But the most wonderful thing was, that, as soon as Antaeus was fairly off the earth, he began to lose the vigor which he had gained by touching it.
If Hercules heard their shrieks, however, he took no notice, and perhaps fancied them only the shrill, plaintive twittering of small birds that had been frightened from their nests by the uproar of the battle between himself and Antaeus.
Yonder lies Antaeus, our great friend and brother, slain, within our territory, by a miscreant who took him at disadvantage, and fought him (if fighting it can be called) in a way that neither man, nor Giant, nor Pygmy ever dreamed of fighting, until this hour.
It only remains for us, then, to decide whether we shall carry on the war in our national capacity--one united people against a common enemy--or whether some champion, famous in former fights, shall be selected to defy the slayer of our brother Antaeus to single combat.
For, as these sage counselors remarked, the stranger's club was really very big, and had rattled like a thunderbolt against the skull of Antaeus.
You have killed the Giant Antaeus, our great brother, and the ally of our nation.
You have slain the enormous Antaeus, our brother by the mother's side, and for ages the faithful ally of our illustrious nation.
In those histories, perhaps, it stands recorded, that, a great many centuries ago, the valiant Pygmies avenged the death of the Giant Antaeus by scaring away the mighty Hercules.
And, with rare exceptions, Hell's darkest hues are compounded out of individually bright washes of red, yellow, and, above all, blue --from the tourbillion of the lustful souls in Canto V, to the sprung body of the giant Antaeus
setting Dante down in the circle of the traitors.