One of the women, with a long breath:
"Ah! how pleasant is the air of the chilly night in the midst of sepulchres! I am so fatigued with the softness of couches, the noise of day, and the oppressiveness of the sun!"
A woman, panting—"Ah! at last, here I am! But how irksome to have wedded an idolater!"
Another—"The visits to the prisons, the conversations with our brethren, all excite the suspicions of our husbands! And we must even hide ourselves from them when making the sign of the Cross; they would take it for a magical conjuration."
Another—"With mine, there was nothing but quarrelling all day long. I did not like to submit to the abuses to which he subjected my person; and, for revenge, he had me persecuted as a Christian."
Another—"Recall to your memory that young man of such striking beauty who was dragged by the heels behind a chariot, like Hector, from the Esquiline Gate to the Mountains of Tibur; and his blood stained the bushes on both sides of the road. I collected the drops—here they are!"
She draws from her bosom a sponge perfectly black, covers it with kisses, and then flings herself upon the slab, crying:
"Ah! my friend! my friend!"
A man—"It is just three years to-day since Domitilla's death. She was stoned at the bottom of[Pg 75] the Wood of Proserpine. I gathered her bones, which shone like glow-worms in the grass. The earth now covers them."
He flings himself upon a tombstone.
"O my betrothed! my betrothed!"
And all the others, scattered through the plain:
"O my sister!" "O my brother!" "O my daughter!" "O my mother!"
They are on their knees, their foreheads clasped with their hands, or their bodies lying flat with both arms extended; and the sobs which they repress make their bosoms swell almost to bursting. They gaze up at the sky, saying:
"Have pity on her soul, O my God! She is languishing in the abode of shadows. Deign to admit her into the Resurrection, so that she may rejoice in Thy light!"
Or, with eyes fixed on the flagstones, they murmur:
"Be at rest—suffer no more! I have brought thee wine and meat!"
A widow—"Here is pudding, made by me, according to his taste, with many eggs, and a double measure of flour. We are going to eat together as of yore, is not that so?"
She puts a little of it on her lips, and suddenly begins to laugh in an extravagant fashion, frantically.
The others, like her, nibble a morsel and drink a mouthful; they tell one another the history of their martyrs; their sorrow becomes vehement; their libations increase; their eyes, swimming with tears, are fixed on one another; they stammer with inebriety and desolation. Gradually their hands touch; their lips meet; their veils are torn away, and they em[Pg 76]brace one another upon the tombs in the midst of the cups and the torches.
The sky begins to brighten. The mist soaks their garments; and, as if they were strangers to one another, they take their departure by different roads into the country.
The sun shines forth. The grass has grown taller; the plain has become transformed. Across the bamboos, Antony sees a forest of columns of a bluish-grey colour. Those are trunks of trees springing from a single trunk. From each of its branches descend other branches which penetrate into the soil; and the whole of those horizontal and perpendicular lines, indefinitely multiplied, might be compared to a gigantic framework were it not that here and there appears a little fig-tree with a dark foliage like that of a sycamore. Between the branches he distinguishes bunches of yellow flowers and violets, and ferns as large as birds' feathers. Under the lowest branches may be seen at different points the horns of a buffalo, or the glittering eyes of an antelope. Parrots sit perched, butterflies flutter, lizards crawl upon the ground, flies buzz; and one can hear, as it were, in the midst of the silence, the palpitation of an all-permeating life.
At the entrance of the wood, on a kind of pile, is a strange sight—a man coated over with cows' dung, completely naked, more dried-up than a mummy. His joints form knots at the extremities of his bones, which are like sticks. He has clusters of shells in his ears, his face is very long, and his nose is like a vulture's beak. His left arm is held erect in the air, crooked, and stiff as a stake; and he has remained there so long that birds have made a nest in his hair.[Pg 77]
At the four corners of his pile four fires are blazing. The sun is right in his face. He gazes at it with great open eyes, and without looking at Antony.
"Brahmin of the banks of the Nile, what sayest thou?"
Flames start out on every side through the partings of the beams; and the gymnosophist resumes:
"Like a rhinoceros, I am plunged in solitude. I dwelt in the tree that was behind me."
In fact, the large fig-tree presents in its flutings a natural excavation of the shape of a man.
"And I fed myself on flowers and fruits with such an observance of precepts that not even a dog has seen me eat.
"As existence proceeds from corruption, corruption from desire, desire from sensation, and sensation from contact, I have avoided every kind of action, every kind of contact, and—without stirring any more than the pillar of a tombstone—exhaling my breath through my two nostrils, fixing my glances upon my nose; and, observing the ether in my spirit, the world in my limbs, the moon in my heart, I pondered on the essence of the great soul, whence continually escape, like sparks of fire, the principles of life. I have, at last, grasped the supreme soul in all beings, all beings in the supreme soul; and I have succeeded in making my soul penetrate the place into which my senses used to penetrate.
"I receive knowledge directly from Heaven, like the bird Tchataka, who quenches his thirst only in the droppings of the rain. From the very fact of my having knowledge of things, things no longer exist. For me now there is no hope and no anguish, no[Pg 78] goodness, no virtue, neither day nor night, neither thou nor I—absolutely nothing.
"My frightful austerities have made me superior to the Powers. A contraction of my brain can kill a hundred kings' sons, dethrone gods, overrun the world."
He utters all this in a monotonous voice. The leaves all around him are withered. The rats fly over the ground.
He slowly lowers his eyes towards the flames, which are rising, then adds:
"I have become disgusted with form, disgusted with perception, disgusted even with knowledge itself—for thought does not outlive the transitory fact that gives rise to it; and the spirit, like the rest, is but an illusion.
"Everything that is born will perish; everything that is dead will come to life again. The beings that have actually disappeared will sojourn in wombs not yet formed, and will come back to earth to serve with sorrow other creatures. But, as I have resolved through an infinite number of existences, under the guise of gods, men, and animals, I give up travelling, and no longer wish for this fatigue. I abandon the dirty inn of my body, walled in with flesh, reddened with blood, covered with hideous skin, full of uncleanness; and, for my reward, I shall, finally, sleep in the very depths of the absolute, in annihilation."
The flames rise to his breast, then envelop him. His head stretches across as if through the hole of a wall. His eyes are perpetually fixed in a vacant stare.
Antony gets up again. The torch on the ground has set fire to the splinters of wood, and the flames have singed his beard. Bursting into an exclamation,[Pg 79] Antony tramples on the fire; and, when only a heap of cinders is left:
"Where, then, is Hilarion? He was here just now. I saw him! Ah! no; it is impossible! I am mistaken! How is this? My cell, those stones, the sand, have not, perhaps, any more reality. I must be going mad. Stay! where was I? What was happening here?
"Ah! the gymnosophist! This death is common amongst the Indian sages. Kalanos burned himself before Alexander; another did the same in the time of Augustus. What hatred of life they must have had!—unless, indeed, pride drove them to it. No matter, it is the intrepidity of martyrs! As to the others, I now believe all that has been told me of the excesses they
have occasioned.
"And before this? Yes, I recollect! the crowd of heresiarchs ... What shrieks! what eyes! But why so many outbreaks of the flesh and wanderings of the spirit?
"It is towards God they pretend to direct their thoughts in all these different ways. What right have I to curse them, I who stumble in my own path? When they have disappeared, I shall, perhaps, learn more. This one rushed away too quickly; I had not time to reply to him. Just now it is as if I had in my intellect more space and more light. I am tranquil. I feel myself capable ... But what is this now? I thought I had extinguished the fire."
A flame flutters between the rocks; and, speedily, a jerky voice makes itself heard from the mountains in the distance.
"Are those the barkings of a hyena, or the lamentations of some lost traveller?"[Pg 80]
Antony listens. The flame draws nearer.
* * *
And he sees approaching a woman who is weeping, resting on the shoulder of a man with a white beard. She is covered with a purple garment all in rags. He, like her, is bare-headed, with a tunic of the same colour, and carries a bronze vase, whence arises a small blue flame.
Antony is filled with fear,—and yet he would fain know who this woman is.
The stranger (Simon)—"This is a young girl, a poor child, whom I take everywhere with me."
He raises the bronze vase. Antony inspects her by the light of this flickering flame. She has on her face marks of bites, and traces of blows along her arms. Her scattered hair is entangled in the rents of her rags; her eyes appear insensible to the light.
Simon—"Sometimes she remains thus a long time without speaking or eating, and utters marvellous things."
Antony—"Really?"
Simon—"Eunoia! Eunoia! relate what you have to say!"
She turns around her eyeballs, as if awakening from a dream, passes her fingers slowly across her two lids, and in a mournful voice:
Helena (Eunoia)—"I have a recollection of a distant region, of the colour of emerald. There is only a single tree there."
Antony gives a start.
"At each step of its huge branches a pair of spirits stand. The branches around them cross each other, like the veins of a body, and they watch the eternal life circulating from the roots, where it is lost[Pg 81] in shadow up to the summit, which reaches beyond the sun. I, on the second branch, illumined with my face the summer nights."
Antony, touching his forehead—"Ah! ah! I understand! the head!"
Simon, with his finger on his lips—"Hush! Hush!"
Helena—"The vessel remained convex: her keel clave the foam. He said to me, 'What does it matter if I disturb my country, if I lose my kingdom! You will be mine, in my own house!'
"How pleasant was the upper chamber of his palace! He would lie down upon the ivory bed, and, smoothing my hair, would sing in an amorous strain. At the end of the day, I could see the two camps and the lanterns which they were lighting; Ulysses at the edge of his tent; Achilles, armed from head to foot, driving a chariot along the seashore."
Antony—"Why, she is quite mad! Wherefore? ..."
Simon—"Hush! Hush!"
Helena—"They rubbed me with unguents, and sold me to the people to amuse them. One evening, standing with the sistrum in my hand, I was coaxing Greek sailors to dance. The rain, like a cataract, fell upon the tavern, and the cups of hot wine were smoking. A man entered without the door having been opened."
Simon—"It was I! I found you. Here she is, Antony; she who is called Sigeh, Eunoia, Barbelo, Prounikos! The Spirits who govern the world were jealous of her, and they bound her in the body of a woman. She was the Helen of the Trojans, whose memory the poet Stesichorus had rendered infamous. She has been Lucretia, the patrician lady violated by[Pg 82] the kings. She was Delilah, who cut off the hair of Samson. She was that daughter of Israel who surrendered herself to he-goats. She has loved adultery, idolatry, lying and folly. She was prostituted by every nation. She has sung in all the cross-ways. She has kissed every face. At Tyre, she, the Syrian, was the mistress of thieves. She drank with them during the nights, and she concealed assassins amid the vermin of her tepid bed."
Antony—"Ah! what is coming over me?"
Simon, with a furious air—
"I have redeemed her, I tell you, and re-established her in all her splendour, such as Caius Cæsar Agricola became enamoured of when he desired to sleep with the Moon!"
Antony—-"Well! well!"
Simon—"But she really is the Moon! Has not Pope Clement written that she was imprisoned in a tower? Three hundred persons came to surround the tower; and on each of the murderers, at the same time, the moon was seen to appear,—though there are not many moons in the world, or many Eunoias!"
Antony—"Yes! ... I think I recollect ..."
And he falls into a reverie.
Simon—"Innocent as Christ, who died for men, she has devoted herself to women. For the powerlessness of Jehovah is demonstrated by the transgression of Adam, and we must shake off the old law, opposed, as it is, to the order of things. I have preached the new Gospel in Ephraim and in Issachar, along the torrent of Bizor, behind the lake of Houleh, in the valley of Mageddo, and beyond the mountains, at Bostra and at Damas. Let those who are covered with wine-dregs, those who are covered with dirt,[Pg 83] those who are covered with blood, come to me; and I will wash out their defilement with the Holy Spirit, called by the Greeks, Minerva. She is Minerva! She is the Holy Spirit! I am Jupiter Apollo, the Christ, the Paraclete, the great power of God incarnated in the person of Simon!"
Antony—"Ah! it is you! ... it is you! But I know your crimes! You were born at Gittha on the borders of Samaria. Dositheus, your first master, dismissed you! You execrate Saint Paul for having converted one of your women; and, vanquished by Saint Peter, in your rage and terror, you flung into the waves the bag which contained your magical instruments!"
Simon—"Do you desire them?"
Antony looks at him, and an inner voice murmurs in his breast, "Why not?"
Simon resumes:
"He who understands the powers of Nature and the substance of spirits ought to perform miracles. It is the dream of all sages—and the desire of which gnaws you; confess it!
"Amongst the Romans I flew so high in the circus that they saw me no more. Nero ordered me to be decapitated; but it was a sheep's head that fell to the ground instead of mine. Finally, they buried me alive; but I came back to life on the third day. The proof of it is that I am here!"
He gives him his hands to smell. They have the odour of a corpse. Antony recoils.
"I can make bronze serpents move, marble statues laugh, and dogs speak. I will show you an immense quantity of gold, I will set up kings, you shall see nations adoring me. I can walk on the clouds and[Pg 84] on the waves; pass through mountains; assume the appearance of a young man, or of an old man; of a tiger, or of an ant; take your face, give you mine; and drive the thunderbolt. Do you hear?"
The thunder rolls, followed by flashes of lightning.
"It is the voice of the Most High, 'for the Eternal, thy God, is a fire,' and all creations operate by the emanations of this central fire. You are about to receive the baptism of it—that second baptism, announced by Jesus, which fell on the Apostles one stormy day when the window was open!"
And all the while stirring the flame with his hand, slowly, as if to sprinkle Antony with it:
"Mother of Mercies, thou who discoverest secrets in order that we may have rest in the eighth house ..."
Antony exclaims:
"Ah! if I had holy water!"
The flame goes out, producing much smoke.
Eunoia and Simon have disappeared.
* * *
An extremely cold fog, opaque and f[oe]tid, fills the atmosphere.
Antony, extending his arms like a blind man—
"Where am I? ... I am afraid of falling into the abyss. And the cross, no doubt, is too far away from me. Ah! what a night! what a night!"
A sudden gus
t of wind cleaves the fog asunder; and he perceives two men covered with long white tunics. The first is of tall stature, with a sweet expression of countenance and grave deportment. His white hair, parted like that of Christ, descends regularly over his shoulders. He has thrown down a wand which he was carrying in his hand, and which[Pg 85] his companion has taken up, making a respectful bow after the fashion of Orientals. The other is small, coarse-looking, flat-nosed, with a thick neck, curly hair, and an air of simplicity. Both of them are bare-footed, bare-headed, and covered with dust, like people who have come on a long journey.
Antony, with a start—"What do ye seek? Speak! Go on!"
Damis—He is the little man—
"La, la! ... worthy hermit! what do you say? I know nothing about it. Here is the Master!"
He sits down; the other remains standing. Silence.
Antony, resumes—"Ye come in this fashion? ..."
Damis—"Oh! a great distance—a very great distance!"
Antony—"And ye are going? ..."
Damis, pointing at his companion—"Wherever he wishes."
Antony—"Who, then, is he?"
Damis—"Look at him."
Antony—"He has the appearance of a saint. If I dared ..."
The fog by this time is quite gone. The atmosphere has become perfectly clear. The moon shines out.
Damis—"What are you thinking of now that you say nothing more?"
Antony—"I am thinking of——Oh! nothing."
Damis draws close to Apollonius, makes many turns round him, with his figure bent, and without moving his head.