"Look how he keeps at it! He really loves his gods!"
"By this right hand," remarked the other, "few people care for father and mother as he cares for his gods!"
"You see," laughed a third, "how he puffs out his cheeks to kindle the fire again!... Blow, blow!... It won't catch!... Your uncle Constantine put that fire out."
The flames jetted up, illumining the Emperor's face.
Dipping the holy water brush into a shallow cup, a silver patine used to cover the chalice, he besprinkled the sacrificial water over the heads of the crowd. Some grimaced, others started, at feeling the cold drops on their faces.
When all the ceremonies were over, Julian remembered that he had prepared a philosophical discourse for the people.
"Men," said he, "the god Dionysus is the beginning of your souls' liberty. Dionysus breaks every chain that binds you; he mocks the strong, sets free the slave...."
But he perceived such a dull stupidity upon every face, such an expression of tedium and weariness, that the words died on his lips. A mortal disgust for humanity arose in his heart. He made a sign to the lance-bearers to come round him.
Grumbling and disappointed, the crowd dispersed.
"I'm going straight to church to get absolution. Do you think I shall be forgiven?" said one of the Fauns, snatching off his own false beard and horns with an angry gesture.