The calm alleys, abandoned by all for so many years, were swarming. Rioters profaned the wood, broke down branches of ancient laurels, befouled the springs, and trampled on the sleeping flowers. The cool odour of narcissus and lily strove with the stifling heat of the fire and the breath of the people.
"A miracle from God," murmured the crowd gleefully. "I myself saw lightning fall from heaven and kindle the roof!"
"No, thou liest! The earth split in the midst of the temple and vomited flames underneath the idol!"
"'S death!... It was after the abominable order to shift the relics. They thought they could do it without let or hindrance.... Pooh!... So much for your Temple of Apollo and prophecy from the sacred spring! It is a blessing!"
Julian saw in the crowd a woman half-dressed, as if newly risen from bed. With a stupid smile she was wondering at the fire, while cradling on her arm an infant at the breast. Tears still trembled on the eyelashes of the little one; but he quieted himself sucking vigorously at the breast, against which he had propped himself with one hand, while stretching the other towards the flames as if for a new plaything.
The Emperor reined up his horse. Further advance was impossible, by reason of the heat. The legionaries stood awaiting orders. But Julian saw that the temple was doomed. From base to roof it was enveloped in flames, like an immense brazier. Walls, joists, and carven cross-beams were falling in, with crash after crash, and whirlwinds of sparks mounted to a sky which came down lower and lower, lurid and menacing. The flames seemed to lick the clouds, struggling against the embraces of the wind and, roaring, flapped like great sails. The laurel leaves writhed in the heat, and doubled themselves as in torture. The peaks of the cypresses, kindled like huge torches, gave up the smoke of sacrifice. Drops of resin fell thickly from the centenarian trees, old as the temple.
Julian gazed haggardly at the fire. He wished to give an order to the legionaries; but drawing his sword from the scabbard and curbing his restive horse, he could only ejaculate impotently between clenched teeth—"Oh, wretched, wretched people!"
Shouts of the crowd sounded in the distance. Julian recollected that the entrance to the treasury was at the back; and the idea occurred to him that the Galileans were pillaging the wealth of the god.... He made a sign, and dashed in that direction, followed by the legionaries. A melancholy procession brought him to a halt. A few Roman guards, who had run up in haste from the village of Daphne, were carrying a rude litter.
"What is it?" asked Julian.