"No. I have neither relatives nor friends. Hepherion helps me at the hours for sacrifice."
"Who are his father and mother?"
"I do not know the father and I strongly suspect that no one knows who he is. But his mother was the great sibyl Diotima, who long lived in this temple. She would never speak nor raise her veil before men. She was chaste as a vestal. When she brought this child into the world we were all astonished, and at a loss what to think ... but a learned centenarian, a magian told us...."
Gorgius, with a mysterious air, put his hand before his mouth and muttered in Julian's ear as if he feared the child could catch his words—
"The hierophant told us that he was no son of man, but a god come down by night to the sibyl while she was asleep within the temple! See how beautiful he is!"
"A deaf-mute son of a god?" murmured the Emperor, surprised.
"In times like ours if the son of the god and of the sibyl were not a deaf-mute he would die of grief," answered Gorgius. "See how thin and pale he is already!"
"Who knows," said Julian, with a sad smile, "but that you are right, old man. In our days it is well for a prophet to be a deaf-mute."
Suddenly the child approached Julian and looking at him fixedly, seized his hand and kissed it. A thrill ran through Julian.
"My son," said the old man, gravely, "may the Olympians shield you; you must be a good man. That child never kisses the evil nor the impious, and he flees from the monks as from the plague. I think he sees and understands more than either of us but can utter nothing. I've often surprised him sitting before the statue of Apollo for hours, gazing at him with joy as if he were talking with the god."