The words thrilled Julian, who looked strangely at the Persian.
"Burn them? What sayest thou?"
Artaban raised his head and looked steadfastly into the Emperor's eyes.
"Hast thou fear? Thou!... No, no. Men alone are fearful, but not the gods! Burn the ships, and thou shalt be free as the wind. Thy ships shall not fall into the power of the enemy and thine army be swelled by the soldiers that work the fleet. Be great and bold to the very end! Burn them, and in ten days thou shalt be under the walls of Ecbatana. In twenty days all Persia shall be thine! Thou shall be greater than the son of Philip, who conquered Darius. Only ... burn thy ships and follow me!..."
"And if these are but lies—if I can read in your heart that you are lying!" exclaimed the Emperor seizing the Persian with one hand by the throat and with the other menacing him with a dagger.
Hormizdas uttered a sigh of relief.
For some instants Artaban sustained the gaze of the Roman without speaking, and Julian again felt the fascination of those eyes, so intelligent, audacious, and servile.
"If thou dost not believe me, let me die by thy hand," repeated the Persian.
Julian relaxed his hold, and returned the poignard to its sheath.
"It is terrible and pleasant to look thee in the eyes," continued Artaban. "Thy visage is that of a god! That, as yet no one knows; I alone know that thou art.... Do not repulse thy slave, sire."