Nature had so willed it.
Why, the aged Slow Mover knew not.
Antonius was the name which the hermit bore.
When morning came I sought him out.
I found him seated by his cavern’s portal, looking out upon the glory of the eastern sky.
This was the secret of his exile:
Some cruel fate had, in his youth, visited him with a dread disease, not unlike that which is known as St. Vitus’ dance. When the fit was upon him, not only did he lose all control over his limbs, so that his feet bore him whither he willed not to go, and that, too, with extreme rapidity, but his arms likewise executed the most rapid and vigorous gestures, now in apparent anger, now entreaty, now wonder. You will readily understand why ill-fated Antonius came to be banished from the midst of the Slow Movers.
Although their brother, and deeply beloved of them, his lightning-like rapidity of motion, his violent gestures, his almost ceaseless change of attitude, not only offended the Slow Movers, it dazed them; it shocked them; it checked the sluggish flow of life blood within their veins, and threatened them all with slow but certain death.
He must go!
He did!