Hilarion—"I am worn out with constant toiling."
Antony—"The voice, too, is different. It has a tone that chills you."
Hilarion—"That is because I nourish myself on bitter fare."
Antony—"And those white locks?"
Hilarion—"I have had so many griefs."
Antony, aside—"Can it be possible? ..."
Hilarion—"I was not so far away as you imagined. The hermit, Paul, paid you a visit this year during the month of Schebar. It is just twenty days since the nomads brought you bread. You told a sailor the day before yesterday to send you three bodkins."
Antony—"He knows everything!"
Hilarion—"Learn, too, that I have never left you. But you spend long intervals without perceiving me."
Antony—"How is that? No doubt my head is troubled! To-night especially ..."