o and his two daughters, three
more saints, were slain;--and recall to your mind all the confessors
who, in their eagerness to die, rushed to meet their executioners. In
order to taste death the more speedily, the virgins of Miletus strangled
themselves with their cords. The philosopher, Hegesias, at Syracuse
preached so well on the subject, that people deserted the brothels to
hang themselves in the fields. The Roman patricians sought for death as
if it were a debauch."

_Antony_--"Yes, it is a powerful passion! Many an anchorite has yielded
to it."

_The old woman_--"To do a thing which makes you equal to God--think of
that! He created you; you are about to destroy His work, you, by your
courage, freely. The enjoyment of Erostrates was not greater. And then,
your body is thus mocked by your soul in order that you may avenge
yourself in the end. You will have no pain. It will soon be over. What
are you afraid of? A large black hole! It is empty, perhaps!"

Antony listens without saying anything in reply;--and, on the other
side, appears another woman, marvellously young and beautiful. At first,
he takes her for Ammonaria. But she is taller, fair as honey, rather
plump, with paint on her cheeks, and roses on her head. Her long robe,
covered with spangles, is studded with metallic mirrors. Her fleshly
lips have a look of blood, and her somewhat heavy eyelashes are so much
bathed in languor that one would imagine she was blind. She murmurs:

"Come, then, and enjoy yourself. Solomon recommends pleasure. Go where
your heart leads you, and according to the desire of your eyes."

_Antony_--"To find what pleasure? My heart is sick; my eyes are dim!"

She replies:

"Hasten to the suburb of Racotis; push open a door painted blue; and,
when you are in the atrium, where a jet of water is gurgling, a woman
will present herself--in a peplum of white silk edged with gold, her
hair dishevelled, and her laugh like sounds made by rattlesnakes. She is
clever. In her caress you will taste the pride of an initiation, and the
satisfaction of a want. Have you pressed against your bosom a maiden who
loved you? Recall to your mind her remorse, which vanished under a flood
of sweet tears. You can imagine yourself--can you not?--walking through
the woods beneath the light of the moon. At the pressure of your hands
joined with hers a shudder runs through both of you; your eyes, brought
close together, overflow from one to the other like im