"Let us be little children," he said. "Let us do anything that comes into our heads."
So they ran in and out among pleasures together, joined strange dances and sang strange songs. They clapped their hands to jugglers and acrobats, and animals tortured into talent. And sometimes, as the gaudy theatre resounded about them, they looked so still at each other that all the rest faded away, and they were left alone with each other's eyes and great thoughts of God.
"I love you, Silencieux."
"I love you, Antony."
"You will never leave me lonely in my dream, Silencieux?"
"Never, Antony."
Oh, how tender sometimes was Silencieux!
Several nights they had the whim that Silencieux should masquerade in the wardrobe of her past.
"To-night, you shall go clothed as when you loved that woman in Mitylene," Antony would say.
Or: "To-night you shall be a little shepherd-boy, with a leopard-skin across your shoulder and mountain berries in your hair."