Antony was wont to assert) entered his mind--that no monk more
perfect than he had settled in the desert. But as he lay still by
night, it was revealed to him that there was another monk beyond him
far better than he, to visit whom he must set out. So when the
light broke, the venerable old man, supporting his weak limbs on a
staff, began to will to go, he knew not whither. And now the mid
day, with the sun roasting above, grew fierce; and yet he was not
turned from the journey he had begun, saying, "I trust in my God,
that he will show his servant that which he has promised." And as
he spake, he sees a man half horse, to whom the poets have given the
name of Hippocentaur. Seeing whom, he crosses his forehead with the
salutary impression of the Cross, and, "Here!" he says, "in what
part here does a servant of God dwell?" But he, growling I know not
what barbarous sound, and grinding rather than uttering, the words,
attempted a courteous speech from lips rough with bristles, and,
stretching out his right hand, pointed to the way; then, fleeing
swiftly across the open plains, vanished from the eyes of the
wondering Antony. But whether the devil took this form to terrify
him; or whether the desert, fertile (as is its wont) in monstrous
animals, begets that beast likewise, we hold as uncertain.

So Antony, astonished, and thinking over what he had seen, goes
forward. Soon afterwards, he sees in a stony valley a short
manikin, with crooked nose and brow rough with horns, whose lower
parts ended in goat's feet. Undismayed by this spectacle likewise,
Antony seized, like a good warrior, the shield of faith and
habergeon of hope; the animal, however, was bringing him dates, as
food for his journey, and a pledge of peace. When he saw that,
Antony pushed on, and, asking him who he was, was answered, "I am a
mortal, and one of the inhabitants of the desert, whom the Gentiles,