"Kill the priests!" yelled some. "The Etruscans have poisoned Cæsar, and sent him mad!"
"Glory to Augustus Julian, the conqueror!" shouted the faithful Gauls and Celts. "Silence, traitors! so long as Cæsar breathes we have nothing to fear!"
The cowardly were weeping—
"Our country! Our country! We won't go a step farther. We would sooner die. Ah, we shall sooner see our own ears, than see our own land again! We are lost, comrades! The Persians have us in a trap!"
"Do you see clearly now?" said the exultant Galileans. "He is possessed of demons. Julian has sold his soul, and they're dragging him to the abyss. Are we going to let a demoniac lead us?"
And nevertheless Julian, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, murmured as in a dream—
"What matters it? The miracle will be accomplished!"
VII
It was the sixteenth of June, and the first bivouac on the night of the retreat. The army had refused to go farther. Neither prayers, commands, nor threats of the Emperor had brought them to reason. Celts, Romans, Pagans, Christians, brave men and cowards, all had answered in the same words—