"Ah! our mysteries are deeper and finer than you suppose. Men have absolute need of enthusiasm. For him who has faith the harlot is Aphrodite really, and the luminous scales are the stars of heaven. You say that people weep and pray before semblances produced by a lamp and coloured glasses? Oribazius, Oribazius!... but this Nature which makes your science marvel, is she not herself a mirage, produced by senses as deceptive as the wizard's lantern? Wherein does truth consist? Where does falsehood begin? You believe and you know, and I neither wish to believe nor am skilled to know. Truth dwells for me in the same shrine as falsehood."
"Would Julian thank you, if he knew that you were deceiving him?"
"He saw what he desired to see. I have given him enthusiasm, strength, and audacity. You say that I have deceived him. If that had been necessary I would have done so—I would have tempted him. I love the falsehood that contains a truth. I love temptation. Till I die I will never abandon Julian and shall allow him to taste all forbidden fruits. He is young; I shall live on a second life in him. I will unveil for him the mystery and charm even of crime; and perhaps through me he shall become great!"
"Master, I do not understand you."
"And that is precisely why I speak thus to you," responded Maximus, fixing on Oribazius his penetrating and impassive eyes.
XI
Julian had an interview with his brother Gallus while the latter was on his way to Constantinople. He had found him surrounded by a troop of traitors in the pay of Constantius: the quæstor Leontinus, a wily courtier, famous for skill in eavesdropping and cross-examining servants; the tribune Baïnobadois, a taciturn barbarian, who gave the impression of an over-tragic actor playing the part of a headsman; the Emperor's haughty Master of Ceremonies, comes domesticorum, Lucilian; and finally Marcus Scuda, the former tribune of Cæsarea in Cappadocia, who, thanks to the protection of certain old ladies, had attained the post he longed for.
Gallus, now, as always, gay and giddy, had offered Julian an excellent supper, of which the chief feature was a plump pheasant stuffed with fresh Theban dates. He laughed like a child, and was calling up all sorts of reminiscences of old days together at Macellum, when suddenly Julian spoke to him about his wife Constantia.
The face of Gallus fell; his eyes filled with tears, and he laid down on his plate the succulent piece of pheasant which he had been on the point of putting into his mouth.