"Is it possible?"
Mauricus began to reckon—
"First, pallor, feverish appearance, disordered hair, irregular step, incoherent speeches; second, excessive harshness and nervousness; third, this stupid war against the Persians!... By Pallas, it clearly means madness!"
The friends drew closer, and began to tell each other all sorts of anecdotes. Sallustius, who held aloof, contemplated the group with a bitter smile.
Within the temple Julian found Hepherion, who brightened on seeing him, and several times during the rite gazed into the Emperor's face, as if the two had some secret in common. Shining in the sunlight, the colossal statue of Apollo stood in the midst of the temple, its body ivory and its garments golden, like those of the Zeus by Phidias at Olympia. The god, stooping slightly, was pouring the nectar of his cup to the Earth-Mother, praying her to restore him Daphne.
A slight cloud passed above the temple. Shadows ran over the time-yellowed ivory. It seemed to Julian that the god benignly stooped still lower, to receive the offering of the last adorers—the weak priest, the apostate Emperor, and the deaf-mute son of the sibyl.
"This is my reward," thought Julian. "I wish for no other glory, nor guerdon, O Apollo! I thank thee for the curses of the crowd; and for thy grace, in making me live and die alone, like thyself! There, where the populace prays, there is no god! Thou art here, in this sanctuary profaned. O god, scorned by mankind, now art thou far more beautiful than of old when they adored thee! On the day marked for me by the Fates, let me be joined again to thee, O Radiant One! Let me die in thee, Sun, as the fire of the last offering dies in thy rays!"
So prayed the Emperor, tears streaming down his cheeks, and one by one the drops of the victim's blood fell like tears on the half-consumed embers.