"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 gust 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 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.