"You cannot imagine what a long journey we have made. Look at the wild\nasses of the green-clad couriers--dead through fatigue!\"\n\nThe wild asses are stretched motionless on the ground.\n\n\"For three great moons they have journeyed at an even pace, with pebbles\nin their teeth to cut the wind, their tails always erect, their hams\nalways bent, and always in full gallop. You will not find their equals.\nThey came to me from my maternal grandfather, the Emperor Saharil, son\nof Jakhschab, son of Jaarab, son of Kastan. Ah! if they were still\nliving, we would put them under a litter in order to get home quickly.\nBut ... how now? ... What are you thinking of?\"\n\nShe inspects him.\n\n\"Ah! when you are my husband, I will clothe you, I will fling perfumes\nover you, I will pick out your hairs.\"\n\nAntony remains motionless, stiffer than a stake, pale as a corpse.\n\n\"You have a melancholy air: is it at quitting your cell? Why, I have\ngiven up everything for your sake--even King Solomon, who has, no doubt,\nmuch wisdom, twenty thousand war-chariots, and a lovely beard! I have\nbrought you my wedding presents. Choose.\"\n\nShe walks up and down between the row of slaves and the merchandise.\n\n\"Here is balsam of Genesareth, incense from Cape Gardefan, ladanum,\ncinnamon and silphium, a good thing to put into sauces. There are within\nAssyrian embroideries, ivories from the Ganges, and the purple cloth of\nElissa; and this case of snow contains a bottle of Chalybon, a wine\nreserved for the Kings of Assyria, which is drunk pure out of the horn\nof a unicorn. Here are collars, clasps, fillets, parasols, gold dust\nfrom Baasa, tin from Tartessus, blue wood from Pandion, white furs from\nIssidonia, carbuncles from the island of Palaesimundum, and tooth-picks\nmade with the hair of the tachas--an extinct animal found under the\nearth. These cushions are from Emathia, and these mantle-fringes from\nPalmyra. Under this Babylonian carpet there are ... but come, then!\nCome, then!\"\n\nShe pulls Saint Antony along by the beard. He resists. She goes on:\n\n\"This light tissue, which crackles under the fingers with the noise of\nsparks, is the famous yellow linen brought by the merchants from\nBactriana. They required no less than forty-three interpreters during\ntheir voyage. I will make garments of it for you, which you will put on\nat home.\n\n\"Press the fastenings of that sycamore box, and give me the ivory casket\nin my elephant's packing-case!\"\n\nThey draw out of a box some round objects covered with a veil, and bring\nher a little case covered with carvings.\n\n\"Would you like the buckler of Dgian-ben-Dgian, the builder of the\nPyramids? Here it is! It is composed of seven dragons' skins placed one\nabove another, joined by diamond screws, and tanned in the bile of a\nparricide. It represents, on one side, all the wars which have taken\nplace since the invention of arms, and, on the other, all the wars that\nwill take place till the end of the world. Above, the thunderbolt\nrebounds like a ball of cork. I am going to put it on your arm, and you\nwill carry it to the chase.\n\n\"But if you knew what I have in my little case! Try to open it! Nobody\nhas succeeded in doing that. Embrace me, and I will tell you.\"\n\nShe takes Saint Antony by the two cheeks. He repels her with\noutstretched arms.\n\n\"It was one night when King Solomon had lost his head. At length, we had\nconcluded a bargain. He arose, and, going out with the stride of a\nwolf ...\"\n\nShe dances a pirouette.\n\n\"Ah! ah! handsome hermit! you shall not know it! you shall not know it!\"\n\nShe shakes her parasol, and all the little bells begin to ring.\n\n\"I have many other things besides--there, now! I have treasures shut up\nin galleries, where they are lost as in a wood. I have summer palaces of\nlattice-reeds, and winter palaces of black marble. In the midst of\ngreat lakes, like seas, I have islands round as pieces of silver all\ncovered with mother-of-pearl, whose shores make music with the beating\nof the liquid waves that roll over the sand. The slaves of my kitchen\ncatch birds in my aviaries, and angle for fish in my ponds. I have\nengravers continually sitting to stamp my likeness on hard stones,\npanting workers in bronze who cast my statues, and perfumers who mix the\njuice of plants with vinegar and beat up pastes. I have dressmakers who\ncut out stuffs for me, goldsmiths who make jewels for me, women whose\nduty it is to select head-dresses for me, and attentive house-painters\npouring over my panellings boiling resin, which they cool with fans. I\nhave attendants for my harem, eunuchs enough to make an army. And then I\nhave armies, subjects! I have in my vestibule a guard of dwarfs,\ncarrying on their backs ivory trumpets.\"\n\nAntony sighs.\n\n\"I have teams of gazelles, quadrigae of elephants, hundreds of camels,\nand mares with such long manes that their feet get entangled with them\nwhen they are galloping, and flocks with such huge horns that the woods\nare torn down in front of them when they are pasturing. I have giraffes\nwho walk in my gardens, and who raise their heads over the edge of my\nroof when I am taking the air after dinner. Seated in a shell, and drawn\nby dolphins, I go up and down the grottoes, listening to the water\nflowing from the stalactites. I journey to the diamond country, where my\nfriends the magicians allow me to choose the most beautiful; then I\nascend to earth once more, and return home.\"\n\nShe gives a piercing whistle, and a large bird, descending from the sky,\nalights on the top of her head-dress, from which he scatters the blue\npowder. His plumage, of orange colour, seems composed of metallic\nscales. His dainty head, adorned with a silver tuft, exhibits a human\nvisage. He has four wings, a vulture's claws, and an immense peacock's\ntail, which he displays in a ring behind him. He seizes in his beak the\nQueen's parasol, staggers a little before he finds his equilibrium, then\nerects all his feathers, and remains motionless.\n\n\"Thanks, fair Simorg-anka! You who have brought me to the place where\nthe lover is concealed! Thanks! thanks! messenger of my heart! He flies\nlike desire. He travels all over the world. In the evening he returns;\nhe lies down at the foot of my couch; he tells me what he has seen, the\nseas he has flown over, with their fishes and their ships, the great\nempty deserts which he has looked down upon from his airy height in the\nskies, all the harvests bending in the fields, and the plants that shoot\nup on the walls of abandoned cities.\"\n\nShe twists her arms with a languishing air.\n\n\"Oh! if you were willing! if you were only willing! ... I have a pavilion\non a promontory, in the midst of an isthmus between two oceans. It is\nwainscotted with plates of glass, floored with tortoise-shells, and is\nopen to the four winds of Heaven. From above, I watch the return of my\nfleets and the people who ascend the hill with loads on their shoulders.\nWe should sleep on down softer than clouds; we should drink cool\ndraughts out of the rinds of fruit, and we gaze at the sun through a\ncanopy of emeralds. Come!\"\n\nAntony recoils. She draws close to him, and, in a tone of irritation:\n\n\"How so? Rich, coquettish, and in love?--is not that enough for you, eh?\nBut must she be lascivious, gross, with a hoarse voice, a head of hair\nlike fire, and rebounding flesh? Do you prefer a body cold as a\nserpent's skin, or, perchance, great black eyes more sombre than\nmysterious caverns? Look at these eyes of mine, then!\"\n\nAntony gazes at them, in spite of himself.\n\n\"All the women you ever have met, from the daughter of the cross-roads\nsinging beneath her lantern to the fair patrician scattering leaves from\nthe top of her litter, all the forms you have caught a glimpse of, all\nthe imaginings of your desire, ask for them! I am not a woman--I am a\nworld. My garments have but to fall, and you shall discover upon my\nperson a succession of mysteries.\"\n\nAntony's teeth chattered.\n\n\"If you placed your finger on my shoulder, it would be like a stream of\nfire in your veins. The possession of the least part of my body will\nfill you with a joy more vehement than the conquest of an empire. Bring\nyour lips near! My kisses have the taste of fruit which would melt in\nyour heart. Ah! how you will lose yourself in my tresses, caress my\nbreasts, marvel at my limbs, and be scorched by my eyes, between my\narms, in a whirlwind----\"\n\nAntony makes the sign of the Cross.\n\n\"So, then, you disdain me! Farewell!\"\n\nShe turns away weeping; then she returns.\n\n\"Are you quite sure? So lovely a woman?\"\n\nShe laughs, and the ape who holds the end of her robe lifts it up.\n\n\"You will repent, my fine hermit! you will groan; you will be sick of\nlife! but I will mock at you! la! la! la! oh! oh! oh!\"\n\nShe goes off with her hands on her waist, skipping on one foot.\n\nThe slaves file off before Saint Antony's face, together with the\nhorses, the dromedaries, the elephant, the attendants, the mules, once\nmore covered with their loads, the negro boys, the ape, and the\ngreen-clad couriers holding their broken lilies in their hands--and the\nQueen of Sheba departs, with a spasmodic utterance which might be either\na sob or a chuckle.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE DISCIPLE, HILARION.\n\n\nWhen she has disappeared, Antony perceives a child on the threshold of\nhis cell.\n\n\"It is one of the Queen's servants,\" he thinks.\n\nThis child is small, like a dwarf, and yet thickset, like one of the\nCabiri, distorted, and with a miserable aspect. White hair covers his\nprodigiously large head, and he shivers under a sorry tunic, while he\ngrasps in his hand a roll of papyrus. The light of the moon, across\nwhich a cloud is passing, falls upon him.\n\nAntony observes him from a distance, and is afraid of him.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nThe child replies:\n\n\"Your former disciple, Hilarion.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"You lie! Hilarion has been living for many years in\nPalestine.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"I have returned from it! It is I, in good sooth!\"\n\n_Antony_, draws closer and inspects him--\"Why, his figure was bright as\nthe dawn, open, joyous. This one is quite sombre, and has an aged\nlook.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"I am worn out with constant toiling.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"The voice, too, is different. It has a tone that chills you.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"That is because I nourish myself on bitter fare.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"And those white locks?\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"I have had so many griefs.\"\n\n_Antony_, aside--\"Can it be possible? ...\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"I was not so far away as you imagined. The hermit, Paul,\npaid you a visit this year during the month of Schebar. It is just\ntwenty days since the nomads brought you bread. You told a sailor the\nday before yesterday to send you three bodkins.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"He knows everything!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Learn, too, that I have never left you. But you spend long\nintervals without perceiving me.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"How is that? No doubt my head is troubled! To-night\nespecially ...\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"All the deadly sins have arrived. But their miserable\nsnares are of no avail against a saint like you!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Oh! no! no! Every minute I give way! Would that I were one of\nthose whose souls are always intrepid and their minds firm--like the\ngreat Athanasius, for example!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"He was unlawfully ordained by seven bishops!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What does it matter? If his virtue ...\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Come, now! A haughty, cruel man, always mixed up in\nintrigues, and finally exiled for being a monopolist.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Calumny!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"You will not deny that he tried to corrupt Eustatius, the\ntreasurer of the bounties?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"So it is stated, and I admit it.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"He burned, for revenge, the house of Arsenius.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Alas!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"At the Council of Nicaea, he said, speaking of Jesus, 'The\nman of the Lord.'\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Ah! that is a blasphemy!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"So limited is he, too, that he acknowledges he knows\nnothing as to the nature of the Word.\"\n\n_Antony_, smiling with pleasure--\"In fact, he has not a very lofty\nintellect.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"If they had put you in his place, it would have been a\ngreat satisfaction for your brethren, as well as yourself. This life,\napart from others, is a bad thing.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"On the contrary! Man, being a spirit, should withdraw himself\nfrom perishable things. All action degrades him. I would like not to\ncling to the earth--even with the soles of my feet.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Hypocrite! who plunges himself into solitude to free\nhimself the better from the outbreaks of his lusts! You deprive yourself\nof meat, of wine, of stoves, of slaves, and of honours; but how you let\nyour imagination offer you banquets, perfumes, naked women, and\napplauding crowds! Your chastity is but a more subtle kind of\ncorruption, and your contempt for the world is but the impotence of your\nhatred against it! This is the reason that persons like you are so\nlugubrious, or perhaps it is because they lack faith. The possession of\nthe truth gives joy. Was Jesus sad? He used to go about surrounded by\nfriends; He rested under the shade of the olive, entered the house of\nthe publican, multiplied the cups, pardoned the fallen woman, healing\nall sorrows. As for you, you have no pity, save for your own\nwretchedness. You are so much swayed by a kind of remorse, and by a\nferocious insanity, that you would repel the caress of a dog or the\nsmile of a child.\"\n\n_Antony_, bursts out sobbing--\"Enough! Enough! You move my heart too\nmuch.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Shake off the vermin from your rags! Get rid of your filth!\nYour God is not a Moloch who requires flesh as a sacrifice!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Still, suffering is blessed. The cherubim bend down to\nreceive the blood of confessors.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Then admire the Montanists! They surpass all the rest.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"But it is the truth of the doctrine that makes the martyr.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"How can he prove its excellence, seeing that he testifies\nequally on behalf of error?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Be silent, viper!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"It is not perhaps so difficult. The exhortations of\nfriends, the pleasure of outraging popular feeling, the oath they take,\na certain giddy excitement--a thousand things, in fact, go to help\nthem.\"\n\nAntony draws away from Hilarion. Hilarion follows him--\"Besides, this\nstyle of dying introduces great disorders. Dionysius, Cyprian, and\nGregory avoided it. Peter of Alexandria has disapproved of it; and the\nCouncil of Elvira ...\"\n\n_Antony_, stops his ears--\"I will listen to no more!\"\n\n_Hilarion_, raising his voice--\"Here you are again falling into your\nhabitual sin--laziness. Ignorance is the froth of pride. You say, 'My\nconviction is formed; why discuss the matter?' and you despise the\ndoctors, the philosophers, tradition, and even the text of the law, of\nwhich you know nothing. Do you think you hold wisdom in your hand?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"I am always hearing him! His noisy words fill my head.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"The endeavours to comprehend God are better than your\nmortifications for the purpose of moving him. We have no merit save our\nthirst for truth. Religion alone does not explain everything; and the\nsolution of the problems which you have ignored might render it more\nunassailable and more sublime. Therefore, it is essential for each man's\nsalvation that he should hold intercourse with his brethren--otherwise\nthe Church, the assembly of the faithful, would be only a word--and that\nhe should listen to every argument, and not disdain anything, or anyone.\nBalaam the soothsayer, AEschylus the poet, and the sybil of Cumae,\nannounced the Saviour. Dionysius the Alexandrian received from Heaven a\ncommand to read every book. Saint Clement enjoins us to study Greek\nliterature. Hermas was converted by the illusion of a woman that he\nloved!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What an air of authority! It appears to me that you are\ngrowing taller ...\"\n\nIn fact, Hilarion's height has progressively increased; and, in order\nnot to see him, Antony closes his eyes.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Make your mind easy, good hermit. Let us sit down here, on\nthis big stone, as of yore, when, at the break of day, I used to salute\nyou, addressing you as 'Bright morning star'; and you at once began to\ngive me instruction. It is not finished yet. The moon affords us\nsufficient light. I am all attention.\"\n\nHe has drawn forth a calamus from his girdle, and, cross-legged on the\nground, with his roll of papyrus in his hand, he raises his head towards\nAntony, who, seated beside him, keeps his forehead bent.\n\n\"Is not the word of God confirmed for us by the miracles? And yet the\nsorcerers of Pharaoh worked miracles. Other impostors could do the same;\nso here we may be deceived. What, then, is a miracle? An occurrence\nwhich seems to us outside the limits of Nature. But do we know all\nNature's powers? And, from the mere fact that a thing ordinarily does\nnot astonish us, does it follow that we comprehend it?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"It matters little; we must believe in the Scripture.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Saint Paul, Origen, and some others did not interpret it\nliterally; but, if we explain it allegorically, it becomes the heritage\nof a limited number of people, and the evidence of its truth vanishes.\nWhat are we to do, then?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Leave it to the Church.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Then the Scripture is useless?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Not at all. Although the Old Testament, I admit, has--well,\nobscurities ... But the New shines forth with a pure light.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"And yet the Angel of the Annunciation, in Matthew, appears\nto Joseph, whilst in Luke it is to Mary. The anointing of Jesus by a\nwoman comes to pass, according to the First Gospel, at the beginning of\nhis public life, but according to the three others, a few days before\nhis death. The drink which they offer him on the Cross is, in Matthew,\nvinegar and gall, in Mark, wine and myrrh. If we follow Luke and\nMatthew, the Apostles ought to take neither money nor bag--in fact, not\neven sandals or a staff; while in Mark, on the contrary, Jesus forbids\nthem to carry with them anything except sandals and a staff. Here is\nwhere I get lost ...\"\n\n_Antony_, in amazement--\"In fact ... in fact ...\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"At the contact of the woman with the issue of blood, Jesus\nturned round, and said, 'Who has touched me?' So, then, He did not know\nwho touched Him? That is opposed to the omniscience of Jesus. If the\ntomb was watched by guards, the women had not to worry themselves about\nan assistant to lift up the stone from the tomb. Therefore, there were\nno guards there--or rather, the holy women were not there at all. At\nEmmaues, He eats with His disciples, and makes them feel His wounds. It\nis a human body, a material object, which can be weighed, and which,\nnevertheless, passes through stone walls. Is this possible?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"It would take a good deal of time to answer you.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Why did He receive the Holy Ghost, although He was the Son?\nWhat need had He of baptism, if He were the Word? How could the Devil\ntempt Him--God?\n\n\"Have these thoughts never occurred to you?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Yes! often! Torpid or frantic, they dwell in my conscience. I\ncrush them out; they spring up again, they stifle me; and sometimes I\nbelieve that I am accursed.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Then you have nothing to do but to serve God?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"I have always need to adore Him.\"\n\nAfter a prolonged silence, Hilarion resumes:\n\n\"But apart from dogma, entire liberty of research is permitted us. Do\nyou wish to become acquainted with the hierarchy of Angels, the virtue\nof Numbers, the explanation of germs and metamorphoses?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Yes! yes! My mind is struggling to escape from its prison. It\nseems to me that, by gathering my forces, I shall be able to effect\nthis. Sometimes--even for an interval brief as a lightning-flash--I feel\nmyself, as it were, suspended in mid-air; then I fall back again!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"The secret which you are anxious to possess is guarded by\nsages. They live in a distant country, sitting under gigantic trees,\nrobed in white, and calm as gods. A warm atmosphere nourishes them. All\naround leopards stride through the plains. The murmuring of fountains\nmingles with the neighing of unicorns. You shall hear them; and the face\nof the Unknown shall be unveiled!\"\n\n_Antony_, sighing--\"The road is long and I am old!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Oh! oh! men of learning are not rare! There are some of\nthem even very close to you here! Let us enter!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE FIERY TRIAL.\n\n\nAnd Antony sees in front of him an immense basilica. The light projects\nitself from the lower end with the magical effect of a many-coloured\nsun. It lights up the innumerable heads of the multitude which fills the\nnave and surges between the columns towards the side-aisles, where one\ncan distinguish in the wooden compartments altars, beds, chainlets of\nlittle blue stones, and constellations painted on the walls.\n\nIn the midst of the crowd groups are stationed here and there; men\nstanding on stools are discoursing with lifted fingers; others are\npraying with arms crossed, or lying down on the ground, or singing\nhymns, or drinking wine. Around a table the faithful are carrying on the\nlove-feasts; martyrs are unswathing their limbs to show their wounds;\nold men, leaning on their staffs, are relating their travels.\n\nAmongst them are people from the country of the Germans, from Thrace,\nGaul, Scythia and the Indies--with snow on their beards, feathers in\ntheir hair, thorns in the fringes of their garments, sandals covered\nwith dust, and skins burnt by the sun. All costumes are mingled--mantles\nof purple and robes of linen, embroidered dalmatics, woollen jackets,\nsailors' caps and bishops' mitres. Their eyes gleam strangely. They have\nthe appearance of executioners or of eunuchs.\n\nHilarion advances among them. Antony, pressing against his shoulder,\nobserves them. He notices a great many women. Several of them are\ndressed like men, with their hair cut short. He is afraid of them.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"These are the Christian women who have converted their\nhusbands. Besides, the women are always for Jesus--even the\nidolaters--as witness Procula, the wife of Pilate, and Poppaea, the\nconcubine of Nero. Don't tremble any more! Come on!\"\n\nThere are fresh arrivals every moment.\n\nThey multiply; they separate, swift as shadows, all the time making a\ngreat uproar, or intermingling yells of rage, exclamations of love,\ncanticles, and upbraidings.\n\n_Antony_, in a low tone--\"What do they want?\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"The Lord said, 'I may still have to speak to you about many\nthings.' They possess those things.\"\n\nAnd he pushes him towards a throne of gold, five paces off, where,\nsurrounded by ninety-five disciples, all anointed with oil, pale and\nemaciated, sits the prophet Manes--beautiful as an archangel, motionless\nas a statue--wearing an Indian robe, with carbuncles in his plaited\nhair, a book of coloured pictures in his left hand, and a globe under\nhis right. The pictures represent the creatures who are slumbering in\nchaos. Antony bends forward to see him. Then Manes makes his globe\nrevolve, and, attuning his words to the music of a lyre, from which\nbursts forth crystalline sounds, he says:\n\n\"The celestial earth is at the upper extremity, the mortal earth at the\nlower. It is supported by two angels, the Splenditenens and the\nOmophorus, with six faces.\n\n\"At the summit of Heaven, the Impassible Divinity occupies the highest\nseat; underneath, face to face, are the Son of God and the Prince of\nDarkness.\n\n\"The darkness having made its way into His kingdom, God extracted from\nHis essence a virtue which produced the first man; and He surrounded him\nwith five elements. But the demons of darkness deprived him of one part,\nand that part is the soul.\n\n\"There is but one soul, spread through the universe, like the water of a\nstream divided into many channels. This it is that sighs in the wind,\ngrinds in the marble which is sawn, howls in the voice of the sea; and\nit sheds milky tears when the leaves are torn off the fig-tree.\n\n\"The souls that leave this world emigrate towards the stars, which are\nanimated beings.\"\n\nAntony begins to laugh:\n\n\"Ah! ah! what an absurd hallucination!\"\n\n_A man_, beardless, and of austere aspect--\"Why?\"\n\nAntony is about to reply. But Hilarion tells him in an undertone, that\nthis man is the mighty Origen; and Manes resumes:\n\n\"At first, they stay in the moon, where they are purified. After that,\nthey ascend to the sun.\"\n\n_Antony_, slowly--\"I know nothing to prevent us from believing it.\"\n\n_Manes_--\"The end of every creature is the liberation of the celestial\nray shut up in matter. It makes its escape more easily through perfumes,\nspices, the aroma of old wine, the light substances that resemble\nthought. But the actions of daily life withhold it. The murderer will be\nborn again in the body of a eunuch; he who slays an animal will become\nthat animal. If you plant a vine-tree, you will be fastened in its\nbranches. Food absorbs those who use it. Therefore, mortify yourselves!\nfast!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"They are temperate, as you see!\"\n\n_Manes_--\"There is a great deal of it in flesh-meats, less in herbs.\nBesides, the Pure, by the force of their merits, despoil vegetables of\nthat luminous spark, and it flies towards its source. The animals, by\ngeneration, imprison it in the flesh. Therefore, avoid women!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Admire their countenance!\"\n\n_Manes_--\"Or, rather, act so well that they may not be prolific. It is\nbetter for the soul to sink on the earth than to languish in carnal\nfetters.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Ah! abomination!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"What matters the hierarchy of iniquities? The Church has\ndone well to make marriage a sacrament!\"\n\n_Saturninus_, in Syrian costume--\"He propagates a dismal order of\nthings! The Father, in order to punish the rebel angels, commanded them\nto create the world. Christ came in order that the God of the Jews, who\nwas one of those angels----\"\n\n_Antony_--\"An angel? He! the Creator?\"\n\n_Gerdon_--\"Did He not desire to kill Moses and deceive the prophets? and\ndid He not lead the people astray, spreading lying and idolatry?\"\n\n_Marcion_--\"Certainly, the Creator is not the true God!\"\n\n_Saint Clement of Alexandria_--\"Matter is eternal!\"\n\n_Bardesanes_, as one of the Babylonian Magi--\"It was formed by the seven\nplanetary spirits.\"\n\n_The Hernians_--\"The angels have made the souls!\"\n\n_The Priscillianists_--\"The world was made by the Devil.\"\n\n_Antony_, falls backward--\"Horror!\"\n\n_Hilarion_, holding him up--\"You drive yourself to despair too quickly!\nYou don't rightly comprehend their doctrine. Here is one who has\nreceived his from Theodas, the friend of Saint Paul. Hearken to him!\"\n\nAnd, at a signal from Hilarion, Valentinus, in a tunic of silver cloth,\nwith a hissing voice and a pointed skull, cries:\n\n\"The world is the work of a delirious God!\"\n\n_Antony_, hangs down his head--\"The work of a delirious God!\"\n\nAfter a long silence:\n\n\"How is that?\"\n\n_Valentinus_--\"The most perfect of the AEons, the Abysm, reposed on the\nbosom of Profundity together with Thought. From their union sprang\nIntelligence, who had for his consort Truth.\n\n\"Intelligence and Truth engendered the Word and Life, which in their\nturn engendered Man and the Church; and this makes eight AEons.\"\n\nHe reckons on his fingers:\n\n\"The Word and Truth produced ten other AEons, that is to say, five\ncouples. Man and the Church produced twelve others, amongst whom were\nthe Paraclete and Faith, Hope and Charity, Perfection and Wisdom,\nSophia.\n\n\"The entire of those thirty AEons constitutes the Pleroma, or\nUniversality of God. Thus, like the echoes of a voice that is dying\naway, like the exhalations of a perfume that is evaporating, like the\nfires of a sun that is setting, the Powers that have emanated from the\nHighest Powers are always growing feeble.\n\n\"But Sophia, desirous of knowing the Father, rushed out of the Pleroma;\nand the Word then made another pair, Christ and the Holy Ghost, who\nbound together all the AEons, and all together they formed Jesus, the\nflower of the Pleroma. Meanwhile, the effort of Sophia to escape had\nleft in the void an image of her, an evil substance, Acharamoth. The\nSaviour took pity on her, and delivered her from her passions; and from\nthe smile of Acharamoth on being set free Light was born; her tears made\nthe waters, and her sadness engendered gloomy Matter. From Acharamoth\nsprang the Demiurge, the fabricator of the worlds, the heavens, and the\nDevil. He dwells much lower down than the Pleroma, without even\nbeholding it, so that he imagines he is the true God, and repeats\nthrough the mouths of his prophets: 'Besides me there is no God.' Then\nhe made man, and cast into his soul the immaterial seed, which was the\nChurch, the reflection of the other Church placed in the Pleroma.\n\n\"Acharamoth, one day, having reached the highest region, shall unite\nwith the Saviour; the fire hidden in the world shall annihilate all\nmatter, shall then consume itself, and men, having become pure spirits,\nshall espouse the angels!\"\n\n_Origen_--\"Then the Demon shall be conquered, and the reign of God shall\nbegin!\"\n\nAntony represses an exclamation, and immediately Basilides, catching him\nby the elbow:\n\n\"The Supreme Being, with his infinite emanations, is called Abraxas, and\nthe Saviour with all his virtues, Kaulakau, otherwise rank-upon-rank,\nrectitude-upon-rectitude. The power of Kaulakau is obtained by the aid\nof certain words inscribed on this calcedony to facilitate memory.\"\n\nAnd he shows on his neck a little stone on which fantastic lines are\nengraved.\n\n\"Then you shall be transported into the invisible; and, unfettered by\nlaw, you shall despise everything, including virtue itself. As for us,\nthe Pure, we must avoid sorrow, after the example of Kaulakau.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What! and the Cross?\"\n\nThe Elkhesaites, in hyacinthine robes, reply to him:\n\n\"The sadness, the vileness, the condemnation, and the oppression of my\nfathers are effaced, thanks to the new Gospel. We may deny the inferior\nChrist, the man-Jesus; but we must adore the other Christ generated in\nhis person under the wing of the Dove. Honour marriage! The Holy Spirit\nis feminine!\"\n\nHilarion has disappeared; and Antony, pressed forward by the crowd,\nfinds himself facing the Carpocratians, stretched with women upon\nscarlet cushions:\n\n\"Before re-entering the centre of unity, you will have to pass through a\nseries of conditions and actions. In order to free yourself from the\nPowers of Darkness, do their works for the present! The husband goes to\nhis wife and says, 'Act with charity towards your brother,' and she will\nkiss you.\"\n\nThe Nicolaites, assembled around a smoking dish:\n\n\"This is meat offered to idols; let us take it! Apostacy is permitted\nwhen the heart is pure. Glut your flesh with what it asks for. Try to\ndestroy it by means of debaucheries. Prounikos, the mother of Heaven,\nwallows in iniquity.\"\n\nThe Marcosians, with rings of gold and dripping with balsam:\n\n\"Come to us, in order to be united with the Spirit! Come to us, in order\nto drink immortality!\"\n\nAnd one of them points out to him, behind some tapestry, the body of a\nman with an ass's head. This represents Sabaoth, the father of the\nDevil. As a mark of hatred he spits upon it.\n\nAnother discloses a very low bed strewn with flowers, saying as he does\nso:\n\n\"The spiritual nuptials are about to be consummated.\"\n\nA third holds forth a goblet of glass while he utters an invocation.\nBlood appears in it:\n\n\"Ah! there it is! there it is! the blood of Christ!\"\n\nAntony turns aside; but he is splashed by the water, which leaps out of\na tub.\n\nThe Helvidians cast themselves into it head foremost, muttering:\n\n\"Man regenerated by baptism is incapable of sin!\"\n\nThen he passes close to a great fire, where the Adamites are warming\nthemselves completely naked to imitate the purity of Paradise; and he\njostles up against the Messalians wallowing on the stone floor\nhalf-asleep, stupid:\n\n\"Oh! run over us, if you like; we shall not budge! Work is a sin; all\noccupation is evil!\"\n\nBehind those, the abject Paternians, men, women, and children,\npell-mell, on a heap of filth, lift up their hideous faces, besmeared\nwith wine:\n\n\"The inferior parts of the body, having been made by the Devil, belong\nto him. Let us eat, drink, and enjoy!\"\n\n_AEtius_--\"Crimes come from the need here below of the love of God!\"\n\nBut all at once a man, clad in a Carthaginian mantle, jumps among them,\nwith a bundle of thongs in his hand; and striking at random to right and\nleft of him violently:\n\n\"Ah! imposters, brigands, simoniacs, heretics, and demons! the vermin of\nthe schools! the dregs of Hell! This fellow here, Marcion, is a sailor\nfrom Sinope excommunicated for incest. Carpocras has been banished as a\nmagician; AEtius has stolen his concubine; Nicolas prostituted his own\nwife; and Manes, who describes himself as the Buddha, and whose name is\nCubricus, was flayed with the sharp end of a cane, so that his tanned\nskin swings at the gates of Ctesiphon.\"\n\nAntony has recognised Tertullian, and rushes forward to meet him.\n\n\"Help, master! help!\"\n\n_Tertullian_, continuing--\"Break the images! Veil the virgins! Pray,\nfast, weep, mortify yourselves! No philosophy! no books! After Jesus,\nscience is useless!\"\n\nAll have fled; and Antony sees, instead of Tertullian, a woman seated on\na stone bench. She sobs, her head resting against a pillar, her hair\nhanging down, and her body wrapped in a long brown simar.\n\nThen they find themselves close to each other far from the crowd; and a\nsilence, an extraordinary peacefulness, ensues, such as one feels in a\nwood when the wind ceases and the leaves flutter no longer. This woman\nis very beautiful, though faded and pale as death. They stare at each\nother, and their eyes mutually exchange a flood of thoughts, as it were,\na thousand memories of the past, bewildering and profound. At last\nPriscilla begins to speak:\n\n\"I was in the lowest chamber of the baths, and I was lulled to sleep by\nthe confused murmurs that reached me from the streets. All at once I\nheard loud exclamations. The people cried, 'It is a magician! it is the\nDevil!' And the crowd stopped in front of our house opposite to the\nTemple of AEsculapius. I raised myself with my wrists to the height of\nthe air-hole. On the peristyle of the temple was a man with an iron\ncollar around his neck. He placed lighted coals on a chafing-dish, and\nwith them made large furrows on his breast, calling out, 'Jesus! Jesus!'\nThe people said, 'That is not lawful! let us stone him!' But he did not\ndesist. The things that were occurring were unheard of, astounding.\nFlowers, large as the sun, turned around before my eyes, and I heard a\nharp of gold vibrating in mid-air. The day sank to its close. My arms\nlet go the iron bars; my strength was exhausted; and when he bore me\naway to his house--\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Whom are you talking about?\"\n\n_Priscilla_--\"Why, of Montanus!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"But Montanus is dead.\"\n\n_Priscilla_--\"That is not true.\"\n\n_A voice_--\"No, Montanus is not dead!\"\n\nAntony comes back; and near him, on the other side upon a bench, a\nsecond woman is seated--this one being fair, and paler still, with\nswellings under her eyelids, as if she had been a long time weeping.\nWithout waiting for him to question her, she says:\n\n_Maximilla_--\"We were returning from Tarsus by the mountains, when, at a\nturn of the road, we saw a man under a fig-tree. He cried from a\ndistance, 'Stop!' and he sprang forward, pouring out abuse on us. The\nslaves rushed up to protect us. He burst out laughing. The horses\npranced. The mastiffs all began to howl. He was standing up. The\nperspiration fell down his face. The wind made his cloak flap.\n\n\"While addressing us by name, he reproached us for the vanity of our\nactions, the impurity of our bodies; and he raised his fist towards the\ndromedaries on account of the silver bells which they wore under their\njaws. His fury filled my very entrails with terror; nevertheless, it was\na voluptuous sensation, which soothed, intoxicated me. At first, the\nslaves drew near. 'Master,' said they, 'our beasts are fatigued'; then\nthere were the women: 'We are frightened'; and the slaves ran away.\nAfter that, the children began to cry, 'We are hungry.' And, as no\nanswer was given to the women, they disappeared. And now he began to\nspeak. I perceived that there was some one close beside me. It was my\nhusband: I listened to the other. The first crawled between the stones,\nexclaiming, 'Do you abandon me?' and I replied, 'Yes! begone!' in order\nto accompany Montanus.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"A eunuch!\"\n\n_Priscilla_--\"Ah! coarse heart, you are astonished at this! Yet\nMagdalen, Jane, Martha and Susanna did not enter the couch of the\nSaviour. Souls can be madly embraced more easily than bodies. In order\nto retain Eustolia with impunity, the Bishop Leontius mutilated\nhimself--cherishing his love more than his virility. And, then, it is\nnot my own fault. A spirit compels me to do it; Eotas cannot cure me.\nNevertheless, he is cruel. What does it matter? I am the last of the\nprophetesses; and, after me, the end of the world will come.\"\n\n_Maximilla_--\"He has loaded me with his gifts. None of the others loved\nme so much, nor is any of them better loved.\"\n\n_Priscilla_--\"You lie! I am the person he loves!\"\n\n_Maximilla_--\"No: it is I!\"\n\nThey fight.\n\nBetween their shoulders appears a negro's head.\n\n_Montanus_, covered with a black cloak, fastened by two dead men's\nbones:\n\n\"Be quiet, my doves! Incapable of terrestrial happiness, we by this\nunion attain to spiritual plenitude. After the age of the Father, the\nage of the Son; and I inaugurate the third, that of the Paraclete. His\nlight came to me during the forty nights when the heavenly Jerusalem\nshone in the firmament above my house at Pepuza.\n\n\"Ah! how you cry out with anguish when the thongs flagellate you! How\nyour aching limbs offer themselves to my burning caresses! How you\nlanguish upon my breast with an inconceivable love! It is so strong that\nit has revealed new worlds to you, and you can now behold spirits with\nyour mortal eyes.\"\n\nAntony makes a gesture of astonishment.\n\n_Tertullian_, coming up close to Montanus--\"No doubt, since the soul has\na body, that which has no body exists not.\"\n\n_Montanus_--\"In order to render it less material I have introduced\nnumerous mortifications--three Lents every year, and, for each night,\nprayers, in saying which the mouth is kept closed, for fear the breath,\nin escaping, should sully the mental act. It is necessary to abstain\nfrom second marriages--or, rather, from marriage altogether! The angels\nsinned with women.\"\n\nThe Archontics, in hair-shirts:\n\n\"The Saviour said, 'I came to destroy the work of the woman.'\"\n\nThe Tatianists, in hair-cloths of rushes:\n\n\"She is the tree of evil! Our bodies are the garments of skin.\"\n\nAnd, ever advancing on the same side, Antony encounters the Valesians,\nstretched on the ground, with red plates below their stomachs, beneath\ntheir tunics.\n\nThey present to him a knife.\n\n\"Do like Origen and like us! Is it the pain you fear, coward? Is it the\nlove of your flesh that restrains you, hypocrite?\"\n\nAnd while he watches them struggling, extended on their backs swimming\nin their own blood, the Cainites, with their hair fastened by vipers,\npass close to him, shouting in his ears:\n\n\"Glory to Cain! Glory to Sodom! Glory to Judas!\n\n\"Cain begot the race of the strong; Sodom terrified the earth with its\nchastisement, and it is through Judas that God saved the world! Yes,\nJudas! without him no death and no Redemption!\"\n\nThey pass out through the band of Circoncellions, clad in wolf-skin,\ncrowned with thorns, and carrying iron clubs.\n\n\"Crush the fruit! Attack the fountain-head! Drown the child! Plunder the\nrich man who is happy, and who eats overmuch! Strike down the poor man\nwho casts an envious glance at the ass's saddle-cloth, the dog's meal,\nthe bird's nest, and who is grieved at not seeing others as miserable as\nhimself.\n\n\"As for us--the Saints--in order to hasten the end of the world, we\npoison, burn, massacre. The only salvation is in martyrdom. We give\nourselves up to martyrdom. We take off with pincers the skin of our\nheads; we spread our limbs under the ploughs; we cast ourselves into the\nmouths of furnaces. Shame on baptism! Shame on the Eucharist! Shame on\nmarriage! Universal damnation!\"\n\nThen, throughout the basilica, there is a fresh accession of frenzy. The\nAudians draw arrows against the Devil; the Collyridians fling blue veils\nto the ceiling; the Ascitians prostrate themselves before a wineskin;\nthe Marcionites baptise a corpse with oil. Close beside Appelles, a\nwoman, the better to explain her idea, shows a round loaf of bread in a\nbottle; another, surrounded by the Sampsians, distributes like a host\nthe dust of her sandals. On the bed of the Marcosians, strewn with\nroses, two lovers embrace each other. The Circoncellions cut one\nanother's throats; the Velesians make a rattling sound; Bardesanes\nsings; Carpocras dances; Maximilla and Priscilla utter loud groans; and\nthe false prophetess of Cappadocia, quite naked, resting on a lion and\nbrandishing three torches, yells forth the Terrible Invocation.\n\nThe pillars are poised like trunks of trees; the amulets round the necks\nof the Heresiarchs have lines of flame crossing each other; the\nconstellations in the chapels move to and fro, and the walls recede\nunder the alternate motion of the crowd, in which every head is a wave\nwhich leaps and roars.\n\nMeanwhile, from the very depths of the uproar rises a song with bursts\nof laughter, in which the name of Jesus recurs. These outbursts come\nfrom the common people, who all clap their hands in order to keep time\nwith the music. In the midst of them is Arius, in the dress of a deacon:\n\n\"The fools who declaim against me pretend to explain the absurd; and, in\norder to destroy them entirely, I have composed little poems so comical\nthat they are known by heart in the mills, the taverns, and the ports.\n\n\"A thousand times no! the Son is not co-eternal with the Father, nor of\nthe same substance. Otherwise He would not have said, 'Father, remove\nfrom Me this chalice! Why do ye call Me good? God alone is good! I go to\nmy God, to your God!' and other expressions, proving that He was a\ncreated being. It is demonstrated to us besides by all His names: lamb,\nshepherd, fountain, wisdom, Son of Man, prophet, good way,\ncorner-stone.\"\n\n_Sabellius_--\"As for me, I maintain that both are identical.\"\n\n_Arius_--\"The Council of Antioch has decided the other way.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Who, then, is the Word? Who was Jesus?\"\n\n_The Valentinians_--\"He was the husband of Acharamoth when she had\nrepented!\"\n\n_The Sethianians_--\"He was Sem, son of Noah!\"\n\n_The Theodotians_--\"He was Melchisidech!\"\n\n_The Merinthians_--\"He was nothing but a man!\"\n\n_The Apollonarists_--\"He assumed the appearance of one! He simulated the\nPassion!\"\n\n_Marcellus of Ancyra_--\"He is a development of the Father!\"\n\n_Pope Calixtus_--\"Father and Son are the two forms of a single God!\"\n\n_Methadius_--\"He was first in Adam, and then in man!\"\n\n_Cerinthus_--\"And He will come back to life again!\"\n\n_Valentinus_--\"Impossible--His body is celestial.\"\n\n_Paul of Samosta_--\"He is God only since His baptism.\"\n\n_Hermogenes_--\"He dwells in the sun.\"\n\nAnd all the heresiarchs form a circle around Antony, who weeps, with his\nhead in his hands.\n\nA Jew, with red beard, and his skin spotted with leprosy, advances close\nto him, and chuckling horribly:\n\n\"His soul was the soul of Esau. He suffered from the disease of\nBellerophon; and his mother, the woman who sold perfumes, surrendered\nherself to Pantherus, a Roman soldier, under the corn-sheaves, one\nharvest evening.\"\n\nAntony eagerly lifts up his head, and gazes at them without uttering a\nword; then, treading right over them:\n\n\"Doctors, magicians, bishops and deacons, men and phantoms, back! back!\nYe are all lies!\"\n\n_The Heresiarchs_--\"We have martyrs, more martyrs than yours, prayers\nmore difficult, higher outbursts of love, and ecstasies quite as\nprotracted.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"But no revelation. No proofs.\"\n\nThen all brandish in the air rolls of papyrus, tablets of wood, pieces\nof leather; and strips of cloth; and pushing them one before the other:\n\n_The Corinthians_--\"Here is the Gospel of the Hebrews!\"\n\n_The Marcionites_--\"The Gospel of the Lord! The Gospel of Eve!\"\n\n_The Encratites_--\"The Gospel of Thomas!\"\n\n_The Cainites_--\"The Gospel of Judas!\"\n\n_Basilides_--\"The treatise of the spirit that has come!\"\n\n_Manes_--\"The prophecy of Barcouf!\"\n\nAntony makes a struggle and escapes them, and he perceives, in a corner\nfilled with shadows, the old Ebionites, dried up like mummies, their\nglances dull, their eyebrows white.\n\nThey speak in a quavering tone:\n\n\"We have known, we ourselves have known, the carpenter's son. We were of\nhis own age; we lived in his street. He used to amuse himself by\nmodelling little birds with mud; without being afraid of cutting the\nbenches, he assisted his father in his work, or rolled up, for his\nmother, balls of dyed wool. Then he made a journey into Egypt, whence he\nbrought back wonderful secrets. We were in Jericho when he discovered\nthe eater of grasshoppers. They talked together in a low tone, without\nanyone being able to hear them. But it was since that occurrence that he\nmade a noise in Galilee and that many stories have been circulated\nconcerning him.\"\n\nThey repeat, tremulously:\n\n\"We have known, we ourselves; we have known him.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"One moment! Tell me! pray tell me, what was his face like?\"\n\n_Tertullian_--\"Fierce and repulsive in its aspect; for he was laden with\nall the crimes, all the sorrows, and all the deformities of the world.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Oh! no! no! I imagine, on the contrary, that there was about\nhis entire person a superhuman beauty.\"\n\n_Eusebius of Caesarea_--\"There is at Paneadae, close to an old ruin, in\nthe midst of a rank growth of weeds, a statue of stone, raised, as it is\npretended, by the woman with the issue of blood. But time has gnawed\naway the face, and the rain has obliterated the inscription.\"\n\nA woman comes forth from the group of Carpocratians.\n\n_Marcellina_--\"I was formerly a deaconess in a little church at Rome,\nwhere I used to show the faithful images, in silver, of St. Paul, Homer,\nPythagoras and Jesus Christ.\n\n\"I have kept only his.\"\n\nShe draws aside the folds of her cloak.\n\n\"Do you wish it?\"\n\n_A voice_--\"He reappears himself when we invoke him. It is the hour.\nCome!\"\n\nAnd Antony feels a brutal hand laid on him, which drags him along.\n\nHe ascends a staircase in complete darkness, and, after proceeding for\nsome time, arrives in front of a door. Then his guide (is it Hilarion?\nhe cannot tell) says in the ear of a third person, \"The Lord is about to\ncome,\"--and they are introduced into an apartment with a low ceiling and\nno furniture. What strikes him at first is, opposite him, a long\nchrysalis of the colour of blood, with a man's head, from which rays\nescape, and the word _Knouphis_ written in Greek all around. It rises\nabove a shaft of a column placed in the midst of a pedestal. On the\nother walls of the apartment, medallions of polished brass represent\nheads of animals--that of an ox, of a lion, of an eagle, of a dog, and\nagain, an ass's head! The argil lamps, suspended below these images,\nshed a flickering light. Antony, through a hole in the wall, perceives\nthe moon, which shines far away on the waves, and he can even\ndistinguish their monotonous ripple, with the dull sound of a ship's\nkeel striking against the stones of a pier.\n\nMen, squatting on the ground, their faces hidden beneath their cloaks,\ngive vent at intervals to a kind of stifled barking. Women are sleeping,\nwith their foreheads clasped by both arms, which are supported by their\nknees, so completely shrouded by their veils that one would say they\nwere heaps of clothes arranged along the wall. Beside them, children,\nhalf-naked, and half devoured with vermin, watch the lamps burning, with\nan idiotic air;--and they are doing nothing; they are awaiting\nsomething.\n\nThey speak in low voices about their families, or communicate to one\nanother remedies for their diseases. Many of them are going to embark at\nthe end of the day, the persecution having become too severe. The\nPagans, however, are not hard to deceive. \"They believe, the fools, that\nwe adore Knouphis!\"\n\nBut one of the brethren, suddenly inspired, places himself in front of\nthe column, where they have laid a loaf of bread, which is on the top of\na basket full of fennel and hartwort.\n\nThe others have taken their places, forming, as they stand, three\nparallel lines.\n\nThe inspired one unrolls a paper covered with cylinders joined together,\nand then begins:\n\n\"Upon the darkness the ray of the Word descended, and a violent cry\nburst forth, which seemed like the voice of light.\"\n\nAll responding, while they sway their bodies to and fro:\n\n\"Kyrie eleison!\"\n\n_The inspired one_--\"Man, then, was created by the infamous God of\nIsrael, with the assistance of those here,\"--pointing towards the\nmedallions--\"Aristophaios, Oraios, Sabaoth, Adonai, Eloi and Iao!\n\n\"And he lay on the mud, hideous, feeble, shapeless, without the power of\nthought.\"\n\nAll, in a plaintive tone:\n\n\"Kyrie eleison!\"\n\n_The inspired one_--\"But Sophia, taking pity on him, quickened him with\na portion of her spirit. Then, seeing man so beautiful, God was seized\nwith anger, and imprisoned him in His kingdom, interdicting him from the\ntree of knowledge. Still, once more, the other one came to his aid. She\nsent the serpent, who, with its sinuous advances, prevailed on him to\ndisobey this law of hate. And man, when he had tasted knowledge,\nunderstood heavenly matters.\"\n\nAll, with energy:\n\n\"Kyrie eleison!\"\n\n_The inspired one_--\"But Jaldalaoth, in order to be revenged, plunged\nman into matter, and the serpent along with him!\"\n\nAll, in very low tones:\n\n\"Kyrie eleison!\"\n\nThey close their mouths and then become silent.\n\nThe odours of the harbour mingle in the warm air with the smoke of the\nlamps. Their wicks, spluttering, are on the point of being extinguished,\nand long mosquitoes flutter around them. Antony gasps with anguish. He\nhas the feeling that some monstrosity is floating around him--the horror\nof a crime about to be perpetrated.\n\nBut the inspired one, stamping with his feet, snapping his fingers,\ntossing his head, sings a psalm, with a wild refrain, to the sound of\ncymbals and of a shrill flute:\n\n\"Come! come! come! come forth from thy cavern!\n\n\"Swift One, that runs without feet, captor that takes without hands!\nSinuous as the waves, round as the sun, darkened with spots of gold;\nlike the firmament, strewn with stars! like the twistings of the\nvine-tree and the windings of entrails!\n\n\"Unbegotten! earth-devourer! ever young! perspicacious! honoured at\nEpidaurus! good for men! who cured King Ptolemy, the soldiers of Moses,\nand Glaucus, son of Minos!\n\n\"Come! come! come! come forth from thy cavern!\"\n\nAll repeat:\n\n\"Come! come! come! come forth from thy cavern!\"\n\nHowever, there is no manifestation.\n\n\"Why, what is the matter with him?\"\n\nThey proceed to deliberate, and to make suggestions. One old man offers\na clump of grass. Then there is a rising in the basket. The green herbs\nare agitated; the flowers fall, and the head of a python appears.\n\nHe passes slowly over the edge of the loaf, like a circle turning round\na motionless disc; then he develops, lengthens; he becomes of enormous\nweight. To prevent him from grazing the ground, the men support him with\ntheir breasts, the women with their heads, and the children with the\ntips of their fingers; and his tail, emerging through the hole in the\nwall, stretches out indefinitely, even to the depths of the sea. His\nrings unfold themselves, and fill the apartment. They wind themselves\nround Antony.\n\nThe Faithful, pressing their mouths against his skin, snatch the bread\nwhich he has nibbled.\n\n\"It is thou! it is thou!\n\n\"Raised at first by Moses, crushed by Ezechias, re-established by the\nMessiah. He drank thee in the waters of baptism; but thou didst quit him\nin the Garden of Olives, and then he felt all his weakness.\n\n\"Writhing on the bar of the Cross, and higher than his head, slavering\nabove the crown of thorns, thou didst behold him dying; for thou art\nJesus! yes, thou art the Word! thou art the Christ!\"\n\nAntony swoons in horror, and falls in his cell, upon the splinters of\nwood, where the torch, which had slipped from his hand, is burning\nmildly. This commotion causes him to half-open his eyes; and he\nperceives the Nile, undulating and clear, under the light of the moon,\nlike a great serpent in the midst of the sands--so much so that the\nhallucination again takes possession of him. He has not quitted the\nOphites; they surround him, address him by name, carry off baggages, and\ndescend towards the port. He embarks along with them.\n\nA brief period of time flows by. Then the vault of a prison encircles\nhim. In front of him, iron bars make black lines upon a background of\nblue; and at its sides, in the shade, are people weeping and praying,\nsurrounded by others who are exhorting and consoling them.\n\nWithout, one is attracted by the murmuring of a crowd, as well as by the\nsplendour of a summer's day. Shrill voices are crying out watermelons,\nwater, iced drinks, and cushions of grass to sit down on. From time to\ntime, shouts of applause burst forth. He observes people walking on\ntheir heads.\n\nSuddenly, comes a continuous roaring, strong and cavernous, like the\nnoise of water in an aqueduct: and, opposite him, he perceives, behind\nthe bars of another cage, a lion, who is walking up and down; then a row\nof sandals, of naked legs, and of purple fringes.\n\nOverhead, groups of people, ranged symmetrically, widen out from the\nlowest circle, which encloses the arena, to the highest, where masts\nhave been raised to support a veil of hyacinth hung in the air on ropes.\nStaircases, which radiate towards the centre, intersect, at equal\ndistances, those great circles of stone. Their steps disappear from\nview, owing to the vast audience seated there--knights, senators,\nsoldiers, common people, vestals and courtesans, in woollen hoods, in\nsilk maniples, in tawny tunics with aigrettes of precious stones, tufts\nof feathers and lictors' rods; and all this assemblage, muttering,\nexclaiming, tumultuous and frantic, stuns him like an immense tub\nboiling over. In the midst of the arena, upon an altar, smokes a vessel\nof incense.\n\nThe people who surround him are Christians, delivered up to the wild\nbeasts. The men wear the red cloak of the high-priests of Saturn, the\nwomen the fillets of Ceres. Their friends distribute fragments of their\ngarments and rings. In order to gain admittance into the prison, they\nrequire, they say, a great deal of money; but what does it matter? They\nwill remain till the end.\n\nAmongst these consolers Antony observes a bald man in a black tunic, a\nportion of whose face is plainly visible. He discourses with them on the\nnothingness of the world, and the happiness of the Elect. Antony is\nfilled with transports of Divine love. He longs for the opportunity of\nsacrificing his life for the Saviour, not knowing whether he is himself\none of these martyrs. But, save a Phrygian, with long hair, who keeps\nhis arms raised, they all have a melancholy aspect. An old man is\nsobbing on a bench, and a young man, who is standing, is musing with\ndowncast eyes.\n\nThe old man has refused to pay tribute at the angle of a cross-road,\nbefore a statue of Minerva; and he regards his companions with a look\nwhich signifies:\n\n\"You ought to succour me! Communities sometimes make arrangements by\nwhich they might be left in peace. Many amongst you have even obtained\nletters falsely declaring that you have offered sacrifice to idols.\"\n\nHe asks:\n\n\"Is it not Peter of Alexandria who has regulated what one ought to do\nwhen one is overcome by tortures?\"\n\nThen, to himself:\n\n\"Ah! this is very hard at my age! my infirmities render me so feeble!\nPerchance, I might have lived to another winter!\"\n\nThe recollection of his little garden moves him to tears; and he\ncontemplates the side of the altar.\n\nThe young man, who had disturbed by violence a feast of Apollo, murmurs:\n\n\"My only chance was to fly to the mountains!\"\n\n\"The soldiers would have caught you,\" says one of the brethren.\n\n\"Oh! I could have done like Cyprian; I should have come back; and the\nsecond time I should have had more strength, you may be sure!\"\n\nThen he thinks of the countless days he should have lived, with all the\npleasures which he will not have known;--and he, likewise, contemplates\nthe side of the altar.\n\nBut the man in the black tunic rushes up to him:\n\n\"How scandalous! What? You a victim of election? Think of all these\nwomen who are looking at you! And then, God sometimes performs a\nmiracle. Pionius benumbed the hands of his executioners; and the blood\nof Polycarp extinguished the flames of his funeral-pile.\"\n\nHe turns towards the old man. \"Father, father! You ought to edify us by\nyour death. By deferring it, you will, without doubt, commit some bad\naction which will destroy the fruit of your good deeds. Besides, the\npower of God is infinite. Perhaps your example will convert the entire\npeople.\"\n\nAnd, in the den opposite, the lions stride up and down, without\nstopping, rapidly, with a continuous movement. The largest of them all\nat once fixes his eyes on Antony and emits a roar, and a mass of vapour\nissues from his jaws.\n\nThe women are jammed up against the men.\n\nThe consoler goes from one to another:\n\n\"What would ye say--what would any of you say--if they burned you with\nplates of iron; if horses tore you asunder; if your body, coated with\nhoney, was devoured by insects? You will have only the death of a hunter\nwho is surprised in a wood.\"\n\nAntony would much prefer all this than the horrible wild beasts; he\nimagines he feels their teeth and their talons, and that he hears his\nback cracking under their jaws.\n\nA belluarius enters the dungeon; the martyrs tremble. One alone amongst\nthem is unmoved--the Phrygian, who has gone into a corner to pray. He\nhad burned three temples. He now advances with lifted arms, open mouth,\nand his head towards Heaven, without seeing anything, like a\nsomnambulist.\n\nThe consoler exclaims:\n\n\"Keep back! Keep back! The Spirit of Montanus will destroy ye!\"\n\nAll fall back, vociferating:\n\n\"Damnation to the Montanist!\"\n\nThey insult him, spit upon him, would like to strike him. The lions,\nprancing, bite one another's manes. The people yell:\n\n\"To the beasts! To the beasts!\"\n\nThe martyrs, bursting into sobs, catch hold of one another. A cup of\nnarcotic wine is offered to them. They quickly pass it from hand to\nhand.\n\nNear the door of the den another belluarius awaits the signal. It opens;\na lion comes out.\n\nHe crosses the arena with great irregular strides. Behind him in a row\nappear the other lions, then a bear, three panthers, and leopards. They\nscatter like a flock in a prairie.\n\nThe cracking of a whip is heard. The Christians stagger, and, in order\nto make an end of it, their brethren push them forward.\n\nAntony closes his eyes.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHe opens them again. But darkness envelops him. Ere long, it grows\nbright once more; and he is able to trace the outlines of a plain, arid\nand covered with knolls, such as may be seen around a deserted quarry.\nHere and there a clump of shrubs lifts itself in the midst of the slabs,\nwhich are on a level with the soil, and above which white forms are\nbending, more undefined than clouds. Others rapidly make their\nappearance. Eyes shine through the openings of long veils. By their\nindolent gait and the perfumes which exhale from them, Antony knows they\nare ladies of patrician rank. There are also men, but of inferior\ncondition, for they have visages at the same time simple and coarse.\n\nOne of the women, with a long breath:\n\n\"Ah! how pleasant is the air of the chilly night in the midst of\nsepulchres! I am so fatigued with the softness of couches, the noise of\nday, and the oppressiveness of the sun!\"\n\n_A woman_, panting--\"Ah! at last, here I am! But how irksome to have\nwedded an idolater!\"\n\n_Another_--\"The visits to the prisons, the conversations with our\nbrethren, all excite the suspicions of our husbands! And we must even\nhide ourselves from them when making the sign of the Cross; they would\ntake it for a magical conjuration.\"\n\n_Another_--\"With mine, there was nothing but quarrelling all day long. I\ndid not like to submit to the abuses to which he subjected my person;\nand, for revenge, he had me persecuted as a Christian.\"\n\n_Another_--\"Recall to your memory that young man of such striking beauty\nwho was dragged by the heels behind a chariot, like Hector, from the\nEsquiline Gate to the Mountains of Tibur; and his blood stained the\nbushes on both sides of the road. I collected the drops--here they are!\"\n\nShe draws from her bosom a sponge perfectly black, covers it with\nkisses, and then flings herself upon the slab, crying:\n\n\"Ah! my friend! my friend!\"\n\n_A man_--\"It is just three years to-day since Domitilla's death. She was\nstoned at the bottom of the Wood of Proserpine. I gathered her bones,\nwhich shone like glow-worms in the grass. The earth now covers them.\"\n\nHe flings himself upon a tombstone.\n\n\"O my betrothed! my betrothed!\"\n\nAnd all the others, scattered through the plain:\n\n\"O my sister!\" \"O my brother!\" \"O my daughter!\" \"O my mother!\"\n\nThey are on their knees, their foreheads clasped with their hands, or\ntheir bodies lying flat with both arms extended; and the sobs which they\nrepress make their bosoms swell almost to bursting. They gaze up at the\nsky, saying:\n\n\"Have pity on her soul, O my God! She is languishing in the abode of\nshadows. Deign to admit her into the Resurrection, so that she may\nrejoice in Thy light!\"\n\nOr, with eyes fixed on the flagstones, they murmur:\n\n\"Be at rest--suffer no more! I have brought thee wine and meat!\"\n\n_A widow_--\"Here is pudding, made by me, according to his taste, with\nmany eggs, and a double measure of flour. We are going to eat together\nas of yore, is not that so?\"\n\nShe puts a little of it on her lips, and suddenly begins to laugh in an\nextravagant fashion, frantically.\n\nThe others, like her, nibble a morsel and drink a mouthful; they tell\none another the history of their martyrs; their sorrow becomes vehement;\ntheir libations increase; their eyes, swimming with tears, are fixed on\none another; they stammer with inebriety and desolation. Gradually their\nhands touch; their lips meet; their veils are torn away, and they\nembrace one another upon the tombs in the midst of the cups and the\ntorches.\n\nThe sky begins to brighten. The mist soaks their garments; and, as if\nthey were strangers to one another, they take their departure by\ndifferent roads into the country.\n\nThe sun shines forth. The grass has grown taller; the plain has become\ntransformed. Across the bamboos, Antony sees a forest of columns of a\nbluish-grey colour. Those are trunks of trees springing from a single\ntrunk. From each of its branches descend other branches which penetrate\ninto the soil; and the whole of those horizontal and perpendicular\nlines, indefinitely multiplied, might be compared to a gigantic\nframework were it not that here and there appears a little fig-tree with\na dark foliage like that of a sycamore. Between the branches he\ndistinguishes bunches of yellow flowers and violets, and ferns as large\nas birds' feathers. Under the lowest branches may be seen at different\npoints the horns of a buffalo, or the glittering eyes of an antelope.\nParrots sit perched, butterflies flutter, lizards crawl upon the ground,\nflies buzz; and one can hear, as it were, in the midst of the silence,\nthe palpitation of an all-permeating life.\n\nAt the entrance of the wood, on a kind of pile, is a strange sight--a\nman coated over with cows' dung, completely naked, more dried-up than a\nmummy. His joints form knots at the extremities of his bones, which are\nlike sticks. He has clusters of shells in his ears, his face is very\nlong, and his nose is like a vulture's beak. His left arm is held erect\nin the air, crooked, and stiff as a stake; and he has remained there so\nlong that birds have made a nest in his hair.\n\nAt the four corners of his pile four fires are blazing. The sun is right\nin his face. He gazes at it with great open eyes, and without looking at\nAntony.\n\n\"Brahmin of the banks of the Nile, what sayest thou?\"\n\nFlames start out on every side through the partings of the beams; and\nthe gymnosophist resumes:\n\n\"Like a rhinoceros, I am plunged in solitude. I dwelt in the tree that\nwas behind me.\"\n\nIn fact, the large fig-tree presents in its flutings a natural\nexcavation of the shape of a man.\n\n\"And I fed myself on flowers and fruits with such an observance of\nprecepts that not even a dog has seen me eat.\n\n\"As existence proceeds from corruption, corruption from desire, desire\nfrom sensation, and sensation from contact, I have avoided every kind of\naction, every kind of contact, and--without stirring any more than the\npillar of a tombstone--exhaling my breath through my two nostrils,\nfixing my glances upon my nose; and, observing the ether in my spirit,\nthe world in my limbs, the moon in my heart, I pondered on the essence\nof the great soul, whence continually escape, like sparks of fire, the\nprinciples of life. I have, at last, grasped the supreme soul in all\nbeings, all beings in the supreme soul; and I have succeeded in making\nmy soul penetrate the place into which my senses used to penetrate.\n\n\"I receive knowledge directly from Heaven, like the bird Tchataka, who\nquenches his thirst only in the droppings of the rain. From the very\nfact of my having knowledge of things, things no longer exist. For me\nnow there is no hope and no anguish, no goodness, no virtue, neither\nday nor night, neither thou nor I--absolutely nothing.\n\n\"My frightful austerities have made me superior to the Powers. A\ncontraction of my brain can kill a hundred kings' sons, dethrone gods,\noverrun the world.\"\n\nHe utters all this in a monotonous voice. The leaves all around him are\nwithered. The rats fly over the ground.\n\nHe slowly lowers his eyes towards the flames, which are rising, then\nadds:\n\n\"I have become disgusted with form, disgusted with perception, disgusted\neven with knowledge itself--for thought does not outlive the transitory\nfact that gives rise to it; and the spirit, like the rest, is but an\nillusion.\n\n\"Everything that is born will perish; everything that is dead will come\nto life again. The beings that have actually disappeared will sojourn in\nwombs not yet formed, and will come back to earth to serve with sorrow\nother creatures. But, as I have resolved through an infinite number of\nexistences, under the guise of gods, men, and animals, I give up\ntravelling, and no longer wish for this fatigue. I abandon the dirty inn\nof my body, walled in with flesh, reddened with blood, covered with\nhideous skin, full of uncleanness; and, for my reward, I shall, finally,\nsleep in the very depths of the absolute, in annihilation.\"\n\nThe flames rise to his breast, then envelop him. His head stretches\nacross as if through the hole of a wall. His eyes are perpetually fixed\nin a vacant stare.\n\nAntony gets up again. The torch on the ground has set fire to the\nsplinters of wood, and the flames have singed his beard. Bursting into\nan exclamation, Antony tramples on the fire; and, when only a heap of\ncinders is left:\n\n\"Where, then, is Hilarion? He was here just now. I saw him! Ah! no; it\nis impossible! I am mistaken! How is this? My cell, those stones, the\nsand, have not, perhaps, any more reality. I must be going mad. Stay!\nwhere was I? What was happening here?\n\n\"Ah! the gymnosophist! This death is common amongst the Indian sages.\nKalanos burned himself before Alexander; another did the same in the\ntime of Augustus. What hatred of life they must have had!--unless,\nindeed, pride drove them to it. No matter, it is the intrepidity of\nmartyrs! As to the others, I now believe all that has been told me of\nthe excesses they have occasioned.\n\n\"And before this? Yes, I recollect! the crowd of heresiarchs ... What\nshrieks! what eyes! But why so many outbreaks of the flesh and\nwanderings of the spirit?\n\n\"It is towards God they pretend to direct their thoughts in all these\ndifferent ways. What right have I to curse them, I who stumble in my own\npath? When they have disappeared, I shall, perhaps, learn more. This one\nrushed away too quickly; I had not time to reply to him. Just now it is\nas if I had in my intellect more space and more light. I am tranquil. I\nfeel myself capable ... But what is this now? I thought I had\nextinguished the fire.\"\n\nA flame flutters between the rocks; and, speedily, a jerky voice makes\nitself heard from the mountains in the distance.\n\n\"Are those the barkings of a hyena, or the lamentations of some lost\ntraveller?\"\n\nAntony listens. The flame draws nearer.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd he sees approaching a woman who is weeping, resting on the shoulder\nof a man with a white beard. She is covered with a purple garment all in\nrags. He, like her, is bare-headed, with a tunic of the same colour, and\ncarries a bronze vase, whence arises a small blue flame.\n\nAntony is filled with fear,--and yet he would fain know who this woman\nis.\n\n_The stranger_ (_Simon_)--\"This is a young girl, a poor child, whom I\ntake everywhere with me.\"\n\nHe raises the bronze vase. Antony inspects her by the light of this\nflickering flame. She has on her face marks of bites, and traces of\nblows along her arms. Her scattered hair is entangled in the rents of\nher rags; her eyes appear insensible to the light.\n\n_Simon_--\"Sometimes she remains thus a long time without speaking or\neating, and utters marvellous things.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Really?\"\n\n_Simon_--\"Eunoia! Eunoia! relate what you have to say!\"\n\nShe turns around her eyeballs, as if awakening from a dream, passes her\nfingers slowly across her two lids, and in a mournful voice:\n\n_Helena_ (_Eunoia_)--\"I have a recollection of a distant region, of the\ncolour of emerald. There is only a single tree there.\"\n\nAntony gives a start.\n\n\"At each step of its huge branches a pair of spirits stand. The branches\naround them cross each other, like the veins of a body, and they watch\nthe eternal life circulating from the roots, where it is lost in shadow\nup to the summit, which reaches beyond the sun. I, on the second branch,\nillumined with my face the summer nights.\"\n\n_Antony_, touching his forehead--\"Ah! ah! I understand! the head!\"\n\n_Simon_, with his finger on his lips--\"Hush! Hush!\"\n\n_Helena_--\"The vessel remained convex: her keel clave the foam. He said\nto me, 'What does it matter if I disturb my country, if I lose my\nkingdom! You will be mine, in my own house!'\n\n\"How pleasant was the upper chamber of his palace! He would lie down\nupon the ivory bed, and, smoothing my hair, would sing in an amorous\nstrain. At the end of the day, I could see the two camps and the\nlanterns which they were lighting; Ulysses at the edge of his tent;\nAchilles, armed from head to foot, driving a chariot along the\nseashore.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Why, she is quite mad! Wherefore? ...\"\n\n_Simon_--\"Hush! Hush!\"\n\n_Helena_--\"They rubbed me with unguents, and sold me to the people to\namuse them. One evening, standing with the sistrum in my hand, I was\ncoaxing Greek sailors to dance. The rain, like a cataract, fell upon the\ntavern, and the cups of hot wine were smoking. A man entered without the\ndoor having been opened.\"\n\n_Simon_--\"It was I! I found you. Here she is, Antony; she who is called\nSigeh, Eunoia, Barbelo, Prounikos! The Spirits who govern the world were\njealous of her, and they bound her in the body of a woman. She was the\nHelen of the Trojans, whose memory the poet Stesichorus had rendered\ninfamous. She has been Lucretia, the patrician lady violated by the\nkings. She was Delilah, who cut off the hair of Samson. She was that\ndaughter of Israel who surrendered herself to he-goats. She has loved\nadultery, idolatry, lying and folly. She was prostituted by every\nnation. She has sung in all the cross-ways. She has kissed every face.\nAt Tyre, she, the Syrian, was the mistress of thieves. She drank with\nthem during the nights, and she concealed assassins amid the vermin of\nher tepid bed.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Ah! what is coming over me?\"\n\n_Simon_, with a furious air--\n\n\"I have redeemed her, I tell you, and re-established her in all her\nsplendour, such as Caius Caesar Agricola became enamoured of when he\ndesired to sleep with the Moon!\"\n\n_Antony_---\"Well! well!\"\n\n_Simon_--\"But she really is the Moon! Has not Pope Clement written that\nshe was imprisoned in a tower? Three hundred persons came to surround\nthe tower; and on each of the murderers, at the same time, the moon was\nseen to appear,--though there are not many moons in the world, or many\nEunoias!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Yes! ... I think I recollect ...\"\n\nAnd he falls into a reverie.\n\n_Simon_--\"Innocent as Christ, who died for men, she has devoted herself\nto women. For the powerlessness of Jehovah is demonstrated by the\ntransgression of Adam, and we must shake off the old law, opposed, as it\nis, to the order of things. I have preached the new Gospel in Ephraim\nand in Issachar, along the torrent of Bizor, behind the lake of Houleh,\nin the valley of Mageddo, and beyond the mountains, at Bostra and at\nDamas. Let those who are covered with wine-dregs, those who are covered\nwith dirt, those who are covered with blood, come to me; and I will\nwash out their defilement with the Holy Spirit, called by the Greeks,\nMinerva. She is Minerva! She is the Holy Spirit! I am Jupiter Apollo,\nthe Christ, the Paraclete, the great power of God incarnated in the\nperson of Simon!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Ah! it is you! ... it is you! But I know your crimes! You were\nborn at Gittha on the borders of Samaria. Dositheus, your first master,\ndismissed you! You execrate Saint Paul for having converted one of your\nwomen; and, vanquished by Saint Peter, in your rage and terror, you\nflung into the waves the bag which contained your magical instruments!\"\n\n_Simon_--\"Do you desire them?\"\n\nAntony looks at him, and an inner voice murmurs in his breast, \"Why\nnot?\"\n\nSimon resumes:\n\n\"He who understands the powers of Nature and the substance of spirits\nought to perform miracles. It is the dream of all sages--and the desire\nof which gnaws you; confess it!\n\n\"Amongst the Romans I flew so high in the circus that they saw me no\nmore. Nero ordered me to be decapitated; but it was a sheep's head that\nfell to the ground instead of mine. Finally, they buried me alive; but I\ncame back to life on the third day. The proof of it is that I am here!\"\n\nHe gives him his hands to smell. They have the odour of a corpse. Antony\nrecoils.\n\n\"I can make bronze serpents move, marble statues laugh, and dogs speak.\nI will show you an immense quantity of gold, I will set up kings, you\nshall see nations adoring me. I can walk on the clouds and on the\nwaves; pass through mountains; assume the appearance of a young man, or\nof an old man; of a tiger, or of an ant; take your face, give you mine;\nand drive the thunderbolt. Do you hear?\"\n\nThe thunder rolls, followed by flashes of lightning.\n\n\"It is the voice of the Most High, 'for the Eternal, thy God, is a\nfire,' and all creations operate by the emanations of this central fire.\nYou are about to receive the baptism of it--that second baptism,\nannounced by Jesus, which fell on the Apostles one stormy day when the\nwindow was open!\"\n\nAnd all the while stirring the flame with his hand, slowly, as if to\nsprinkle Antony with it:\n\n\"Mother of Mercies, thou who discoverest secrets in order that we may\nhave rest in the eighth house ...\"\n\nAntony exclaims:\n\n\"Ah! if I had holy water!\"\n\nThe flame goes out, producing much smoke.\n\nEunoia and Simon have disappeared.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAn extremely cold fog, opaque and f[oe]tid, fills the atmosphere.\n\n_Antony_, extending his arms like a blind man--\n\n\"Where am I? ... I am afraid of falling into the abyss. And the cross, no\ndoubt, is too far away from me. Ah! what a night! what a night!\"\n\nA sudden gust of wind cleaves the fog asunder; and he perceives two men\ncovered with long white tunics. The first is of tall stature, with a\nsweet expression of countenance and grave deportment. His white hair,\nparted like that of Christ, descends regularly over his shoulders. He\nhas thrown down a wand which he was carrying in his hand, and which his\ncompanion has taken up, making a respectful bow after the fashion of\nOrientals. The other is small, coarse-looking, flat-nosed, with a thick\nneck, curly hair, and an air of simplicity. Both of them are\nbare-footed, bare-headed, and covered with dust, like people who have\ncome on a long journey.\n\n_Antony_, with a start--\"What do ye seek? Speak! Go on!\"\n\n_Damis_--He is the little man--\n\n\"La, la! ... worthy hermit! what do you say? I know nothing about it.\nHere is the Master!\"\n\nHe sits down; the other remains standing. Silence.\n\n_Antony_, resumes--\"Ye come in this fashion? ...\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Oh! a great distance--a very great distance!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"And ye are going? ...\"\n\n_Damis_, pointing at his companion--\"Wherever he wishes.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Who, then, is he?\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Look at him.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"He has the appearance of a saint. If I dared ...\"\n\nThe fog by this time is quite gone. The atmosphere has become perfectly\nclear. The moon shines out.\n\n_Damis_--\"What are you thinking of now that you say nothing more?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"I am thinking of----Oh! nothing.\"\n\nDamis draws close to Apollonius, makes many turns round him, with his\nfigure bent, and without moving his head.\n\n\"Master, this is a Galilean hermit who wishes to know the sources of\nyour wisdom.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"Let him approach.\"\n\nAntony hesitates.\n\n_Damis_--\"Approach!\"\n\n_Apollonius_, in a voice of thunder--\n\n\"Approach! You would like to know who I am, what I have done, what I am\nthinking of? Is that not so, child?\"\n\n_Antony_--\" ... If at the same time those things contribute to my\nsalvation.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"Rejoice! I am about to tell them to you!\"\n\n_Damis_, in a low tone to Antony--\n\n\"Is it possible? He must have, at the first glance, recognised your\nextraordinary inclinations for philosophy! I shall profit by it also\nmyself.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"I will first describe to you the long road I travelled to\ngain doctrine; and, if you find in all my life one bad action, you will\nstop me--for he must scandalise by his words who has offended by his\nactions.\"\n\n_Damis_ to Antony:\n\n\"What a just man! eh?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Decidedly, I believe he is sincere.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"The night of my birth, my mother thought she saw herself\ngathering flowers on the border of a lake. A flash of lightning\nappeared; and she brought me into the world amid the cries of swans who\nwere singing in her dream. Up to my fifteenth year, they plunged me\nthree times a day into the fountain Asbadeus, whose waters render\nperjurers dropsical; and they rubbed my body with leaves of cnyza, to\nmake me chaste. A princess from Palmyra sought me out, one evening, and\noffered me treasures, which she knew were hidden in tombs. A priest of\nthe temple of Diana cut his throat in despair with the sacrificial\nknife; and the Governor of Cilicia, after repeated promises, declared\nbefore my family that he would put me to death; but it was he who died\nthree days after, assassinated by the Romans.\"\n\n_Damis_, to Antony, striking him on the elbow--\"Eh? Just as I told you!\nWhat a man!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"I have for four years in succession observed the complete\nsilence of the Pythagoreans. The most unforeseen calamity did not draw\none sigh from me; and, at the theatre, when I entered, they turned aside\nfrom me as from a phantom.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Would you have done that--you?\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"The time of my ordeal ended, I undertook to instruct the\npriests who had lost the tradition.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What tradition?\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Let him continue. Be silent!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"I have conversed with the Samaneans of the Ganges, with\nthe astrologers of Chaldea, with the magi of Babylon, with the Gaulish\ndruids, with the priests of the negroes. I have climbed the fourteen\nOlympi; I have sounded the Lakes of Sythia; I have measured the vastness\nof the desert!\"\n\n_Damis_--\"All this is undoubtedly true. I was there myself!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"At first, I went as far as the Hyrcanian Sea. I have gone\nall round it, and through the country of the Baraomatae, where Bucephalus\nis buried. I have gone down to Nineveh. At the gates of the city a man\ncame up to me.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"I! I! my good Master! I loved you from the very beginning. You\nwere sweeter than a girl, and more beautiful than a god!\"\n\n_Appollonius_, without listening to him--\"He wished to accompany me, in\norder to act as an interpreter for me.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"But you replied that you understood every language, and that\nyou divined all thoughts. Then I kissed the end of your mantle, and I\nwalked behind you.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"After Ctesiphon, we entered into the land of Babylon.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"And the satrap uttered an exclamation on seeing a man so\npale.\"\n\n_Antony_, to himself--\"Which signifies----?\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"The King received me standing near a throne of silver, in\na circular hall studded with stars, and from a cupola hung, from unseen\nthreads, four great golden birds, with both wings extended.\"\n\n_Antony_, musing--\"Are there such things on the earth?\"\n\n_Damis_--\"That is, indeed, a city--Babylon! Everyone is rich there! The\nhouses, painted blue, have gates of bronze, with staircases that lead\ndown to the river.\"\n\nMaking a sketch with his stick on the ground:\n\n\"Like that, do you see? And then there are temples, squares, baths,\naqueducts! The palaces are covered with copper! and then the interior,\nif you only saw it!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"On the northern wall rises a tower, which supports a\nsecond, a third, a fourth, a fifth; and there are three others besides!\nThe eighth is a chapel with a bed in it. Nobody enters there but the\nwoman chosen by the priests for the God Belus. The King of Babylon made\nme take up my quarters in it.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"They scarcely paid any heed to me. I was left, too, to walk\nabout the streets by myself. I enquired into the customs of the people;\nI visited the workshops; I examined the huge machines which bring water\ninto the gardens. But it annoyed me to be separated from the Master.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"At last, we left Babylon; and, by the light of the moon,\nwe suddenly saw a wild mare.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Yes, indeed! she sprang forth on her iron hoofs; she neighed\nlike an ass; she galloped amongst the rocks. He burst into angry abuse\nof her; and she disappeared.\"\n\n_Antony_, aside--\"Where can they have come from?\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"At Taxilla, capital of five thousand fortresses,\nPhraortes, King of the Ganges, showed us his guard of tall black men,\nfive cubits high, and in the gardens of his palace, under a pavilion of\ngreen brocade, an enormous elephant, whom the queens used to amuse\nthemselves in perfuming. This was the elephant of Porus, who fled after\nthe death of Alexander.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"And which was found again in a forest.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"They talk a great deal, like drunken people.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"Phraortes made us sit down at his table.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"What an odd country! The noblemen, while drinking, amuse\nthemselves by flinging arrows under the feet of a child who is dancing.\nBut I do not approve ...\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"When I was ready to depart, the King gave me a parasol,\nand said to me: 'I have, on the Indus, a stud of white camels. When you\ndo not want them any longer, blow into their ears, and they will\nreturn.' We proceeded along the river, walking in the night by the\ngleaming of the glow-worms, who emitted their radiance through the\nbamboos. The slave whistled an air to keep off the serpents; and our\ncamels bent the reins while passing under the trees, as if under doors\nthat were too low. One day, a black child, who held in his hand a\ncaduceus of gold, conducted us to the College of Sages. Iarchas, their\nchief, spoke to me of my ancestors, of all my thoughts, of all my\nactions, and all my existences. He had been the river Indus, and he\nrecalled to my mind that I had conducted the boats on the Nile in the\ntime of King Sesostris.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"As for me, they told me nothing, so that I do not know what I\nwas.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"They have the unsubstantial air of shadows.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"We met on the seashore the cynocephali, glutted with\nmilk, who were returning from their expedition in the Island of\nTaprobane. The tepid waves pushed white pearls before us. The amber\ncracked under our footsteps. Whales' skeletons were bleaching in the\ncrevices of the cliffs. In short, the earth grew more contracted than a\nsandal;--and, after casting towards the sun drops from the ocean, we\nturned to the right to go back. We returned through the region of the\nAromatae, through the country of the Gangaridae, the promontory of\nComaria, the land of the Sachalitae, of the Aramitae, and the Homeritae;\nthen across the Cassanian mountains, the Red Sea, and the Island of\nTopazes, we penetrated into Ethiopia, through the kingdom of the\nPygmaei.\"\n\n_Antony_, aside--\"How large the earth is!\"\n\n_Damis_--\"And when we got home again, all those whom we had known in\nformer days were dead.\"\n\nAntony hangs his head. Silence.\n\n_Apollonius_ goes on:\n\n\"Then they began talking about me in the world. The plague ravaged\nEphesus; I made them stone an old mendicant.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"And the plague was gone!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What! He banishes diseases?\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"At Cnidus, I cured the lover of Venus.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Yes, a madman, who had even promised to marry her. To love a\nwoman is bad enough; but a statue--what idiocy! The Master placed his\nhand on this man's heart, and immediately the love was extinguished.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What! He drives out demons?\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"At Tarentum, they brought to the stake a young girl who\nwas dead.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"The Master touched her lips; and she arose, calling on her\nmother.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Can it be? He brings the dead back to life?\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"I foretold that Vespasian would be Emperor.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What! He divines the future?\"\n\n_Damis_--\"There was at Corinth----\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"While I was supping with him at the waters of Baia----\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Excuse me, strangers; it is late!\"\n\n_Damis_--\"----A young man named Menippus.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"No! no! go away!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"----A dog entered, carrying in its mouth a hand that had\nbeen cut off.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"----One evening, in one of the suburbs, he met a woman.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"You do not hear me. Take yourselves off!\"\n\n_Damis_--\"----He prowled vacantly around the couches.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Enough!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"----They wanted to drive him away.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"----Menippus, then, surrendered himself to her; and they\nbecame lovers.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"----And, beating the mosaic floor with his tail, he\ndeposited this hand on the knees of Flavius.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"----But, in the morning, at the school-lectures, Menippus was\npale.\"\n\n_Antony_, with a bound--\"Still at it! Well, let them go on, since there\nis not ...\"\n\n_Damis_--\"The Master said to him: 'O beautiful young man, you are\ncaressing a serpent; and a serpent is caressing you. For how long are\nthese nuptials?' Every one of us went to the wedding.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"I am doing wrong, surely, in listening to this!\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Servants were busily engaged at the vestibule; the doors flew\nopen; nevertheless, one could hear neither the noise of footsteps, nor\nthe sound of opening doors. The Master seated himself beside Menippus.\nImmediately, the bride was seized with anger against the philosophers.\nBut the vessels of gold, the cup-bearers, the cooks, the attendants,\ndisappeared; the roof flew away; the walls fell in; and Apollonius\nremained alone, standing with this woman all in tears at his feet. It\nwas a vampire, who satisfied the handsome young men in order to devour\ntheir flesh--because nothing is better for phantoms of this kind than\nthe blood of lovers.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"If you wish to know the art----\"\n\n_Antony_--\"I wish to know nothing.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"On the evening of our arrival at the gates of Rome----\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Oh! yes, tell me about the City of the Popes.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"----A drunken man accosted us who sang with a sweet\nvoice. It was an epithalamium of Nero; and he had the power of causing\nthe death of anyone who heard him with indifference. He carried on his\nback in a box a string taken from the cithara of the Emperor. I shrugged\nmy shoulders. He threw mud in our faces. Then I unfastened my girdle and\nplaced it in his hands.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"In this instance you were quite wrong!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"The Emperor, during the night, made me call at his\nresidence. He played at ossicles with Sporus, leaning with his left arm\non a table of agate. He turned round, and, knitting his fair brows: 'Why\nare you not afraid of me?' he asked. 'Because the God who made you\nterrible has made me intrepid,' I replied.\"\n\n_Antony_, to himself--\"Something unaccountable fills me with fear.\"\n\nSilence.\n\n_Damis_ resumes, in a shrill voice--\"All Asia, moreover, could tell\nyou ...\"\n\n_Antony_, starting up--\"I am sick. Leave me!\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Listen now. At Ephesus, he witnessed the death of Domitian,\nwho was at Rome.\"\n\n_Antony_ making an effort to laugh--\"Is this possible?\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Yes, at the theatre, in broad daylight, on the fourteenth of\nthe Kalends of October, he suddenly exclaimed: 'They are murdering\nCaesar!' and he added, every now and then, 'He rolls on the ground! Oh!\nhow he struggles! He gets up again; he attempts to fly; the gates are\nshut. Ah! it is finished. He is dead!' And that very day, in fact, Titus\nFlavius Domitianus was assassinated, as you are aware.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Without the aid of the Devil ... No doubt ...\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"He wished to put me to death, this Domitian. Damis fled\nby my direction, and I remained alone in my prison.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"It was a terrible bit of daring, I must confess!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"About the fifth hour, the soldiers led me to the\ntribunal. I had my speech quite ready, which I kept under my cloak.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"The rest of us were on the bank of Puzzoli! We saw you die; we\nwept; when, towards the sixth hour, all at once, you appeared, and said\nto us, 'It is I.'\"\n\n_Antony_, aside--\"Just like Him!\"\n\n_Damis_, very loudly--\"Absolutely!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Oh, no! you are lying, are you not? You are lying!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"He came down from Heaven--I ascend there, thanks to my\nvirtue, which has raised me even to the height of the Most High!\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Tyana, his native city, has erected a temple with priests in\nhis honour!\"\n\n_Apollonius_ draws close to Antony, and, bending towards his ear, says:\n\n\"The truth is, I know all the gods, all the rites, all the prayers, all\nthe oracles. I have penetrated into the cavern of Trophonius, the son of\nApollo. I have moulded for the Syracusans the cakes which they use on\nthe mountains. I have undergone the eighty tests of Mithra. I have\npressed against my heart the serpent of Sabacius. I have received the\nscarf of the Cabiri. I have bathed Cybele in the waves of the Campanian\nGulf; and I have passed three moons in the caverns of Samothrace!\"\n\n_Damis_, laughing stupidly--\"Ah! ah! ah! at the mysteries of the Bona\nDea!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"And now we are renewing our pilgrimage. We are going to\nthe North, the side of the swans and the snows. On the white plain the\nblind hippopodes break with the ends of their feet the ultramarine\nplant.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Come! it is morning! The cock has crowed; the horse has\nneighed; the ship is ready.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"The cock has not crowed. I hear the cricket in the sands, and\nI see the moon, which remains in its place.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"We are going to the South, behind the mountains and the\nhuge waves, to seek in the perfumes for the cause of love. You shall\ninhale the odour of myrrhodion, which makes the weak die. You shall\nbathe your body in the lake of pink oil of the Island of Juno. You\nshall see sleeping under the primroses the lizard who awakens all the\ncenturies when at his maturity the carbuncle falls from his forehead.\nThe stars glitter like eyes, the cascades sing like lyres, an\nintoxicating fragrance arises from the opening flowers. Your spirit\nshall expand in this atmosphere, and it will show itself in your heart\nas well as in your face.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Master, it is time! The wind is about to rise; the swallows\nare awakening; the myrtle-leaf is shed.\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"Yes, let us go!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"No--not I! I remain!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"Do you wish me to show you the plant Balis, which\nresuscitates the dead?\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Ask him rather for the bloodstone, which attracts silver, iron\nand bronze!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Oh! how sick I feel! how sick I feel!\"\n\n_Damis_--\"You shall understand the voices of all creatures, the\nroarings, the cooings!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"I will make you mount the unicorns, the dragons, and the\ndolphins!\"\n\n_Antony_, weeps--\"Oh! oh! oh!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"You shall know the demons who dwell in the caverns, those\nwho speak in the woods, those who move about in the waves, those who\ndrive the clouds.\"\n\n_Damis_--\"Fasten your girdle! tie your sandals!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"I will explain to you the reasons for the shapes of\ndivinities; why it is that Apollo is upright, Jupiter sitting down,\nVenus black at Corinth, square at Athens, conical at Paphos.\"\n\n_Antony_, clasping his hands--\"I wish they would go away! I wish they\nwould go away!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"I will snatch off before your eyes the armour of the\nGods; we shall force the sanctuaries; I will make you violate the\npythoness!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Help, Lord!\"\n\nHe flings himself against the cross.\n\n_Apollonius_--\"What is your desire? your dream? There's barely time to\nthink of it ...\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Jesus, Jesus, come to my aid!\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"Do you wish me to make Jesus appear?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What? How?\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"It shall be He--and no other! He shall cast off His\ncrown, and we shall speak together face to face!\"\n\n_Damis_, in a low tone--\"Say what you wish for most! Say what you wish\nfor most!\"\n\nAntony, at the foot of the cross, murmurs prayers. Damis continues to\nrun around him with wheedling gestures.\n\n\"See, worthy hermit, dear Saint Antony! pure man, illustrious man! man\nwho cannot be sufficiently praised! Do not be alarmed; this is an\nexaggerated style of speaking, borrowed from the Orientals. It in no way\nprevents--\"\n\n_Apollonius_--\"Let him alone, Damis! He believes, like a brute, in the\nreality of things. The fear which he has of the gods prevents him from\ncomprehending them; and he eats his own words, just like a jealous king!\nBut you, my son, quit me not!\"\n\nHe steps back to the verge of the cliffs, passes over it and remains\nthere, hanging in mid-air:\n\n\"Above all forms, farther than the earth, beyond the skies, dwells the\nWorld of Ideas, entirely filled with the Word. With one bound we leap\nacross Space, and you shall grasp in its infinity the Eternal, the\nAbsolute Being! Come! give me your hand. Let us go!\"\n\nThe pair, side by side, rise softly into the air.\n\nAntony, embracing the cross, watches them ascending.\n\nThey disappear.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nALL GODS, ALL RELIGIONS.\n\n\nAntony, walking slowly--\"That was really Hell!\n\n\"Nebuchadnezzar did not dazzle me so much. The Queen of Sheba did not\nbewitch me so thoroughly. The way in which he spoke about the gods\nfilled me with a longing to know them.\n\n\"I recollect having seen hundreds of them at a time, in the Island of\nElephantinum, in the reign of Dioclesian. The Emperor had given up to\nthe nomads a large territory, on condition that they should protect the\nfrontiers; and the treaty was concluded in the name of the invisible\nPowers. For the gods of every people were ignorant about other people.\nThe Barbarians had brought forward theirs. They occupied the hillocks of\nsand which line the river. One could see them holding their idols\nbetween their arms, like great paralytic children, or else, sailing amid\ncataracts on trunks of palm-trees, they pointed out from a distance the\namulets on their necks and the tattooings on their breasts; and that is\nnot more criminal than the religion of the Greeks, the Asiatics, and the\nRomans.\n\n\"When I dwelt in the Temple of Heliopolis, I used often to contemplate\nall the objects on the walls: vultures carrying sceptres, crocodiles\nplaying on lyres, men's faces joined to serpents' bodies, women with\ncows' heads prostrated before the ithyphallic deities; and their\nsupernatural forms carried me away into other worlds. I wished to know\nwhat those calm eyes were gazing at. In order that matter should have so\nmuch power, it should contain a spirit. The souls of the gods are\nattached to their images. Those who possess external beauty may\nfascinate us; but the others, who are abject or terrible ... how to\nbelieve in them? ...\"\n\nAnd he sees moving past, close to the ground, leaves, stones, shells,\nbranches of trees, vague representations of animals, then a species of\ndropsical dwarfs. These are gods. He bursts out laughing.\n\nBehind him, he hears another outburst of laughter; and Hilarion presents\nhimself, dressed like a hermit, much bigger than before--in fact,\ncolossal.\n\nAntony is not surprised at seeing him again.\n\n\"What a brute one must be to adore a thing like that!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Oh! yes; very much of a brute!\"\n\nThen advance before them, one by one, idols of all nations and all ages,\nin wood, in metal, in granite, in feathers, and in skins sewn together.\nThe oldest of them, anterior to the Deluge, are lost to view beneath the\nseaweed which hangs from them like hair. Some, too long for their lower\nportions, crack in their joints and break their loins while walking.\nOthers allow sand to flow out through holes in their bellies.\n\nAntony and Hilarion are prodigiously amused. They hold their sides from\nsheer laughter.\n\nAfter this, idols pass with faces like sheep. They stagger on their\nbandy legs, open wide their eyelids, and bleat out, like dumb animals:\n\"Ba! ba! ba!\"\n\nIn proportion as they approach the human type, they irritate Antony the\nmore. He strikes them with his fist, kicks them, rushes madly upon them.\nThey begin to present a horrible aspect, with high tufts, eyes like\nbulls, arms terminated with claws, and the jaws of a shark. And, before\nthese gods, men are slaughtered on altars of stone, while others are\npounded in vats, crushed under chariot-wheels, or nailed to trees. There\nis one of them, all in red-hot iron, with the horns of a bull, who\ndevours children.\n\n_Antony_--\"Horror!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"But the gods always demand sufferings. Your own, even, has\nwished--\"\n\n_Antony_, weeping--\"Say no more--hold your tongue!\"\n\nThe enclosure of rocks changes into a valley. A herd of oxen pastures\nthere on the shorn grass. The shepherd who has charge of them perceives\na cloud; and in a sharp voice pierces the air with words of urgent\nentreaty.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"As he wants rain, he tries, by his strains, to coerce the\nKing of Heaven to open the fruitful cloud.\"\n\n_Antony_, laughing--\"This is too silly a form of presumption!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Why, then, do you perform exorcisms?\"\n\nThe valley becomes a sea of milk, motionless and illimitable.\n\nIn the midst of it floats a long cradle, formed by the coils of a\nserpent, all whose heads, bending forward at the same time, overshadow\na god who lies there asleep. He is young, beardless, more beautiful than\na girl, and covered with diaphanous veils. The pearls of his tiara shine\nsoftly, like moons; a chaplet of stars winds itself many times above his\nbreast, and, with one hand under his head and the other arm extended, he\nreposes with a dreamy and intoxicated air. A woman squatted before his\nfeet awaits his awakening.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"This is the primordial duality of the Brahmans--the\nabsolute not expressing itself by any form.\"\n\nUpon the navel of the god a stalk of lotus has grown; and in its calyx\nappears another god with three faces.\n\n_Antony_--\"Hold! what an invention!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Father, Son and Holy Ghost, in the same way make only one\nperson!\"\n\nThe three heads are turned aside, and three immense gods appear. The\nfirst, who is of a rosy hue, bites the end of his toe. The second, who\nis blue, tosses four arms about. The third, who is green, weaves a\nnecklace of human skulls. Immediately in front of them rise three\ngoddesses, one wrapped in a net, another offering a cup, and the third\nbrandishing a bow.\n\nAnd these gods, these goddesses multiply, become tenfold. On their\nshoulders rise arms, and at the ends of their arms are hands holding\nbanners, axes, bucklers, swords, parasols and drums. Fountains spring\nfrom their heads, grass hangs from their nostrils.\n\nRiding on birds, cradled on palanquins, throned on seats of gold,\nstanding in niches of ivory, they dream, travel, command, drink wine\nand inhale flowers. Dancing-girls whirl around; giants pursue monsters;\nat the entrances to the grottoes, solitaries meditate. Myriads of stars\nand clouds of streamers mingle in an indistinguishable throng. Peacocks\ndrink from the streams of golden dust. The embroidery of the pavilions\nblends with the spots of the leopards. Coloured rays cross one another\nin the blue air, amid the flying of arrows and the swinging of censers.\nAnd all this unfolds itself, like a lofty frieze, leaning with its base\non the rocks and mounting to the very sky.\n\n_Antony_, dazzled--\"What a number of them there are! What do they wish?\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"The one who is scratching his abdomen with his elephant's\ntrunk is the solar god, the inspirer of wisdom. That other, whose six\nheads carry towers and fourteen handles of javelins, is the prince of\narmies, the fire-devourer. The old man riding on a crocodile is going to\nbathe the souls of the dead on the seashore. They will be tormented by\nthis black woman with rotten teeth, the governess of hell. The chariot\ndrawn by red mares, which a legless coachman is driving, is carrying\nabout in broad daylight the master of the sun. The moon-god accompanies\nhim in a litter drawn by three gazelles. On her knees, on the back of a\nparrot, the goddess of beauty is presenting her round breast to Love,\nher son. Here she is farther on; she leaps with joy in the prairies.\nLook! look! With a radiant mitre on her head, she runs over the\ncornfields, over the waves, mounts into the air, and exhibits herself\neverywhere. Between these gods sit the genii of the winds, of the\nplanets, of the months, of the days, and a hundred thousand others! And\ntheir aspects are multiplied, their transformations rapid. Here is one\nwho from a fish has become a tortoise, he assumes the head of a wild\nboar, the stature of a dwarf!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"For what purpose?\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"To establish equilibrium, to combat evil. Life is\nexhausted, its forms are used up; and it is necessary to progress by\nmetamorphoses of them.\"\n\nSuddenly a naked man appears, seated in the middle of the sand with his\nlegs crossed. A large circle vibrates, suspended behind him. The little\ncurls of his black hair, deepening into an azure tint, twist\nsymmetrically around a protuberance at the top of his head. His arms, of\ngreat length, fall straight down his sides. His two hands, with open\npalms, rest evenly on his thighs. The lower portions of his feet present\nthe figures of two suns; and he remains completely motionless in front\nof Antony and Hilarion, with all the gods around him placed at intervals\nupon the rocks, as if on the seats of a circus. His lips open, and in a\ndeep voice he says:\n\n\"I am the master of the great charity, the help of creatures, and I\nexpound the law to believers and to the profane alike. To save the world\nI wished to be born amongst men; the gods wept when I went away. At\nfirst, I sought a woman suitable for the purpose--of warlike race, the\nspouse of a king, exceedingly virtuous and beautiful, with a deep navel,\na body firm as a diamond; and at the time of the full moon, without the\nintervention of any male, I entered her womb. I came out through her\nright side. Then the stars stopped in their motions.\"\n\nHilarion murmurs between his teeth:\n\n\"'And when they saw the stars stop, they conceived a great joy!'\"\n\nAntony looks more attentively at the Buddha, who resumes:\n\n\"From the bottom of the Himalaya, a religious centenarian set forth to\nsee me.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"'A man called Simeon, who was not to die before he had seen\nthe Christ!'\"\n\n_The Buddha_--\"They brought me to the schools. I knew more than the\ndoctors.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\" ... 'In the midst of the doctors; and all those who heard\nhim were ravished by his wisdom.'\"\n\nAntony makes a sign to Hilarion to keep silent.\n\n_The Buddha_--\"I went continually to meditate in the gardens. The\nshadows of the trees used to move; but the shadow of the one that\nsheltered me did not move. No one could equal me in the knowledge of the\nSacred Writings, the enumeration of atoms, the management of elephants,\nwaxworks, astronomy, poetry, boxing, all exercises and all arts. In\ncompliance with custom, I took a wife; and I passed the days in my royal\npalace, arrayed in pearls, under a shower of perfumes, fanned by the\nfly-flappers of thirty-three thousand women, and gazing at my people\nfrom the tops of my terraces adorned with resounding bells. But the\nsight of the world's miseries made me turn aside from pleasures. I fled.\nI went a-begging on high-ways, covered with rags collected in the\nsepulchres; and, as there was a very learned hermit, I offered myself as\nhis servant. I guarded his door; I washed his feet. All sensation, all\njoy, all languor, were annihilated. Then, concentrating my thoughts on\na larger field of meditation, I came to know the essence of things, the\nillusion of forms. I speedily abandoned the science of the Brakhmans.\nThey are eaten up with lusts beneath their austere exterior; they anoint\nthemselves with filth, and sleep upon thorns, believing that they arrive\nat happiness through the path of death!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Pharisees, hypocrites, whited sepulchres, race of vipers!\"\n\n_The Buddha_--\"I, too, have done astonishing things--eating for a day\nonly a single grain of rice--and at that time grains of rice were not\nbigger than they are now--my hair fell off; my body became black; my\neyes, sunken in their sockets, seemed like stars seen at the bottom of a\nwell. For six years I never moved, remaining exposed to flies, to lions,\nand to serpents; and I subjected myself to burning suns, heavy showers,\nsnow, lightning, hail, and tempest, without even shielding myself with\nmy hand. The travellers who passed, assuming that I was dead, flung\nclods of earth at me from a distance.\n\n\"There only remained for me to be tempted by the Devil.\n\n\"I invoked him.\n\n\"His sons came--hideous, covered with scales, nauseous as charcoal,\nhowling, hissing, bellowing, flinging at each other armour and dead\nmen's bones. Some of them spirted out flames through their nostrils;\nothers spread around darkness with their wings; others carried chaplets\nof fingers that had been cut off; others drank the venom of serpents out\nof the hollows of their hands. They have the heads of pigs,\nrhinoceroses, or toads--all kinds of figures calculated to inspire\nrespect or terror.\"\n\n_Antony_, aside--\"I endured that myself in former times.\"\n\n_The Buddha_--\"Then he sent me his daughters--beautiful, well-attired\nwith golden girdles, teeth white as the jasmine, and limbs round as an\nelephant's trunk. Some of them stretched up their arms when they yawned\nto display the dimples in their elbows; others blinked their eyes;\nothers began to laugh and others unfastened one another's garments.\nAmongst them were blushing virgins, matrons full of pride, and queens\nwith great trains of baggage and attendants.\"\n\n_Antony, aside_--\"Ah! that also!\"\n\n_The Buddha_--\"Having vanquished the demon. I passed twelve years in\nnourishing myself exclusively on perfumes,--and, as I had acquired the\nfive virtues, the five faculties, the ten forces, the eighteen\nsubstances and penetrated into the four spheres of the invisible world,\nthe Intelligence was mine, and I became the Buddha!\"\n\nAll the gods bow down, those who have many heads lower them all at the\nsame time. He raises his hand on high in the air, and resumes:\n\n\"In view of the deliverance of beings, I have made hundreds of thousands\nof sacrifices; I have given to the poor robes of silk, beds, chariots,\nhouses, heaps of gold and diamonds. I have given my hands to the\none-handed, my legs to the lame, my eyes to the blind; I have cut off my\nhead for the decapitated. At the time when I was king, I distributed the\nprovinces; at the time when I was Brakhman, I despised nobody. When I\nwas a solitary I spoke words of tenderness to the thief who tried to cut\nmy throat. When I was a tiger, I let myself die of hunger. And in this\nfinal stage of existence, having preached the law, I have nothing more\nto do. The great period is accomplished. The men, the animals, the gods,\nthe bamboos, the oceans, the mountains, the grains of sand of the\nGanges, with the myriads of myriads of stars, everything, must perish;\nand, until the new births, a flame will dance on the ruins of a world's\noverthrow.\"\n\nThen a vertigo seizes the gods. They stagger, fall into convulsions, and\nvomit forth their existences. Their crowns break to pieces; their\nstandards fly away. They get rid of their attributes and their sexes,\nfling over their shoulders the cups from which they drink immortality,\nstrangle themselves with their serpents, and vanish in smoke; and, when\nthey have all disappeared:\n\n_Hilarion_, slowly--\"You have just seen the creed of many hundreds of\nmillions of men!\"\n\nAntony is on the earth, his face in his hands. Standing close to him,\nand turning his back to the cross, Hilarion watches him.\n\nA rather lengthened period elapses.\n\nThen a singular being appears, with the head of a man and the body of a\nfish. He advances straight through the air, tossing the sand with his\ntail; and his patriarchal face and his little arms make Antony laugh.\n\n_Oannes_, in a plaintive voice--\"Treat me with respect! I am the\ncontemporary of the beginning of things.\n\n\"I have dwelt in the shapeless world, where slumbered hermaphrodite\nanimals, under the weight of an opaque atmosphere, in the depths of\ngloomy waves--when the fingers, the fins, and the wings were confounded,\nand eyes without heads floated like molluscs amongst human-faced bulls\nand dog-footed serpents.\n\n\"Over the whole of those beings Omoroca, bent like a hoop, stretched her\nwoman's body. But Belus cut her clean in two halves, made the earth with\none, and the heavens with another; and the two worlds alike mutually\ncontemplate each other. I, the first consciousness of chaos, I have\narisen from the abyss to harden matter, to regulate forms; and I have\ntaught men fishing, the sowing of seed, the scripture, and the history\nof the gods. Since then, I live in the ponds that remained after the\nDeluge. But the desert grows larger around them; the wind flings sand\ninto them; the sun consumes them; and I expire on my bed of lemon while\ngazing across the water at the stars. Thither am I returning.\"\n\nHe makes a plunge and disappears in the Nile.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"This is an ancient god of the Chaldeans!\"\n\n_Antony_, ironically--\"Who, then, were the gods of Babylon?\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"You can see them!\"\n\nAnd they find themselves upon the platform of a quadrangular tower\nrising above other towers, which, growing narrower in proportion as they\nrise, form a monstrous pyramid. You may distinguish below a great, black\nmass--the city, without doubt--stretching along the plain. The air is\ncold; the sky is of a sombre blue; the multitudinous stars palpitate.\n\nIn the middle of the platform stands a column of white stone. Priests in\nlinen robes pass and return all round, so as to describe in their\nevolutions a moving circle, and, with heads raised, they contemplate the\nstars.\n\nHilarion points out several of them to Saint Antony:\n\n\"There are thirty chief priests. Fifteen gaze upon the region above the\nearth, and fifteen on the region below it. At regular intervals one of\nthem rushes from the upper regions to the lower, whilst another abandons\nthe lower to mount towards the empyrean.\n\n\"Of the seven planets, two are benevolent, two malevolent, and three\nambiguous; everything in the world depends on these eternal fires.\nAccording to their position and their movements, one may draw\nprognostications, and you are now treading on the most sacred spot on\nearth. There Pythagoras and Zoroaster may be met. Two thousand years\nhave these men been observing the sky, the better to comprehend the\ngods.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"The stars are not gods!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Yes! say they; for, while things are continually passing\naround us, the sky, like eternity, remains unchangeable!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Nevertheless, it has a master.\"\n\n_Hilarion_, pointing at the column--\"That is Belus, the first ray, the\nsun, the male!--the other, which is fruitful, is under him!\"\n\nAntony observes a garden lighted up with lamps. He is in the midst of\nthe crowd in an avenue of cypress-trees. To right and left little paths\nlead towards huts erected in a wood of pomegranate-trees, which protect\nlattices of reeds. The men, for the most part, have pointed caps with\nlaced robes, like the plumage of peacocks. There are people from the\nNorth clad in bearskins; nomads in brown woollen cloaks; pale Gangarides\nwith long ear-rings; and the classes, like the nationalities, appear to\nbe confused, for sailors and stone-cutters jostle against princes\nwearing tiaras of carbuncles and carrying large walking-sticks with\ncarved heads. All hurry forward with dilated nostrils, filled with the\nsame desire.\n\nFrom time to time they got out of the way, in order to allow a long,\ncovered chariot, drawn by oxen, to pass, or perhaps it is an ass jolting\non his back a woman closely veiled, who also disappears in the direction\nof the huts.\n\nAntony is frightened. He desires to turn back. However, an inexpressible\ncuriosity leads him on.\n\nBeneath the cypress-trees women are squatted in rows upon deerskins,\neach of them having for a diadem a plait of cords. Some of them,\nmagnificently attired, address the passers-by in loud tones. The more\ntimid keep their features hidden between their hands, whilst, from\nbehind, a matron--no doubt, their mother--encourages them. Others, with\nheads enveloped in black shawls, and the rest of their bodies quite\nnude, seem, at a distance, like statues of flesh. As soon as a man\nflings money on their knees, they rise. And one can hear kisses amid the\nfoliage, and sometimes a great, bitter cry.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Those are the virgins of Babylon who prostitute themselves\nto the goddess.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What goddess?\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"There she is!\"\n\nAnd he shows Antony, at the very end of the avenue, on the threshold of\nan illuminated grotto, a block of stone representing a woman.\n\n_Antony_--\"Infamy! What an abomination to give a sex to God!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"You conceive Him, surely, as a living person!\"\n\nOnce more Antony finds himself in darkness.\n\nHe perceives in the air a luminous circle placed on horizontal wings.\nThis species of ring surrounds, like a girdle that is too loose, the\nfigure of a small man with a mitre on his head and a crown in his hand,\nthe lower part of whose body is shut out from view by the huge feathers\nexhibited in his kilt.\n\nThis is Ormuz, the God of the Persians. He flutters while he exclaims:\n\n\"I am terrified! I catch a glimpse of his mouth. I have vanquished thee,\nAhriman! But thou art beginning again!\n\n\"At first, revolting against me, thou didst destroy the eldest of\ncreatures, Kaiomortz, the man-bull. Then, thou didst seduce the first\nhuman pair, Meschia and Meschiana, and didst fill their hearts with\ndarkness, and press forward thy battalions towards Heaven.\n\n\"I had my own, the inhabitants of the stars, and I gazed down from my\nthrone on all the planets in their different spheres.\n\n\"Mithra, my son, dwelt in an inaccessible spot. There he received souls,\nand sent them forth, and, each morning he arose to pour out his riches.\n\n\"The splendour of the firmament was reflected by the earth. The fire\nshone on the mountains--image of the other fire with which I have\ncreated all beings. To secure it from defilement, they did not burn the\ndead, who were transported to Heaven on the beaks of birds.\n\n\"I have regulated pasturages, labours, the wood of sacrifice, the forms\nof cups, the words that must be uttered in insomnia; and my priests\nprayed continually in order that their worship should correspond to the\neternity of God. They purified themselves with water; they offered up\nloaves on the altars; they confessed their sins in loud tones.\n\n\"Homa gave himself to men to drink in order to communicate his strength\nto them.\n\n\"While the genii of Heaven were fighting the demons, the children of\nIran chased the serpents. The King, whom a countless train of courtiers\nserved on bended knees, was attired so as to resemble me in person, and\nwore my head-dress. His gardens had the magnificence of a celestial\nearth; and his tomb represented him slaying a monster--emblem of the\ngood which exterminates evil. For, one day, it came to pass--thanks to\nthe endless course of time--that I triumphed over Ahriman. But the\ninterval that separates us is disappearing; the night is rising! Help,\nAmschaspands, Irzeds, Ferouers! Come to my assistance, Mithra! take thy\nsword! Caosyac, who must come back to save the world, defend me! How is\nthis? ... No one!\n\n\"Ah! I am dying! Ahriman, thou art the master!\"\n\nHilarion, behind Antony, restrains an exclamation of joy, and Ormuz\nplunges into the darkness.\n\nThen appears the great Diana of Ephesus, black, with enamelled eyes,\nelbows at her sides, forearms turned out, and hands open.\n\nLions crouch upon her shoulders; fruits, flowers and stars cross one\nanother upon her chest; further down three rows of breasts exhibit\nthemselves, and from the belly to the feet she is caught in a close\nsheath, from which sprout forth, in the centre of her body, bulls,\nstags, griffins and bees. She is seen in the white gleaming caused by a\ndisc of silver, round as the full moon, placed behind her head.\n\n\"Where is my temple? Where are my amazons? How is it with me--me, the\nincorruptible--that I find myself so impotent?\"\n\nHer flowers wither; her fruits, over-ripe, hang loose; the lions and the\nbulls bow down their necks; the stags, exhausted, begin to pant; the\nbees, with a faint buzzing, fall dying upon the ground. She presses her\nbreasts one after the other. They are empty! But, yielding to a\ndesperate pressure, her sheath bursts open. She clutches the end of it,\nlike the skirt of a dress, flings into it her animals and her\nflower-wreaths, then goes back into the darkness; and in the distance\nvoices murmur, grumble, roar, cry, or bellow. The density of the night\nis increased by the winds. A warm shower begins to fall in heavy drops.\n\n_Antony_--\"How pleasant is this odour of palm-trees, this rustling of\ngreen leaves, this transparency of fountains! I would like to lie down\nflat upon the ground, in order to feel it close to my heart, and my life\nwould be renewed in eternal youth!\"\n\nHe hears the sound of castanets and cymbals, and, in the midst of a\nrustic crowd, men clad in white tunics, with red bands, lead out an ass,\nrichly harnessed, his tail adorned with ribands and his hoofs painted. A\nbox, covered with a saddle-cloth of yellow linen, sways to and fro upon\nhis back, between two baskets, one of which receives the offerings\ndeposited there--eggs, grapes, pears, cheeses, poultry, and small\ncoins--while the second is full of roses, which the drivers of the ass\nscatter before him as they move along. The latter wear pendants in their\nears, large cloaks, plaited tresses, and have their cheeks painted. Each\nof them has an olive crown fastened around his forehead by a figured\nmedallion. They carry daggers in their girdles, and flourish whips with\nebony handles, each having three thongs mounted with ossicles. The last\nin the procession fix in the ground erect, as a chandelier, a huge\npine-tree, whose summit is on fire, and the lowest branches of which\novershadow a little sheep.\n\nThe ass stops. The saddle-cloth is removed; and underneath appears a\nsecond covering of black felt. Then one of the men in a white tunic\nbegins to dance, while playing upon castanets; while another, on his\nknees before the box, beats a tambourine; and the oldest of the band\ncommences:\n\n\"Here is the Bona Dea, the divinity of the mountains, the great mother\nof Syria! Draw hither, honest people! She procures joy, heals the sick,\nbestows fortunes, and satisfies lovers. It is we who bring her out to\nwalk in the country in fine weather and bad weather. We often sleep in\nthe open air, and we have not a well-served table every day. The thieves\ndwell in the woods. The beasts rush forth from their dens. Slippery\npaths line the precipices. Look here! look here!\"\n\nThey raise the coverlet and disclose a box incrusted with little\npebbles.\n\n\"Higher than the cedar-trees she hovers in the blue ether. More\ncircumambient than the winds, she surrounds the world. Her respiration\nis exhaled through the nostrils of tigers; her voice growls beneath the\nvolcanoes; her anger is the storm; and the pallor of her face has made\nthe moon white. She ripens the harvests; she swells out the rinds; she\nmakes the beard grow. Give her something, for she hates the\navaricious!\"\n\nThe box flies open; and beneath an awning of blue silk is seen a little\nimage of Cybele, glittering with spangles, crowned with towers, and\nseated on a chariot of red stone, drawn by two lions with raised paws.\n\nThe crowd presses forward to see.\n\nThe archi-gallus continues:\n\n\"She loves the sounds of dulcimers, the stamping of feet, the howling of\nwolves, the echoing mountains and the deep gorges, the flower of the\nalmond-tree, the pomegranate and the green figs, the whirling dance, the\nhigh-sounding flute, the sweet sap, the salt tear,--blood! Help! help!\nMother of mountains!\"\n\nThey flagellate themselves with their whips, and the strokes resound on\ntheir breasts. The skins of the tambourines vibrate till they almost\nburst. They seize their knives and inflict gashes on their arms:\n\n\"She is sad: let us be sad! He who is doomed to suffer must weep! In\nthat way your sins will be remitted. Blood washes out everything: shed\ndrops of it around, then, like flowers. She demands that of another--of\none who is pure!\"\n\nThe archi-gallus raises his knife above the sheep,\n\n_Antony_, seized with horror--\"Don't slaughter the lamb!\"\n\nA purple flood gushes forth. The priests sprinkle the crowd with it; and\nall--including Antony and Hilarion--ranged around the burning tree,\nsilently watch the last palpitations of the victim. From the midst of\nthe priests comes a woman, exactly like the image enclosed in the little\nbox. She stops on seeing a young man in a Phrygian cap.\n\nHis thighs are covered with tight-fitting breeches opened here and there\nby lozenges which are fastened with coloured bows. He rests his elbows\nagainst one of the branches of the tree, holding a flute in his hand, in\na languishing attitude.\n\n_Cybele_, encircling his figure with her arms--\n\n\"To rejoin thee I have travelled through every region--and famine\nravaged the fields. Thou hast deceived me! No matter,--I love thee! Warm\nmy body! Let us unite!\"\n\n_Atys_--\"The spring-time will return no more, O eternal Mother! Despite\nmy love, it is not possible to penetrate thy essence. I should like to\ncover myself with a coloured robe like thine. I envy thy breasts,\nswollen with milk, the length of thy tresses, thy mighty sides from\nwhich spring living creatures. Would that I were like thee! Would that I\nwere woman! But no! that can never be! My virility fills me with\nhorror!\"\n\nWith a sharp stone he mutilates himself; then he begins to run madly\naround.\n\nThe priests imitate the god; the faithful, the priests. Men and women\nexchange their garments and embrace one another; and this whirlwind of\nblood-stained flesh hurries away, whilst the voices, ever continuing,\nbecome more clamorous and shrill, like those one hears at funerals.\n\nA great catafalque hung with purple carries on its summit a bed of\nebony, surrounded by torches and baskets of silver filigree, in which\nare contained green lettuces, mallows, and fennel. Upon the seats, above\nand below, are seated women, all attired in black, with girdles undone\nand naked feet, and holding with a melancholy air huge bouquets of\nflowers.\n\nOn the ground, at the corners of the platform, alabaster urns filled\nwith myrrh are sending up light wreaths of smoke. On the bed may be\nseen the corpse of a man. Blood trickles from his thigh. His arm is\nhanging down, and a dog, who is howling, licks his nails. The line of\ntorches placed too close to one another prevents his figure from being\ncompletely visible. Antony is seized with anguish. He is afraid of\nseeing the face of some one he knew.\n\nThe women cease their sobbing; and, after an interval of silence, all,\nat the same time, burst into a psalm:\n\n\"Beautiful! beautiful! he is beautiful! Enough of sleep--raise his head!\nUp! Inhale our bouquets! These are narcissi and anemones gathered in thy\ngardens to please thee. Return to life! thou fillest us with fear!\n\n\"Speak! What dost thou require? Dost thou wish to drink wine? Dost thou\nwish to sleep in our beds? Dost thou wish to eat the honey-cakes which\nhave the form of little birds?\n\n\"Let us press close to his hips! let us kiss his breast! Hold! hold!\nfeel thou our fingers covered with rings which are stealing over thy\nbody, and our lips which are seeking thy mouth, and our hair which is\nsweeping thy legs, insensible god, deaf to our prayers!\"\n\nThey burst into shrieks, tearing their faces with their nails, then\nbecome silent; and only the howling of the dog is heard.\n\n\"Alas! alas! The dark blood rushes over his snowy flesh. See how his\nknees writhe, how his sides give way! The flowers upon his face have\nsoaked the gore. He is dead! Let us weep! let us lament!\"\n\nThey come all in a row to fling down between the torches their flowing\nlocks, resembling at a distance black or yellow serpents; and the\ncatafalque is softly lowered to the level of a cave--a gloomy sepulchre,\nwhich is yawning in the background.\n\nThen a woman bends over the corpse. Her hair, which never has been cut,\ncovers her from head to foot. She sheds so many tears that her grief\ndoes not seem to be like that of others, but superhuman, infinite.\n\nAntony thinks of the mother of Jesus.\n\nShe says:\n\n\"Thou didst escape from the East, and thou didst press me in thy arms\nall quivering with dew, O sun! Doves fluttered above the azure of thy\nmantle, our kisses caused breezes amid the foliage, and I abandoned\nmyself to thy love, delighting in the exquisite sensation of my own\nweakness.\n\n\"Alas! alas! Why art thou about to rush away over the mountains? At the\nautumnal equinox a wild boar wounded thee! Thou art dead, and the\nfountains weep and the trees droop, and the winter wind is whistling\nthrough the leafless branches.\n\n\"My eyes are about to close, seeing that darkness is covering thee. By\nthis time thou art dwelling on the other side of the world, near my more\npowerful rival.\n\n\"O Persephone, all that is beautiful goes down to thee and returns no\nmore!\"\n\nWhile she has been speaking, her companions have taken the dead body to\nlower it into the sepulchre. It remains in their hands. It was only a\ncorpse of wax!\n\nAntony experiences a kind of relief. The whole scene vanishes, and the\ncell, the rocks, and the cross reappear! And now he distinguishes on the\nother side of the Nile a woman standing in the middle of the desert.\nShe holds with her hand the end of a long black veil, which conceals her\nfigure; while she carries on her left arm a little child, which she is\nsuckling. At her side a huge ape is squatted on the sand. She lifts her\nhead towards the sky, and, in spite of the distance, her voice can be\nheard.\n\n_Isis_--\"O Neith, beginning of things! Ammon, lord of eternity! Ptha,\ndemiurgus! Thoth, his intelligence! Gods of Amenthi! Special Triads of\nthe Nomes! Sparrow-hawks in the azure! Sphinxes on the outsides of\ntemples! Ibises standing between the horns of oxen! Planets!\nConstellations! River-banks! Murmurs of wind! Reflections of light! Tell\nme where to find Osiris!\n\n\"I have sought for him through all the water-courses and all the lakes,\nand, farther still, in the Ph[oe]nician Byblos. Anubis, with ears erect,\njumped round me, barking, and with his nose scenting out the clumps of\ntamarind. Thanks, good Cynocephalus, thanks!\"\n\nShe gives the ape two or three friendly little slaps on the head.\n\n\"The hideous red-haired Typhon killed him and tore him to pieces. We\nhave found all his members. But I have not got that which made me\nfruitful!\"\n\nShe utters bitter lamentations.\n\n_Antony_ is seized with rage. He casts pebbles at her insultingly:\n\n\"Impure one! begone, begone!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Respect her! This is the religion of your ancestors! You\nhave worn her amulets in your cradle!\"\n\n_Isis_--\"In former times, when the summer returned, the inundation drove\nto the desert the impure beasts. The dykes flew open; the boats dashed\nagainst one another; the panting earth drank the stream till it was\nglutted. O god! with horns of bull, thou didst stretch thyself upon my\nbreast, and the lowing of the eternal cow was heard!\n\n\"The new-sown crops, the harvests, the thrashing of corn, and the\nvintages succeeded each other regularly in unison with the changes of\nthe seasons. In the nights, ever clear, the great stars shed forth their\nbeams. The days were steeped in an unchanging splendour. The sun and the\nmoon were seen like a royal pair on either side of the horizon.\n\n\"We were enthroned in a world more sublime--twin monarchs, spouses from\nthe bosom of eternity; he holding a sceptre with the head of a\nconchoupha, and I a sceptre with a lotus-flower, we stood with hands\njoined;--and the crash of empires did not change our attitude.\n\n\"Egypt lay stretched beneath us, monumental and solemn, long, like the\ncorridor of a temple, with obelisks at the right, pyramids at the left,\nits labyrinth in the middle; and everywhere avenues of monsters, forests\nof columns, massive archways flanking gates which have for their summit\nthe earth's sphere between two wings.\n\n\"The animals of her zodiac found their counterparts in her plains, and\nwith their forms and colours filled her mysterious writings. Divided\ninto twelve regions, as the year is into twelve months--each month, each\nday, having its god--she reproduced the immutable order of the heavens;\nand man, though he died, did not lose his lineaments, but, saturated\nwith perfumes and becoming imperishable, he went to sleep for three\nthousand years in a silent Egypt.\n\n\"The latter, greater than the other, spread out beneath the earth.\nThither one descended by means of staircases leading to halls where were\nreproduced the joys of the good, the tortures of the wicked, everything\nthat takes place in the third invisible world. Ranged along the walls,\nthe dead, in painted coffins, awaited each their turn; and the soul,\nfree from migrations, continued its sleep till it awakened in another\nlife.\n\n\"Meanwhile, Osiris sometimes came back to see me. His shade made me the\nmother of Harpocrates.\"\n\nShe gazes on the child:\n\n\"It is he! Those are his eyes; those are his tresses, curling like a\nram's horns. Thou shalt begin his works over again. We shall bloom\nafresh, like the lotus. I am always the great Isis! Nobody has ever yet\nlifted my veil! My offspring is the sun!\n\n\"Sun of spring, let the clouds obscure thy face! The breath of Typhon\ndevours the pyramids. Just now I have seen the Sphinx fly away. He\ngalloped off like a jackal.\n\n\"I am seeking for my priests--my priests in their linen robes, with\ngreat harps, carrying along a mystic skiff ornamented with paterae of\nsilver. No more feasts on the lakes! no more illuminations in my Delta!\nno more cups of milk at Philae! For a long time Apis has not reappeared.\n\n\"Egypt! Egypt! Thy great immovable gods have their shoulders whitened by\nthe dung of birds, and the wind, as it passes along the desert, carries\nwith it the ashes of the dead!--Anubis, protector of shadows, do not\nleave me!\"\n\nThe Cynocephalus vanishes.\n\nShe gives her child a shaking.\n\n\"But what aileth thee? ... thy hands are cold, thy head fallen back!\"\n\nHarpocrates has just died. Then she utters a cry so bitter, mournful,\nand heartrending, that Antony replies to it by another cry, while he\nopens his arms to support her.\n\nShe is no longer there. He hangs his head, overwhelmed with shame.\n\nAll that he has just seen becomes confused in his mind. It is like the\nstunning effect of a voyage, the uncomfortable sensation of drunkenness.\nFain would he hate; and yet a vague pity softens his heart. He begins to\nweep abundantly.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"What is it now that makes you sad?\"\n\n_Antony_, after questioning himself for a long time--\"I am thinking of\nall the souls lost through these false gods!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Do you not find that they have--in some\nrespects--resemblances to the true?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"This is a trick of the Devil the better to seduce the\nfaithful. He attacks the strong through the spirit, and the others\nthrough the flesh.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"But lust, in its furies, possesses the disinterestedness of\npenitence. The frantic love of the body accelerates its destruction--and\nby its weakness proclaims the extent of the impossible.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"How is it that this affects me? My heart revolts with disgust\nagainst those brutish gods, always occupied with carnage and incest.\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Recall to yourself in the Scriptures all the things that\nscandalise you because you cannot understand them. In the same way,\nthese gods, under the outward form of criminals, may contain the truth.\nThere are some of them left to see. Turn aside!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"No! no! it is a peril!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"A moment ago you wished to make their acquaintance. Do\nfalsehoods make your faith totter? What do you fear?\"\n\nThe rocks in front of Antony have become a mountain.\n\nA range of clouds intersects it half-way from the top; and overhead\nappears another mountain, enormous, quite green, which hollows out the\nvalley unevenly, having on its summit, in a wood of laurels, a palace of\nbronze, with tiles of gold and ivory capitals.\n\nIn the midst of the peristyle, upon a throne, Jupiter, colossal, and\nwith a naked torso, holds victory in one hand, and the thunderbolt in\nthe other; and his eagle, between his legs, erects its head.\n\nJuno, close to him, rolls her great eyes, surmounted by a diadem, from\nwhich escapes, like a vapour, a veil floating in the wind.\n\nBehind, Minerva, standing on a pedestal, leans upon her spear. The\nGorgon's skin covers her breast, and a linen peplum descends in regular\nfolds even to her toe-nails. Her grey eyes, which shine beneath her\nvizor, gaze intently into the distance.\n\nAt the right of the palace the aged Neptune is riding on a dolphin\nbeating with its fins a vast expanse of azure, which is the sky or the\nsea, for the perspective of the ocean prolongs the blue ether; the two\nelements become mingled in one.\n\nOn the other side, Pluto, fierce, in a mantle black as night, with a\ntiara of diamonds and a sceptre of ebony, is in the midst of an isle\nenclosed by the windings of the Styx;--and this ghostly stream rushes\ninto the darkness, which forms under the cliff a great black gap, a\nshapeless abyss.\n\nMars, clad in bronze, brandishes, with an air of fury, his huge sword\nand shield.\n\nHercules, standing lower, gazes up at him, leaning on his club.\n\nApollo, with radiant face, is driving, with his right arm extended, four\nwhite horses at a gallop; and Ceres, in a chariot drawn by oxen, is\nadvancing towards him with a sickle in her hand.\n\nBacchus goes before her on a very low car slowly drawn along by lynxes.\nErect, beardless, with vine-branches over his forehead, he passes,\nholding a goblet from which wine is flowing. Silenus, at his side, is\ndangling upon an ass. Pan, with pointed ears, is blowing his pipe; the\nMimallones beat drums; Maenads scatter flowers; the Bacchantes throw back\ntheir heads with hair dishevelled.\n\nDiana, with her tunic tucked up, sets out from the wood with her nymphs.\n\nAt the bottom of a cavern, Vulcan is hammering the iron between the\nCabiri; here and there, the old river-gods, resting upon green stones,\nwater their urns; and the Muses, standing up, are singing in the dales.\n\nThe Hours, of equal height, hold each other by the hand; and Mercury is\nplaced in a slanting posture, upon a rainbow, with his magic wand, his\nwinged sandals and his broad-brimmed hat.\n\nBut at the top of the staircase of the gods, amid clouds soft as\nfeathers, whose folds as they wind around let fall roses, Venus\nAnadyomene is gazing at her image in a mirror; her pupils cast\nlanguishing glances underneath her rather heavy eyelashes. She has long,\nfair tresses, which spread out over her shoulders, her dainty breasts,\nher slender figure, her hips widening like the curves of a lyre, her\ntwo rounded thighs, the dimples around her knees, and her delicate\nfeet. Not far from her mouth a butterfly is fluttering. The splendour of\nher body sheds around her a halo of brilliant mother-of-pearl; and all\nthe rest of Olympus is bathed in a rosy dawn, which, by insensible\ndegrees, reaches the heights of the azure sky.\n\n_Antony_--\"Ah! my bosom dilates. A joy, which I cannot analyse, descends\ninto the depths of my soul. How beautiful it is! how beautiful it is!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"They stooped down from the height of the clouds to direct\nthe swords. You might meet them on the roadsides. You kept them in your\nhome; and this familiarity made life divine.\n\n\"Her only aim was to be free and beautiful. Her ample robes rendered her\nmovements more graceful. The orator's voice, exercised beside the sea,\nstruck the marble porticoes in unison with the sonorous waves. The\nstripling, rubbed with oil, wrestled, quite naked, in the full light of\nday. The most religious action was to expose pure forms.\n\n\"Those men, too, respected spouses, the aged and suppliants. Behind the\nTemple of Hercules, an altar was raised to Pity.\n\n\"They used to immolate victims with flowers around their fingers. Memory\nwas not even troubled by the decay of the dead, for there remained of\nthem only a handful of ashes. The soul, mingled with the boundless\nether, ascended to the gods!\"\n\nBending towards Antony's ear:\n\n\"And they live for ever! The Emperor Constantine adores Apollo. You will\nfind the Trinity in the mysteries of Samothrace, baptism in the case of\nIsis, the redemption in that of Mithra, the martyrdom of a god in the\nfeasts of Bacchus. Proserpine is the Virgin; Aristaeus, Jesus!\"\n\nAntony keeps his eyes cast down; then all at once he repeats the creed\nof Jerusalem--as he recollects it--emitting, after each phrase, a long\nsigh:\n\n\"'I believe in one only God, the Father;--and in one only Lord, Jesus\nChrist, first-born son of God, who became incarnate and was made man;\nwho was crucified and buried; who ascended into Heaven; who will come to\njudge the living and the dead; whose kingdom will have no end;--and in\none only Holy Ghost;--and in one only baptism of repentance;--and in one\nholy Catholic Church;--and in the resurrection of the flesh;--and in the\nlife everlasting!'\"\n\nImmediately the cross becomes larger, and, piercing the clouds, it casts\na shadow over the heaven of the gods.\n\nThey all grow dim. Olympus vanishes.\n\nAntony distinguishes near its base, half lost in the caverns, or\nsupporting the stones on their shoulders, huge bodies chained. These are\nthe Titans, the Giants, the Hecatonchires, and the Cyclops.\n\nA voice rises, indistinct and formidable,--like the murmur of the waves,\nlike the sound heard in woods during a storm, like the roaring of the\nwind down a precipice:\n\n\"We knew it, we of all others! The gods were doomed to die. Uranus was\nmutilated by Saturn, and Saturn by Jupiter. He will be himself\nannihilated. Each in its turn. It is destiny!\"\n\nAnd, by degrees, they plunge into the mountain, and disappear.\n\nMeanwhile, the roof of the palace of gold flies away.\n\nJupiter descends from his throne. The thunder at his feet smokes like a\nbrand that is almost extinguished; and the eagle, stretching its neck,\ngathers with its beak its falling plumes.\n\n\"So, then, I am no longer the master of things, all-good, all-powerful,\ngod of the phratriae and of the Greek peoples, ancestor of all the kings,\nthe Agamemnon of Heaven!\n\n\"Eagle of the apotheoses, what breath of Erebus has driven thee to me?\nor, flying from the Campus Martius, dost thou bring to me the soul of\nthe last of the Emperors?\n\n\"I no longer desire those of men! Let the earth guard them, and let them\nbe moved on a level with its baseness. They now have hearts of slaves;\nthey forget injuries, ancestors, oaths; and everywhere the folly of\nmobs, the mediocrity of the individual, and the hideousness of races\nreign supreme!\"\n\nHis respiration makes his sides swell even to bursting, and he writhes\nwith his hands. Hebe in tears presents a cup to him. He seizes it:\n\n\"No! no! As long as there will be, no matter where, a head enclosing\nthought which hates disorder and realises the idea of Law, the spirit of\nJupiter will live!\"\n\nBut the cup is empty. He turns it around slowly on his finger-nail.\n\n\"Not a drop! When ambrosia fails, there is an end of the Immortals!\"\n\nIt slips out of his hand, and he leans against a pillar, feeling that he\nis dying.\n\n_Juno_--\"There was no need of so many loves! Eagle, bull, swan, golden\nshower, cloud and flame, thou hast assumed every form, scattered thy\nlight in every element, hidden thy head on every couch! This time the\ndivorce is irrevocable--and our sway, our very existence, is dissolved!\"\n\nShe rushes away into the air!\n\nMinerva no longer has her spear; and the ravens, which nestled in the\nsculptures of the frieze, whirl round her, and bite at her helmet.\n\n\"Let me see whether my vessels, cleaving the shining sea, have returned\ninto my three ports, wherefore the fields are deserted, and what the\ndaughters of Athens are now doing.\n\n\"In the month of Hecatombaeon, all my people came to me led by their\nmagistrates and priests. Then, in white robes, with chitons of gold, the\nlong files of virgins advanced, holding cups, baskets, and parasols;\nthen, the three hundred oxen for the sacrifice, old men shaking green\nboughs, soldiers clashing their armour against each other, youths\nsinging hymns, players on the flute and on the lyre, rhapsodists and\ndancing-girls--and finally, on the mast of a trireme, supported by coils\nof rope, my great veil embroidered by virgins, who, for the space of a\nyear, had been nourished in a particular fashion; and, when it had been\nshown in every street, in every square, and before every temple, in the\nmidst of a procession continually chanting, it ascended to the\nAcropolis, brushed passed the Propylaeum, and entered the Parthenon.\n\n\"But a difficulty faces me--me, the ingenious one! What! what! not a\nsingle idea! Here am I more terrified than a woman.\"\n\nShe perceives behind her a ruin, utters a cry, and, struck on the\nforehead, falls backward to the ground.\n\nHercules has cast off his lion's skin, and, resting on his feet, bending\nhis back, and biting his lips, he makes desperate efforts to sustain\nOlympus, which is toppling down.\n\n\"I have vanquished the Cercopes, the Amazons, and the Centaurs. I have\nslain many kings, I have broken the horn of Achelous, a great river. I\nhave cut through mountains; I have brought oceans together. I have\nliberated enslaved nations; I have peopled uninhabited countries. I have\ntravelled over Gaul. I have traversed the desert where one feels thirst.\nI have defended the gods, and I have freed myself from Omphale. But\nOlympus is too heavy. My arms are growing feeble. I am dying!\"\n\nHe is crushed beneath the ruins.\n\n_Pluto_--\"It is thine own fault, Amphitrionades! Why didst thou descend\ninto my realms? The vulture who devours the entrails of Tityus has\nraised its head; Tantalus has had his lips moistened; and Ixion's wheel\nis stopped.\n\n\"Meanwhile, the Keres stretch forth their nails to detain the souls; the\nFuries in despair twist the serpents in their locks; and Cerberus,\nfastened by thee with a chain, has a rattling in the throat, while he\nslavers from his three mouths.\n\n\"Thou didst leave the gate ajar. Others have come. The light of human\nday has penetrated Tartarus!\"\n\nHe sinks into the darkness.\n\n_Neptune_--\"My trident no longer raises tempests. The monsters who\ncaused terror have rotted at the bottom of the sea.\n\n\"Amphitrite, whose white feet rushed over the foam; the green nereids,\nwho could be seen on the horizon; the scaly sirens, who used to stop the\nships to tell stories; and the old tritons, who used to blow into\nshells, all are dead! The gaiety of the sea has vanished!\n\n\"I will not survive it! Let the vast ocean cover me.\"\n\nHe disappears into the azure.\n\n_Diana_, attired in black, among her dogs, who have become wolves--\n\n\"The freedom of great woods intoxicated me with its odour of deer and\nexhalations of swamps. The women, over whose pregnancy I watched, bring\ndead children into the world. The moon trembles under the incantations\nof sorcerers. I am filled with violent and boundless desires. I long to\ndrink poisons, to lose myself in vapours or in dreams! ...\"\n\nAnd a passing cloud bears her away.\n\n_Mars_, bare-headed and blood-stained--\n\n\"At first, I fought single-handed, provoking by insults an entire army,\nindifferent to countries, and for the pleasure of carnage. Then, I had\ncompanions. They marched to the sound of flutes, in good order, with\neven step, breathing upon their bucklers, with lofty plume and slanting\nspear. We flung ourselves into the battle with loud cries like those of\neagles. War was as joyous as a feast. Three hundred men withstood all\nAsia.\n\n\"But they returned, those barbarians! and in tens of thousands, nay, in\nmillions! Since numbers, war-engines, and strategy are more powerful, it\nis better to make an end of it, like a brave man!\"\n\nHe kills himself.\n\n_Vulcan_, wiping the sweat from his limbs with a sponge--\n\n\"The world is getting cold. It is necessary to heat the springs, the\nvolcanoes, and the rivers, which run from metals under the\nearth!--Strike harder! with vigorous arm! with all your strength!\"\n\nThe Cabiri hurt themselves with their hammers, blind themselves with the\nsparks, and, groping their way along, are lost in the shadow.\n\n_Ceres_, standing in her chariot which is drawn by wheels having wings\nin their naves--\"Stop! Stop!\n\n\"They had good reason to exclude the strangers, the atheists, the\nepicureans, and the Christians! The mystery of the basket is unveiled,\nthe sanctuary profaned--all is lost!\"\n\nShe descends with a rapid fall--bursting into exclamation of despair,\nand dragging back the horses.\n\n\"Ah! falsehood! Daira is not given up to me. The brazen bell calls me to\nthe dead. It is another kind of Tartarus. There is no returning from it.\nHorror!\"\n\nThe abyss swallows her up.\n\n_Bacchus_, laughing frantically:\n\n\"What does it matter! The wife of Archontes is my spouse! Even the law\ngoes down before drunkenness. For me the new song and the multiplied\nforms!\n\n\"The fire which consumed my mother runs in my veins. Let it burn the\nstronger, even though I perish!\n\n\"Male and female, good for both, I deliver myself to ye, Bacchantes! I\ndeliver myself to ye, Bacchantes! and the vine will twist around the\ntrunks of trees! Howl! dance! writhe! Unbind the tiger and the slave!\nbite the flesh with ferocious teeth!\"\n\nAnd Pan, Silenus, the Satyrs, the Bacchantes, the Mimallones, and the\nMaenades, with their serpents, their torches, and their black masks,\nscatter flowers, then shake their dulcimers, strike their thyrsi, pelt\neach other with shells, crunch grapes, strangle a he-goat, and rend\nBacchus.\n\n_Apollo_, lashing his coursers, whose glistening hairs fly off--\n\n\"I have left behind me Delos the stony, so empty that everything there\nnow seems dead; and I am striving to reach the Delphian oracle before\nits inspiring vapour should be completely lost. The mules browse on its\nlaurel. The pythoness, gone astray, is found there no longer.\n\n\"By a stronger concentration, I will have sublime poems, eternal\nmonuments; and all matter will be penetrated with the vibrations of my\ncithara.\"\n\nHe fingers its chords. They break and snap against his face. He flings\ndown the instrument, and driving his four-horse chariot furiously:\n\n\"No! enough of forms! Farther still--to the very summit--to the world of\npure thought!\"\n\nBut the horses, falling back, begin to prance so that the chariot is\nsmashed; and, entangled in the fragments of the pole and the knottings\nof the horses, he falls head-foremost into the abyss.\n\nThe sky is darkened. Venus, blue as a violet from the cold, shivers.\n\n\"I covered with my girdle the entire horizon of Hellas. Its fields shone\nwith the roses of my cheeks; its shores were cut according to the form\nof my lips; and its mountains, whiter than my doves, palpitated under\nthe hands of the sculptors. My spirit showed itself in the order of\nfestivities, the arrangements of head-dresses, the dialogues of\nphilosophers, and the constitution of republics. But I have loved men\ntoo much. It is Love that has dishonoured me!\"\n\nShe falls back in tears.\n\n\"The world is abominable. My bosom feels the lack of air.\n\n\"O Mercury, inventor of the lyre, and conductor of souls, bear me away!\"\n\nShe places a finger upon her mouth, and, describing an immense parabola,\ntopples over into the abyss.\n\nAnd now nothing can be seen. The darkness is complete.\n\nIn the meantime two red arrows seem to escape from the pupils of\nHilarion.\n\nAntony at length notices his high stature:\n\n\"Many times already, while you were speaking, you appeared to me to be\ngrowing tall; and it was not an illusion. How is this? Explain it to me.\nYour appearance appals me!\"\n\nSteps draw nigh.\n\n\"What is this now?\"\n\nHilarion stretches forth his arms:\n\n\"Look!\"\n\nThen, under a pale ray of the moon, Antony distinguishes an interminable\ncaravan which defiles over the crest of the rocks; and each passenger,\none after another, falls from the cliff into the gulf.\n\nFirst, there are the three great gods of Samothrace--Axieros, Axiokeros,\nand Axiokersa--joined in a cluster, with purple masks, and their hands\nraised.\n\nAEsculapius advances with a melancholy air, without even seeing Samos and\nTelesphorus, who question him with anguish. Sosipolis, the Elean, with\nthe form of a python, rolls out his rings towards the abyss.\nDoesp[oe]na, through vertigo, flings herself in there of her own accord.\nBritomartis, shrieking with fear, clasps the folds of her fillet. The\nCentaurs arrive with a great galloping, and dash, pell-mell, into the\nblack hole.\n\nLimping behind them come the sad group of nymphs. Those of the meadows\nare covered with dust; those of the woods groan and bleed, wounded by\nthe woodcutters' axes.\n\nThe Gelludae, the Stryges, the Empusae, all the infernal goddesses\nintermingling their hooks, their torches, and their snakes, form a\npyramid; and at the summit, upon a vulture's skin, Eurynomus, bluish\nlike flesh-flies, devours his own arms.\n\nThen in a whirlwind disappears at the same time, Orthia the sanguinary,\nHymnia of Orchomena, the Saphria of the Patraeans, Aphia of AEgina, Bendis\nof Thrace, and Stymphalia with the leg of a bird. Triopas, in place of\nthree eyeballs, has nothing more than three orbits. Erichthonius, with\nspindle-shanks, crawls like a cripple on his wrists.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"What happiness, is it not, to see all of them in a state of\nabjectness and agony? Mount with me on this stone, and you will be like\nXerxes reviewing his army.\n\n\"Yonder, at a great distance, in the midst of fogs, do you perceive that\ngiant with yellow beard who lets fall a sword red with blood? He is the\nScythian Zalmoxis between two planets--Artimpasa, Venus; and Orsiloche,\nthe Moon.\n\n\"Farther off, emerging out of the pale clouds, are the gods who are\nadored by the Cimmerians, beyond even Thule!\n\n\"Their great halls were warm, and by the light of the naked swords that\ncovered the vault they drank hydromel in horns of ivory. They ate the\nliver of the whale in copper plates forged by the demons, or else they\nlistened to the captive sorcerers sweeping their hands across the harps\nof stone. They are weary! they are cold! The snow wears down their\nbearskins, and their feet are exposed through the rents in their\nsandals.\n\n\"They mourn for the meadows where, upon hillocks of grass, they used to\nrecover breath in the battle, the long ships whose prows cut through the\nmountains of ice, and the skates they used in order to follow the orbit\nof the poles while carrying on the extremities of their arms the\nfirmament, which turned around with them.\"\n\nA shower of hoar-frost pours down upon them. Antony lowers his glance to\nthe opposite side, and he perceives--outlining themselves in black upon\na red background--strange personages with chin-pieces and gauntlets, who\nthrow balls at one another, leap one on top of the other, make grimaces,\nand dance frantically.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"These are the gods of Etruria, the innumerable AEsars. Here\nis Tages, the inventor of auguries. He attempts with one hand to\nincrease the divisions of the heavens, while with the other he leans\nupon the earth. Let him come back to it!\n\n\"Nortia is contemplating the wall into which she drove nails to mark the\nnumber of the years. Its surface is covered and its last period\naccomplished. Like two travellers driven about by a tempest, Kastur and\nPolutuk take shelter under the same mantle.\"\n\n_Antony_, closes his eyes--\"Enough! Enough!\"\n\nBut now through the air with a great noise of wings pass all the\nVictories of the Capitol, hiding their foreheads in their hands, and\nlosing the trophies suspended from their arms.\n\nJanus, master of the twilight, flies away upon a black ram, and of his\ntwo faces one is already putrefied, while the other is benumbed with\nfatigue.\n\nSummanus--god of the gloomy sky, who no longer has a head--presses\nagainst his heart an old cake in the form of a wheel.\n\nVesta, under a ruined cupola, tries to rekindle her extinguished lamp.\n\nBellona gashes her cheeks without causing the blood, which used to\npurify her devotees, to flow out.\n\n_Antony_--\"Pardon! They weary me!\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"Formerly they used to be entertaining!\"\n\nAnd he points out to Antony, in a grove of beech-trees a woman perfectly\nnaked--with four paws like a beast--bestridden by a black man holding in\neach hand a torch.\n\n\"This is the goddess Aricia with the demon Virbius. Her priest, the\nmonarch of the woods, happened to be an assassin; and the fugitive\nslaves, the despoilers of corpses, the brigands of the Salarian road,\nthe cripples of the Sublician bridge, all the vermin of the garrets of\nthe Suburra, had not dearer devotion!\n\n\"The patrician ladies of Mark Antony's time preferred Libitina.\"\n\nAnd he shows him under the cypresses and rose-trees another woman\nclothed in gauze. She smiles, though she is surrounded by pickaxes,\nlitters, black hangings, and all the utensils of funerals. Her diamonds\nglitter from afar among cobwebs. The Larvae, like skeletons, display\ntheir bones amid the branches, and the Lemures, who are phantoms, spread\nout their bats' wings.\n\nOn the side of a field the god Terma is bent down, torn asunder, and\ncovered with filth.\n\nIn the midst of a ridge the huge corpse of Vertumnus is being devoured\nby red dogs. The rustic gods depart weeping, Sartor, Sarrator,\nVervactor, Eollina, Vallona, and Hostilenus--all covered with little\nhooded cloaks, and each bearing a mattock, a fork, a hurdle, and a\nboar-spear.\n\n_Hilarion_--\"It was their spirits that made the villa prosper with its\ndove-cotes, its park for dormice, its poultry-yards protected by snares,\nand its hot stables embalmed with cedar.\n\n\"They protected all the wretched people who dragged the fetters with\ntheir legs over the pebbles of the Sabina, those who called the hogs\nwith the sound of the trumpet, those who gathered the grapes on the tops\nof the elm-trees, those who drove through the by-roads the asses laden\nwith dung. The husbandman, while he panted over the handle of his\nplough, prayed to them to strengthen his arms; and the cow-herds, in the\nshadow of the lime-trees, beside gourds of milk, chanted their eulogies\nby turns upon flutes of reeds.\"\n\nAntony sighs.\n\nAnd in the middle of a chamber, upon a platform, a bed of ivory is\nrevealed, surrounded by persons lifting up pine-torches.\n\n\"Those are the gods of marriage. They are awaiting the bride.\n\n\"Domiduca has to lead her in, Virgo to undo her girdle, Subigo to\nstretch her upon the bed, and Praema to keep back her arms, whispering\nsweet words in her ear.\n\n\"But she will not come! and they dismiss the others--Nona and Decima,\nthe nurses; the three Nixii, who are to deliver her; the two\nwet-nurses, Educa and Potina; and Carna, the cradle-rocker, whose bunch\nof hawthorns drives away bad dreams from the infant. Later, Ossipago\nwill have strengthened its knees, Barbatus will have given the beard,\nStimula the first desires, and Volupia the first enjoyment; Fabulinus\nwill have taught it how to speak, Numera how to count, Cam[oe]na how to\nsing, and Consus how to think.\"\n\nThe chamber is empty, and there remains no longer at the side of the bed\nanyone but Naenia--a hundred years old--muttering to herself the lament\nwhich she poured forth on the death of old men.\n\nBut soon her voice is lost amid bitter cries, which come from the\ndomestic lares, squatted at the end of the atrium, clad in dogs' skins,\nwith flowers around their bodies, holding their closed hands up to their\ncheeks, and weeping as much as they can.\n\n\"Where is the portion of food which is given to us at each meal, the\ngood attentions of maid-servant, the smile of the matron, and the gaiety\nof the little boys playing with huckle-bones on the mosaic of the\ncourtyard? Then, when they have grown big, they hang over our breasts\ntheir gold or leather bullae.\n\n\"What happiness, when, on the evening of a triumph, the master,\nreturning home, turned towards us his humid eyes! He told the story of\nhis contests, and the narrow house was more stately than a palace, and\nmore sacred than a temple.\n\n\"How pleasant were the repasts of the family, especially the day after\nthe Feralia! The feeling of tenderness towards the dead dispelled all\ndiscords; and people embraced one another, drinking to the glories of\nthe past, and to the hopes of the future.\n\n\"But the ancestors in painted wax, shut up behind us, became gradually\ncovered with mouldiness. The new races, to punish us for their own\ndeceptions, have broken our jaws; and under the rats' teeth our bodies\nof wood have crumbled away.\"\n\nAnd the innumerable gods, watching at the doors, in the kitchen, in the\ncellar, and in the stoves, disperse on all sides, under the appearance\nof enormous ants running away, or huge butterflies on the wing.\n\nThen a thunderclap.\n\n_A voice_--\"I was the God of armies, the Lord, the Lord God!\n\n\"I have unfolded on the hills the tents of Jacob, and nourished in the\nsands my fugitive people. It was I who burned Sodom! It was I who\nengulfed the earth beneath the Deluge! It was I who drowned Pharaoh,\nwith the royal princes, the war-chariots, and the charioteers. A jealous\nGod, I execrated the other gods. I crushed the impure; I overthrew the\nproud; and my desolation rushed to right and left, like a dromedary let\nloose in a field of maize.\n\n\"To set Israel free, I chose the simple. Angels, with wings of flame,\nspoke to them in the bushes.\n\n\"Perfumed with spikenard, cinnamon, and myrrh, with transparent robes\nand high-heeled shoes, women of intrepid heart went forth to slay the\ncaptains. The passing wind bore away the prophets.\n\n\"I engraved my law on tablets of stone. It shut in my people as in a\ncitadel. They were my people. I was their God! The earth was mine, and\nmen were mine, with their thoughts, their works, the implements with\nwhich they tilled the soil, and their posterity.\n\n\"My ark rested in a triple sanctuary, behind purple curtains and flaming\nlamps. For my ministry I had an entire tribe, who swung the censers,\nand the high-priest in a robe of hyacinth, and wearing precious stones\nupon his breast arranged in regular order.\n\n\"Woe! woe! The Holy of Holies is flung open; the veil is rent; the\nodours of the holocaust are scattered to all the winds. The jackals\nwhine in the sepulchres; my temple is destroyed; my people are\ndispersed!\n\n\"They have strangled the priests with the cords of their vestments. The\nwomen are captives; the sacred vessels are all melted down!\"\n\nThe voice, dying away:\n\n\"I was the God of armies, the Lord, the Lord God!\" Then comes an\nappalling silence, a profound darkness.\n\n_Antony_--\"They are all gone!\"\n\n\"I remain!\" says some one.\n\nAnd, face to face with him stands Hilarion, but transfigured--beautiful\nas an archangel, luminous as a sun, and so tall that, in order to see\nhim, Antony lifts up his head--\"Who, then, are you?\"\n\n_Hilarion_--\"My kingdom is as wide as the universe, and my desire has no\nlimits. I am always going about enfranchising the mind and weighing the\nworlds, without hate, without fear, without love, and without God. I am\ncalled Science.\"\n\n_Antony_, recoiling backwards--\"You must be, rather, the Devil!\"\n\n_Hilarion_, fixing his eyes upon him--\"Do you wish to see him?\"\n\nAntony no longer avoids his glance. He is seized with curiosity\nconcerning the Devil. His terror increases; his longing becomes\nmeasureless.\n\n\"If I saw him, however--if I saw him?\" ... Then, in a spasm of rage:\n\n\"The horror that I have of him will rid me of him forever. Yes!\"\n\nA cloven foot reveals itself. Antony is filled with regret. But the\nDevil overshadows him with his horns, and carries him off.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE MYSTERY OF SPACE.\n\n\nHe flies under Antony's body, extended like a swimmer; his two great\nwings, outspread, entirely concealing him, resemble a cloud.\n\n_Antony_--\"Where am I going? Just now I caught a glimpse of the form of\nthe Accursed One. No! a cloud is carrying me away. Perhaps I am dead,\nand am mounting up to God? ...\n\n\"Ah! how well I breathe! The untainted air inflates my soul. No more\nheaviness! no more suffering!\n\n\"Beneath me, the thunderbolt darts forth, the horizon widens, rivers\ncross one another. That light spot is the desert; that pool of water the\nocean. And other oceans appear--immense regions of which I had no\nknowledge. There are black lands that smoke like live embers, a belt of\nsnow ever obscured by the mists. I am trying to discover the mountains\nwhere each evening the sun goes to sleep.\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"The sun never goes to sleep!\"\n\nAntony is not startled by this voice. It appears to him an echo of his\nthought--a response of his memory.\n\nMeanwhile, the earth takes the form of a ball, and he perceives it in\nthe midst of the azure turning on its poles while it winds around the\nsun.\n\n_The Devil_--\"So, then, it is not the centre of the world? Pride of man,\nhumble thyself!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"I can scarcely distinguish it now. It is intermingled with\nthe other fires. The firmament is but a tissue of stars.\"\n\nThey continue to ascend.\n\n\"No noise! not even the crying of the eagles! Nothing! ... and I bend\ndown to listen to the music of the spheres.\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"You cannot hear them! No longer will you see the\nantichthon of Plato, the focus of Philolaues, the spheres of Aristotle,\nor the seven heavens of the Jews with the great waters above the vault\nof crystal!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"From below it appeared as solid as a wall. But now, on the\ncontrary, I am penetrating it; I am plunging into it!\"\n\nAnd he arrives in front of the moon--which is like a piece of ice, quite\nround, filled with a motionless light.\n\n_The Devil_--\"This was formerly the abode of souls. The good Pythagoras\nhad even supplied it with birds and magnificent flowers.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"I see nothing there save desolate plains, with extinct\ncraters, under a black sky.\n\n\"Come towards those stars with a softer radiance, so that we may gaze\nupon the angels who hold them with the ends of their arms, like\ntorches!\"\n\nThe Devil carries him into the midst of the stars.\n\n\"They attract one another at the same time that they repel one another.\nThe action of each has an effect on the others, and helps to produce\ntheir movements--and all this without the medium of an auxiliary, by the\nforce of a law, by the virtue simply of order.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Yes ... yes! my intelligence grasps it! It is a joy greater\nthan the sweetness of affection! I pant with stupefaction before the\nimmensity of God!\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"Like the firmament, which rises in proportion as you\nascend, He will become greater according as your imagination mounts\nhigher; and you will feel your joy increase in proportion to the\nunfolding of the universe, in this enlargement of the Infinite.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Ah! higher! ever higher!\"\n\nThe stars multiply and shed around their scintillations. The Milky Way\nat the zenith spreads out like an immense belt, with gaps here and\nthere; in these clefts, amid its brightness, dark tracts reveal\nthemselves. There are showers of stars, trains of golden dust, luminous\nvapours which float and then dissolve.\n\nSometimes a comet sweeps by suddenly; then the tranquillity of the\ncountless lights is renewed.\n\nAntony, with open arms, leans on the Devil's two horns, thus occupying\nthe entire space covered by his wings. He recalls with disdain the\nignorance of former days, the limitation of his ideas. Here, then, close\nbeside him, were those luminous globes which he used to gaze at from\nbelow. He traces the crossing of their paths, the complexity of their\ndirections. He sees them coming from afar, and, suspended like stones in\na sling, describing their orbits and pushing forward their parabolas.\n\nHe perceives, with a single glance, the Southern Cross and the Great\nBear, the Lynx and the Centaur, the nebulae of the Gold-fish, the six\nsuns in the constellation of Orion, Jupiter with his four satellites,\nand the triple ring of the monstrous Saturn! all the planets, all the\nstars which men should, in future days, discover! He fills his eyes with\ntheir light; he overloads his mind with a calculation of their\ndistances;--then he lets his head fall once more.\n\n\"What is the object of all this?\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"There is no object!\n\n\"How could God have had an object? What experience could have\nenlightened Him, what reflection enabled Him to judge? Before the\nbeginning of things, it would not have operated, and now it would be\nuseless.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Nevertheless, He created the world, at one period of time, by\nHis mere word!\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"But the beings who inhabit the earth came there\nsuccessively. In the same way, in the sky, new stars arise--different\neffects from various causes.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"The variety of causes is the will of God!\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"But to admit in God several acts of will is to admit\nseveral causes, and thus to destroy His unity!\n\n\"His will is not separable from His essence. He cannot have a second\nwill, inasmuch as He cannot have a second essence--and, since He exists\neternally, He acts eternally.\n\n\"Look at the sun! From its borders escape great flames emitting sparks\nwhich scatter themselves to become new worlds; and, further than the\nlast, beyond those depths where only night is visible, other suns whirl\nround, and behind these others again, and others still, to infinity ...\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Enough! enough! I am terrified! I am about to fall into the\nabyss.\"\n\n_The Devil_ stops, and gently balancing himself--\n\n\"There is no such thing as nothingness! There is no vacuum! Everywhere\nthere are bodies moving over the unchangeable realms of space--and, as\nif it had any bounds it would not be space but a body, it consequently\nhas no limits!\"\n\n_Antony_, open-mouthed--\"No limits!\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"Ascend into the sky forever and ever, and you will never\nreach the top! Descend beneath the earth for millions upon millions of\ncenturies, and you will never get to the bottom--inasmuch as there is no\nbottom, no top, no end, above or below; and space is, in fact, comprised\nin God, who is not a part of space, of a magnitude that can be measured,\nbut immensity!\"\n\n_Antony_, slowly--\"Matter, in that case, would be part of God?\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"Why not? Can you tell where He comes to an end?\"\n\n_Antony_--\"On the contrary, I prostrate myself, I efface myself before\nHis power!\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"And you pretend to move Him! You speak to Him, you even\nadorn Him with virtues--goodness, justice, clemency,--in place of\nrecognising the fact that He possesses all perfections!\n\n\"To conceive anything beyond is to conceive God outside of God. Being\noutside of Being. But then He is the only Being, the only Substance.\n\n\"If substance could be divided, it would lose its nature--it would not\nbe itself; God would no longer exist. He is, therefore, indivisible as\nwell as infinite, and if He had a body, He would be made up of parts. He\nwould no longer be one; He would no longer be infinite. Therefore, He is\nnot a person!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"What? My prayers, my sobs, the sufferings of my flesh, the\ntransports of my zeal, all these things would be no better than a lie\n... in space ... uselessly--like a bird's cry, like a whirlwind of dead\nleaves!\"\n\nHe weeps.\n\n\"Oh! no! There is above everything some One, a Great Spirit, a Lord, a\nFather, whom my heart adores, and who must love me!\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"You desire that God should not be God; for, if He\nexperienced love, anger, or pity, He would pass from His perfection to a\ngreater or less perfection. He cannot descend to a sentiment, or be\ncontained under a form.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"One day, however, I shall see Him!\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"With the Blessed, is it not? When the finite shall enjoy\nthe Infinite, enclosing the Absolute in a limited space!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"No matter! There must be a Paradise for the good, as well as\na Hell for the wicked!\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"Does the exigency of your reason constitute the law of\nthings? Without doubt, evil is a matter of indifference to God, seeing\nthat the earth is covered with it!\n\n\"Is it from impotence that He endures it, or from cruelty that He\npreserves it?\n\n\"Do you think that He can be continually putting the world in order like\nan imperfect work, and that He watches over all the movements of all\nbeings, from the flight of the butterfly to the thought of man?\n\n\"If He created the universe His providence is superfluous. If Providence\nexists, creation is defective.\n\n\"But good and evil only concern you--like day and night, pleasure and\npain, death and birth, which have relationship merely to a corner of\nspace, to a special medium, to a particular interest. Inasmuch as what\nis infinite alone is permanent, the Infinite exists; and that is all!\"\n\nThe Devil has gradually extended his huge wings, and now they cover\nspace.\n\nAntony can no longer see. He is on the point of fainting:\n\n\"A horrible chill freezes me to the bottom of my soul. This exceeds the\nutmost pitch of pain. It is, as it were, a death more profound than\ndeath. I wheel through the immensity of darkness. It enters into me. My\nconsciousness is shivered to atoms under this expansion of nothingness.\"\n\n_The Devil_--\"But things happen only through the medium of your mind.\nLike a concave mirror, it distorts objects, and you need every resource\nin order to verify facts.\n\n\"Never shall you understand the universe in its full extent;\nconsequently you cannot form an idea as to its cause, so as to have a\njust notion of God, or even say that the universe is infinite, for you\nshould first comprehend the Infinite!\n\n\"Form is perhaps an error of your senses, substance an illusion of your\nintellect. Unless it be that the world, being a perpetual flux of\nthings, appearances, by a sort of contradiction, would not be a test of\ntruth, and illusion would be the only reality.\n\n\"But are you sure that you see? Are you sure that you live? Perhaps\nnothing at all exists!\"\n\nThe Devil has seized Antony, and, holding him by the extremities of his\narms, stares at him with open jaws ready to swallow him up.\n\n\"Come, adore me! and curse the phantom that you call God!\"\n\nAntony raises his eyes with a last movement of lingering hope.\n\nThe Devil quits him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE CHIMERA AND THE SPHINX.\n\n\nAntony finds himself stretched on his back at the edge of the cliff. The\nsky is beginning to grow white.\n\n\"Is this the brightness of dawn? or is it the reflection of the moon?\"\nHe tries to rise, then sinks back, and with chattering teeth:\n\n\"I feel fatigued ... as if all my bones were broken!\n\n\"Why?\n\n\"Ah! it is the Devil! I remember; and he even repeated to me all I had\nlearned from old Didymus concerning the opinions of Xenophanes, of\nHeraclitus, of Melissus, and of Anaxagoras, as well as concerning the\nInfinite, the creation, and the impossibility of knowing anything!\n\n\"And I imagined that I could unite myself to God!\"\n\nLaughing bitterly:\n\n\"Ah! madness! madness! Is it my fault? Prayer is intolerable to me! My\nheart is drier than a rock! Formerly it overflowed with love! ...\n\n\"The sand, in the morning, used to send forth exhalations on the\nhorizon, like the fumes of a censer. At the setting of the sun blossoms\nof fire burst forth from the cross, and, in the middle of the night, it\noften seemed to me that all creatures and all things, gathered in the\nsame silence, were with me adoring the Lord. Oh! charm of prayer, bliss\nof ecstasy, gifts of Heaven, what has become of you?\n\n\"I remember a journey I made with Ammon in search of a solitude in which\nwe might establish monasteries. It was the last evening, and we\nquickened our steps, murmuring hymns, side by side, without uttering a\nword. In proportion as the sun went down, the shadows of our bodies\nlengthened, like two obelisks, always enlarging and marching on in front\nof us. With the pieces of our staffs we planted the cross here and there\nto mark the site of a cell. The night came on slowly, and black waves\nspread over the earth, while an immense sheet of red still occupied the\nsky.\n\n\"When I was a child, I used to amuse myself in constructing hermitages\nwith pebbles. My mother, close beside me, used to watch what I was\ndoing.\n\n\"She was going to curse me for abandoning her, tearing her white locks.\nAnd her corpse remained stretched in the middle of the cell, beneath the\nroof of reeds, between the tottering walls. Through a hole, a hyena,\nsniffing, thrusts forward his jaws! ... Horror! horror!\"\n\nHe sobs.\n\n\"No: Ammonaria would not have left her!\n\n\"Where is Ammonaria now?\n\n\"Perhaps, in a hot bath she is drawing off her garments one by one,\nfirst her cloak, then her girdle, then her outer tunic, then her inner\none, then the wrappings round her neck; and the vapour of cinnamon\nenvelops her naked limbs. At last she sinks to sleep on the tepid floor.\nHer hair, falling around her hips, looks like a black fleece--and,\nalmost suffocating in the overheated atmosphere, she draws breath, with\nher body bent forward and her breasts projecting. Hold! here is my flesh\nbreaking into revolt. In the midst of anguish, I am tortured by\nvoluptuousness. Two punishments at the same time--it is too much! I can\nno longer endure my own body!\"\n\nHe stoops down and gazes over the precipice.\n\n\"The man who falls over that will be killed. Nothing easier, by simply\nrolling over on the left side: it is necessary to take only one step!\nonly one!\"\n\nThen appears an old woman.\n\nAntony rises with a start of error. He imagines that he sees his mother\nrisen from the dead.\n\nBut this one is much older and excessively emaciated. A winding-sheet,\nfastened round her head, hangs with her white hair down to the very\nextremities of her legs, thin as sticks. The brilliancy of her teeth,\nwhich are like ivory, makes her clayey skin look darker. The sockets of\nher eyes are full of gloom, and in their depths flicker two flames, like\nlamps in a sepulchre.\n\n\"Come forward,\" she says; \"what keeps you back?\"\n\n_Antony_, stammering--\"I am afraid of committing a sin!\"\n\nShe resumes:\n\n\"But King Saul was slain! Razias, a just man, was slain! Saint Pelagius\nof Antioch was slain! Dominius of Aleppo and his two daughters, three\nmore saints, were slain;--and recall to your mind all the confessors\nwho, in their eagerness to die, rushed to meet their executioners. In\norder to taste death the more speedily, the virgins of Miletus strangled\nthemselves with their cords. The philosopher, Hegesias, at Syracuse\npreached so well on the subject, that people deserted the brothels to\nhang themselves in the fields. The Roman patricians sought for death as\nif it were a debauch.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Yes, it is a powerful passion! Many an anchorite has yielded\nto it.\"\n\n_The old woman_--\"To do a thing which makes you equal to God--think of\nthat! He created you; you are about to destroy His work, you, by your\ncourage, freely. The enjoyment of Erostrates was not greater. And then,\nyour body is thus mocked by your soul in order that you may avenge\nyourself in the end. You will have no pain. It will soon be over. What\nare you afraid of? A large black hole! It is empty, perhaps!\"\n\nAntony listens without saying anything in reply;--and, on the other\nside, appears another woman, marvellously young and beautiful. At first,\nhe takes her for Ammonaria. But she is taller, fair as honey, rather\nplump, with paint on her cheeks, and roses on her head. Her long robe,\ncovered with spangles, is studded with metallic mirrors. Her fleshly\nlips have a look of blood, and her somewhat heavy eyelashes are so much\nbathed in languor that one would imagine she was blind. She murmurs:\n\n\"Come, then, and enjoy yourself. Solomon recommends pleasure. Go where\nyour heart leads you, and according to the desire of your eyes.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"To find what pleasure? My heart is sick; my eyes are dim!\"\n\nShe replies:\n\n\"Hasten to the suburb of Racotis; push open a door painted blue; and,\nwhen you are in the atrium, where a jet of water is gurgling, a woman\nwill present herself--in a peplum of white silk edged with gold, her\nhair dishevelled, and her laugh like sounds made by rattlesnakes. She is\nclever. In her caress you will taste the pride of an initiation, and the\nsatisfaction of a want. Have you pressed against your bosom a maiden who\nloved you? Recall to your mind her remorse, which vanished under a flood\nof sweet tears. You can imagine yourself--can you not?--walking through\nthe woods beneath the light of the moon. At the pressure of your hands\njoined with hers a shudder runs through both of you; your eyes, brought\nclose together, overflow from one to the other like immaterial waves,\nand your heart is full; it is bursting; it is a delicious whirlwind, an\noverpowering intoxication.\"\n\n_The old woman_--\"You need not experience joys to feel their bitterness!\nYou need only see them from afar, and disgust takes possession of you.\nYou must needs be wearied with the monotony of the same actions, the\nduration of the days, the ugliness of the world, and the stupidity of\nthe sun!\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Oh! yes; all that it shines upon is displeasing to me.\"\n\n_The young woman_--\"Hermit! hermit! you shall find diamonds among the\npebbles, fountains beneath the sand, a delight in the dangers which you\ndespise; and there are even places on the earth so beautiful that you\nare filled with a longing to embrace them.\"\n\n_The old woman_--\"Every evening when you lie down to sleep on the earth,\nyou hope that it may soon cover you.\"\n\n_The young woman_--\"Nevertheless, you believe in the resurrection of the\nflesh, which is the transport of life into eternity.\"\n\nThe old woman, while speaking, has been growing more emaciated, and,\nabove her skull, which has no hair upon it, a bat has been making\ncircles in the air.\n\nThe young woman has become plumper. Her robe changes colour; her\nnostrils swell; her eyes roll softly.\n\nThe first says, opening her arms:\n\n\"Come! I am consolation, rest, oblivion, eternal peace!\"\n\nAnd the second offering her breast:\n\n\"I am the soother, the joy, the life, the happiness inexhaustible!\"\n\nAntony turns on his heel to fly. Each of them places a hand upon his\nshoulder.\n\nThe winding-sheet flies open, and reveals the skeleton of Death. The\nrobe bursts open, and presents to view the entire body of Lust, which\nhas a slender figure, with an enormous development behind, and great,\nundulating masses of hair, disappearing towards the end.\n\nAntony remains motionless between the pair, contemplating them.\n\n_Death_ says to him--\n\n\"This moment, or a little later--what does it matter? You belong to me,\nlike the suns, the nations, the cities, the kings, the snow on the\nmountains, and the grass in the fields. I fly higher than the\nsparrow-hawk, I run more quickly than the gazelle; I keep pace even with\nhope; I have conquered God!\"\n\n_Lust_--\"Do not resist; I am omnipotent. The forests echo with my sighs;\nthe waves are stirred by my agitations. Virtue, courage, piety, are\ndissolved in the perfume of my breath. I accompany man at every step he\ntakes; and on the threshold of the tomb he comes back to me.\"\n\n_Death_--\"I will reveal to you what you tried to grasp by the light of\ntorches on the features of the dead--or when you rambled beyond the\nPyramids in those vast sand-heaps composed of human remains. From time\nto time, a piece of skull rolled under your sandal. You took it out of\nthe dust; you made it slip between your fingers; and your mind, becoming\nabsorbed in it, was plunged into nothingness.\"\n\n_Lust_--\"Mine is a deeper gulf! Marble slabs have inspired impure loves.\nPeople rush towards meetings that terrify them, and rivet the very\nchains which they curse. Whence comes the witchery of courtesans, the\nextravagance of dreams, the immensity of my sadness?\"\n\n_Death_--\"My irony surpasses that of all other things. There are\nconvulsions of joy at the funerals of kings and at the extermination of\npeoples; and they make war with music, plumes, flags, golden harnesses,\nand a display of ceremony to pay me the greater homage.\"\n\n_Lust_--\"My anger is as strong as yours. I howl, I bite, I have sweats\nof agony, and corpse-like appearances.\"\n\n_Death_--\"It is I who make you serious; let us embrace each other!\"\n\nDeath chuckles; Lust roars. They seize each other's figures, and sing\ntogether:\n\n\"I hasten the dissolution of matter.\"\n\n\"I facilitate the scattering of germs!\"\n\n\"Thou destroyest that I may renew!\"\n\n\"Thou engenderest that I may destroy!\"\n\n\"Active my power!\"\n\n\"Fruitful my decay!\"\n\nAnd their voices, whose echoes, rolling forth, fill the horizon, become\nso powerful that Antony falls backward.\n\nA shock, from time to time, causes him to half open his eyes; and he\nperceives, in the midst of the darkness, a kind of monster before him.\n\nIt is a death's-head with a crown of roses. It rises above the torso of\na woman white as mother-of-pearl. Beneath, a winding-sheet, starred with\npoints of gold, makes a kind of train;--and the entire body undulates,\nlike a gigantic worm holding itself erect.\n\nThe vision grows fainter, and then fades away.\n\n_Antony_, rises again--\"This time, once more, it was the Devil, and\nunder his two-fold aspect--the spirit of voluptuousness and the spirit\nof destruction. Neither terrifies me. I thrust happiness aside, and feel\nthat I am eternal.\n\n\"Thus, death is only an illusion, a veil, masking at certain points the\ncontinuity of life. But substance, being one, why is there a variety of\nforms? There must be somewhere primordial figures, whose bodies are only\nimages. If one could see, one would know the bond between mind and\nmatter, wherein Being consists!\n\n\"There are those figures which were painted at Babylon on the wall of\nthe temple of Belus, and they covered a mosaic in the port of Carthage.\nI, myself, have sometimes seen in the sky what seemed like forms of\nspirits. Those who traverse the desert meet animals passing all\nconception ...\"\n\nAnd, opposite him, on the other side of the Nile, lo! the Sphinx\nappears.\n\nIt stretches out its feet, shakes the fillets on its forehead, and lies\ndown upon its belly.\n\nJumping, flying, spirting fire through its nostrils, and striking its\nwings with its dragon's tail, the Chimera with its green eyes, winds\nround, and barks. The curls of its head, thrown back on one side,\nintermingle with the hair on its haunches; and on the other side they\nhang over the sand, and move to and fro with the swaying of its entire\nbody.\n\nThe Sphinx is motionless, and gazes at the Chimera:\n\n\"Here, Chimera; stop!\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"No, never!\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"Do not run so quickly; do not fly so high; do not bark so\nloud!\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"Do not address me, do not address me any more, since you\nremain forever silent!\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"Cease casting your flames in my face and flinging your\nyells in my ears; you shall not melt my granite!\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"You will not get hold of me, terrible Sphinx!\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"You are too foolish to live with me!\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"You are too clumsy to follow me!\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"And where are you going that you run so quickly?\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"I gallop into the corridors of the labyrinth; I hover\nover the mountains; I skim along the waves; I yelp at the bottoms of\nprecipices; I hang by my jaws on the skirts of the clouds. With my\ntrailing tail I scratch the coasts, and the hills have taken their curb\naccording to the form of my shoulders. But as for you, I find you\nperpetually motionless; or, rather, with the end of your claw tracing\nletters on the sand.\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"That is because I keep my secret! I reflect and I\ncalculate. The sea returns to its bed; the blades of corn balance\nthemselves in the wind; the caravans pass; the dust flies off; the\ncities crumble;--but my glance, which nothing can turn aside, remains\nconcentrated on the objects which cover an inaccessible horizon.\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"As for me, I am light and joyous! I discover in men\ndazzling perspectives, with Paradises in the clouds and distant\nfelicities. I pour into their souls the eternal insanities, projects of\nhappiness, plans for the future, dreams of glory, and oaths of love, as\nwell as virtuous resolutions. I drive them on perilous voyages and on\nmighty enterprises. I have carved with my claws the marvels of\narchitecture. It is I that hung the little bells on the tomb of\nPorsenna, and surrounded with a wall of Corinthian brass the quays of\nthe Atlantides.\n\n\"I seek fresh perfumes, larger flowers, pleasures hitherto unknown. If\nanywhere I find a man whose soul reposes in wisdom, I fall upon him and\nstrangle him.\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"All those whom the desire of God torments, I have\ndevoured.\n\n\"The strongest, in order to climb to my royal forehead, mount upon the\nstripes of my fillets as on the steps of a staircase. Weariness takes\npossession of them, and they fall back of their own accord.\"\n\nAntony begins to tremble. He is not before his cell, but in the desert,\nhaving at either side of him those two monstrous animals, whose jaws\ngraze his shoulders.\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"O Fantasy, bear me on thy wings to enliven thy sadness!\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"O Unknown One, I am in love with thine eyes! I turn\nround thee, soliciting allayment of that which devours me!\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"My feet cannot raise themselves. The lichen, like a\nringworm, has grown over my mouth. By dint of thinking, I have no longer\nanything to say.\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"You lie, hypocritical Sphinx! How is it that you are\nalways addressing me and abjuring me?\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"It is you, unmanageable caprice, who pass and whirl\nabout.\"\n\n_The Chimera_--\"Is that my fault? Come, now, just let me be!\"\n\nIt barks.\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"You move away; you avoid me!\"\n\nThe Sphinx grumbles.\n\n_The Chimera_--\"Let us make the attempt! You crush me!\"\n\n_The Sphinx_--\"No; impossible!\"\n\nAnd sinking, little by little, it disappears in the sand, while the\nChimera, crawling, with its tongue out, departs with a winding movement.\n\nThe breath issuing from its mouth has produced a fog.\n\nIn this fog Antony traces masses of clouds and imperfect curves.\nFinally, he distinguishes what appear to be human bodies.\n\nAnd first advances the group of Astomi, like air-balls passing across\nthe sun.\n\n\"Don't puff too strongly! The drops of rain bruise us; the false sounds\nexcoriate us; the darkness blinds us. Composed of breezes and of\nperfumes, we roll, we float--a little more than dreams, not entirely\nbeings.\"\n\nThe Nisnas have but one eye, one cheek, one hand, one leg, half a body,\nand half a heart. And they say, in a very loud tone:\n\n\"We live quite at our ease in our halves of houses with our halves of\nwives and our halves of children.\"\n\n_The Blemmyes_, absolutely bereft of heads--\n\n\"Our shoulders are the largest;--and there is not an ox, a rhinoceros,\nor an elephant that is capable of carrying what we carry.\n\n\"Arrows, and a sort of vague outline are imprinted on our breasts--that\nis all! We reduce digestion to thought; we subtilise secretions. For us\nGod floats peacefully in the internal chyle.\n\n\"We proceed straight on our way, passing through every mire, running\nalong the verge of every abyss; and we are the most industrious, happy,\nand virtuous people.\"\n\n_The Pygmies_--\"Little good-fellows, we swarm over the world, like\nvermin on the hump of a dromedary.\n\n\"We are burnt, drowned, or run over; but we always reappear more full of\nlife and more numerous--terrible from the multitude of us that exists!\"\n\n_The Sciapodes_--\"Kept on the ground by our flowing locks, long as\ncreeping plants, we vegetate under the shelter of our feet, which are as\nlarge as parasols; and the light reaches us through the spaces between\nour wide heels. No disorder and no toil! To keep the head as low as\npossible--that is the secret of happiness!\"\n\nTheir lifted thighs, resembling trunks of trees, increase in number. And\nnow a forest appears in which huge apes rush along on four paws. They\nare men with dogs' heads.\n\n_The Cynocephali_--\"We leap from branch to branch to suck the eggs, and\nwe pluck the little birds; then we put their nests upon our heads after\nthe fashion of caps.\n\n\"We do not fail to snatch away the worst of the cows, and we destroy the\nlynxes' eyes. Tearing the flowers, crushing the fruits, agitating the\nsprings, we are the masters--by the strength of our arms and the\nfierceness of our hearts.\n\n\"Be bold, comrades, and snap your jaws!\"\n\nBlood and milk flow from their lips. The rain streams over their hairy\nbacks.\n\nAntony inhales the freshness of green leaves which are agitated as the\nbranches of the trees dash against each other. All at once appears a\nlarge black stag with a bull's head, carrying between his two ears a\nmass of white horns.\n\n_The Sadhuzag_--\"My seventy-four antlers are hollow like flutes. When I\nturn myself towards the south wind, sounds go forth from them that draw\naround me the ravished beasts. The serpents come winding to my feet; the\nwasps stick in my nostrils; and the parrots, the doves, and the ibises\nalight upon my branches. Listen!\"\n\nHe bends back his horns, from which issues an unutterably sweet music.\n\nAntony presses both his hands above his heart. It seems to him as if\nthis melody were about to carry off his soul.\n\n_The Sadhuzag_--\"But, when I turn towards the north wind, my horns, more\nbushy than a battalion of spears, emit a howling noise. The forests\nthrill; the rivers swell; the husks of the fruit burst, and blades of\ngrass stand erect like a coward's hair. Listen!\"\n\nHe bows down his branches, from which now come forth discordant cries.\nAntony feels as if he were torn asunder, and his horror is increased on\nseeing the Mantichor, a gigantic red lion with a human figure and three\nrows of teeth:\n\n\"The silky texture of my scarlet hair mingles with the yellowness of the\nsands. I breathe through my nostrils the terror of solitudes. I spit\nforth the plague. I devour armies when they venture into the desert. My\nnails are twisted like gimlets; my teeth are cut like a saw; and my\nhair, wriggled out of shape, bristles with darts which I scatter, right\nand left, behind me. Hold! hold!\"\n\nThe Mantichor casts thorns from his tail, which radiate, like arrows, in\nall directions. Drops of blood flow, spattering over the foliage.\n\nThe Catoblepas appears, a black buffalo, with a pig's head hanging to\nthe earth, and connected with his shoulders by a slender neck, long and\nflabby as an empty gut. He is wallowing on the ground; and his feet\ndisappear under the enormous mane of hard hairs that descend over his\nface:\n\n\"Fat, melancholy, savage, I remain continually feeling the mire under my\nstomach. My skull is so heavy that it is impossible for me to carry it.\nI roll it around slowly; and, opening my jaws, I snatch with my tongue\nthe poisonous herbs that are moistened with my breath. I once devoured\nmy paws without noticing it.\n\n\"No one, Antony, has ever seen my eyes, or those who have seen them are\ndead. If I but raised my eyelids--my eyelids red and swollen--that\ninstant you would die.\"\n\n_Antony_--\"Oh! that thing! ... Well! well! As if I had any such longing!\nIts stupidity attracts me. No! no! I will not!\" He looks fixedly on the\nground. But the grass lights up, and, in the twistings of the flames,\nstands erect the Basilisk, a huge, violet serpent, with a trilobate\ncrest and two teeth--one above, the other below:\n\n\"Take care! You are about to fall into my jaws! I drink fire. I am fire\nmyself; and from every quarter I suck it in--from clouds, from pebbles,\nfrom dead trees, from the hair of animals, and from the surface of\nmarshes. My temperature supports the volcanoes. I cause the lustre of\nprecious stones and the colour of metals.\"\n\n_The Griffin_, a lion with a vulture's beak, white wings, red paws, and\nblue neck--\"I am the master of the profound splendours. I know the\nsecret of the tombs where the old kings sleep. A chain, which issues\nfrom the wall, keeps their heads erect. Near them, in basins of\nporphyry, women whom they have loved float upon black liquids. Their\ntreasures are ranged in halls, in lozenges, in hillocks, and in\npyramids; and, lower, far below the tombs, after long journeys in the\nmidst of suffocating darkness, are rivers of gold with forests of\ndiamonds, meadows of carbuncles, and lakes of quicksilver. With my back\nagainst the door of the vault, and my claws in the air, I watch with my\nflaming eyes those who may think fit to come there. The immense plain,\neven to the furthest point of the horizon, is quite bare and whitened\nwith travellers' bones. For you the bronze doors will open, and you will\ninhale the vapour of the mines; you will descend into the caverns ...\nQuick! quick!\"\n\nHe digs the earth with his claws, crowing like a cock.\n\nA thousand voices reply to him. The forest trembles.\n\nAnd all sorts of horrible beasts arise: the Tragelaphus, half-stag,\nhalf-ox; the Myrmecoleo, a lion in front, an ant behind, whose genitals\nare turned backwards; the python, Aksar, of sixty cubits, who frightened\nMoses; the great weasel, Pastinaca, which kills trees by its odour; the\nPresteros, which renders idiotic those who touch it; the Mirag, a horned\nhare dwelling in the islands of the sea. The Copard Phalmant bursts his\nbelly by dint of howling; the Senad, a bear with three heads, tears its\nlittle ones with its mouth; the dog, Cepus, scatters on the rocks the\nblue milk of its dugs. Mosquitoes begin to buzz, toads to jump, and\nserpents to hiss. Lightnings flash; down comes the hail.\n\nThen there are squalls, which reveal anatomical marvels. There are\nalligators' heads with roebucks' feet, owls with serpents' tails, swine\nwith tigers' muzzles, goats with asses' rumps, frogs covered with hair\nlike bears, chameleons large as hippopotami, calves with two heads, one\nof which weeps while the other bellows, four f[oe]tuses holding each\nother by the navel and spinning like tops, and winged bellies which\nflutter like gnats.\n\nThey rain down from the sky; they spring out of the ground; they glide\nfrom the rocks. Everywhere eyes flash, mouths roar; the breasts bulge\nout; the claws lengthen; the teeth gnash; the flesh quivers. Some of\nthem bring forth their young; others with a single bite, devour one\nanother.\n\nSuffocating from their very numbers, multiplying by their contact, they\nclimb on top of one another; and they all keep stirring about Antony\nwith a regular swaying motion, as if the soil were the deck of a vessel.\n\nHe feels close to his calves the trailing of slugs, and on his hands the\ncold touch of vipers; and spiders spinning their webs enclose him in\ntheir network.\n\nBut the circle of monsters begins to open; the sky suddenly becomes\nblue, and the unicorn makes its appearance:\n\n\"Off I gallop! Off I gallop!\n\n\"I have hoofs of ivory, teeth of steel, a head coloured purple, a body\nlike snow, and the horn on my forehead has the varied hues of the\nrainbow.\n\n\"I travel from Chaldea to the Tartar desert, on the banks of the Ganges,\nand into Mesopotamia. I outstrip the ostriches. I run so rapidly that I\ndraw the wind along with me. I rub my back against the palm-trees; I\nroll myself in the bamboos. With one bound I jump across the rivers.\nDoves fly above my head. Only a virgin can bridle me.\n\n\"Off I gallop! Off I gallop!\"\n\nAntony watches him flying away.\n\nAnd, keeping his eyes still raised, he perceives all the birds that are\nnourished by the wind: the Gouith, the Ahuti, the Alphalim, the Jukneth\nfrom the mountains of Caff, and the Homai of the Arabs, which are the\nsouls of murdered men. He hears the parrots utter human speech, then the\ngreat web-footed Pelasgians, who sob like children or chuckle like old\nwomen.\n\nA briny breath of air strikes his nostrils. A seashore is now before\nhim.\n\nAt a distance rise waterspouts, lashed up by the whales; and at the\nextremity of the horizon the beasts of the sea, round, like leather\nbottles, flat, like strips of metal, or indented, like saws, advance,\ncrawling over the sand:\n\n\"You are about to come with us into our unfathomable depths, never\npenetrated by man before. Different races dwell in the country of the\nocean. Some are in the abode of the tempests; others swim openly in the\ntransparency of the cold waves, browse like oxen over the coral plains,\nsniff in with their nostrils the ebbing tide, or carry on their\nshoulders the weight of the ocean-springs.\"\n\nPhosphorescences flash from the hairs of the seals and from the scales\nof the fishes. Sea-hedgehogs turn around like wheels; Ammon's horns\nunroll themselves like cables; oysters make sounds with the fastenings\nof their shells; polypi spread out their tentacles; medusae quiver like\ncrystal balls; sponges float; anemones squirt out water; and mosses and\nseaweed shoot up.\n\nAnd all kinds of plants spread out into branches, twist themselves into\ntendrils, lengthen into points, and grow round like fans. Pumpkins\npresent the appearance of bosoms, and creeping plants entwine themselves\nlike serpents.\n\nThe Dedaims of Babylon, which are trees, have as their fruits human\nheads; mandrakes sing; and the root Baaras runs into the grass.\n\nAnd now the plants can no longer be distinguished from the animals.\nPolyparies, which have the appearance of sycamores, carry arms on their\nbranches. Antony fancies he can trace a caterpillar between two leaves;\nit is a butterfly which flits away. He is on the point of walking over\nsome shingle when up springs a grey grasshopper. Insects, like petals of\nroses, garnish a bush; the remains of ephemera make a bed of snow upon\nthe soil.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd, next, the plants are indistinguishable from the stones.\n\nPebbles bear a resemblance to brains, stalactites to udders, and\niron-dust to tapestries adorned with figures. In pieces of ice he can\ntrace efflorescences, impressions of bushes and shells--so that one\ncannot tell whether they are the impressions of those objects or the\nobjects themselves. Diamonds glisten like eyes, and minerals palpitate.\n\nAnd he is no longer afraid! He lies down flat on his face, resting on\nhis two elbows, and, holding in his breath, he gazes around.\n\nInsects without stomachs keep eating; dried-up ferns begin to bloom\nafresh; and limbs which were wanting sprout forth again.\n\nFinally, he perceives little globular bodies as large as pins' heads,\nand garnished all round with eyelashes. A vibration agitates them.\n\n_Antony_, in ecstasy--\n\n\"O bliss! bliss! I have seen the birth of life; I have seen the\nbeginning of motion. The blood beats so strongly in my veins that it\nseems about to burst them. I feel a longing to fly, to swim, to bark, to\nbellow, to howl. I would like to have wings, a tortoise-shell, a rind,\nto blow out smoke, to wear a trunk, to twist my body, to spread myself\neverywhere, to be in everything, to emanate with odours, to grow like\nplants, to flow like water, to vibrate like sound, to shine like light,\nto be outlined on every form, to penetrate every atom, to descend to the\nvery depths of matter--to be matter!\"\n\nThe dawn appears at last; and, like the uplifted curtains of a\ntabernacle, golden clouds, wreathing themselves into large volutes,\nreveal the sky.\n\nIn the very middle of it, and in the disc of the sun itself, shines the\nface of Jesus Christ.\n\nAntony makes the sign of the Cross, and resumes his prayers.","title":"The Temptation of St. Antony; Or, A Revelation of the Soul","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":43246}