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Updated: May 12, 2025
Then she understood, and with a hopeless sigh went down the wood again. Already Antony and Silencieux had found the place where the loneliest land meets the loneliest sea. Side by side they were sitting on a moonlit margin of the world, and Antony was singing low to the murmur of the waves: "It is not good," said Silencieux. "I know," answered Antony. "Throw it into the sea."
Yes, the greater the god, the greater the slave; and so it was that, falling plumb down from that skyey exaltation, human again with the weakness that follows divine moments, Antony returned from the morning star to Silencieux. Her face was bathed in the delicate early sunlight and looked very pure and gentle, and he kissed her. Surely those terrible words had been an illusion of the dark hours.
Antony, you are one of my lovers, one of my dearest lovers; be great enough, be all mine, and perhaps I will die with you, Antony and leave the world in darkness for your sake, another hundred years." "Tell me of your lovers, Silencieux." "Nearly three thousand years ago I loved a woman of Mitylene, very fair and made of fire.
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