All that he has just seen becomes confused in his mind. It is like the stunning effect of a voyage, the uncomfortable sensation of drunkenness. Fain would he hate; and yet a vague pity softens his heart. He begins to weep abundantly.
Hilarion—"What is it now that makes you sad?"
Antony, after questioning himself for a long time—"I am thinking of all the souls lost through these false gods!"
Hilarion—"Do you not find that they have—in some respects—resemblances to the true?"
Antony—"This is a trick of the Devil the better to seduce the faithful. He attacks the strong through the spirit, and the others through the flesh."
Hilarion—"But lust, in its furies, possesses the disinterestedness of penitence. The frantic love of the body accelerates its destruction—and by its weakness proclaims the extent of the impossible."
Antony—"How is it that this affects me? My heart revolts with disgust against those brutish gods, always occupied with carnage and incest."
Hilarion—"Recall to yourself in the Scriptures all the things that scandalise you because you cannot understand them. In the same way, these gods, under the outward form of criminals, may contain the truth. There are some of them left to see. Turn aside!"
Antony—"No! no! it is a peril!"
Hilarion—"A moment ago you wished to make their acquaintance. Do falsehoods make your faith totter? What do you fear?"