"It wasn't worth losing one's soul for that, eh?" observed with wrath a lady of doubtful reputation.
"Nobody wants your soul, or would give three obols for it!"
"The cursed devils!" yelled a drunkard. "They didn't give us enough wine to get the taste of it!"
In the sacristy of the temple the Emperor washed face and hands, took off the splendid Dionysian dress, and put on again the simple white tunic of the Pythagoreans. The sun was declining, and he waited the fall of dusk to retrace his way to the palace unperceived.
Julian went into the sacred wood of Dionysus, where the silence was broken only by the humming of bees and the tinkle of a brook. A sound of steps made him turn round. It was his old friend, one of Maximus' favourite pupils, the young Alexandrian doctor, Oribazius.
They walked on the narrow path side by side. The sun was shining through large golden leaves of the vine.
"Look!" said Julian smiling. "Here great Pan is still alive!"
Then in a lower tone he added, hanging his head—
"Oribazius!... You saw it?"
"Yes," responded the student. "But perhaps the fault lay with you, Julian.... What did you hope for?"