Arsinoë gazed at him in fear and despair, as at one insane—
"Julian!... Julian, what is the matter? Is it possible that a mere name...."
But he had regained cold self-possession. His eyes were lustreless, his air indifferent, almost contemptuous; the Roman Emperor was speaking to a Galilean.
"Depart, Arsinoë. Forget all that I have said. It was a moment of weakness which is over. I am tranquil. You see, we must remain strangers. The shadow of the Crucified is always between us. You have not renounced Him, and he who is not His enemy cannot be my friend...."
She fell on her knees before him—
"Why? why? What are you doing? Have pity on me; have pity on yourself, before it is too late! For this is madness. Return, or you must...."
She paused, and he completed the sentence for her with a haughty smile—
"Or I must perish, you mean, Arsinoë? Be it so. I shall follow my road to the end, lead where it may! If, as you say, I have been unjust toward the wisdom of the Galileans, remember what I have borne at their hands. How numberless, how despicable were my enemies!... The other day some Roman soldiers found before my eyes, in a Mesopotamian marsh, a lion tortured by flies. They had buried themselves in his throat, in his ears, in his nostrils, choking his breath, sealing his eyes, and in their stinging myriads had mastered even his powers at last! Such shall my death be, and such the victory of the Galileans over Cæsar!"
The girl still held out towards him her pale hands; but without a word, without a hope, like a friend towards a friend who is dead. Between the two lay still that abyss which is not to be crossed by the living.