I could not kill that man. I granted him his life, and promised to send him as a prisoner to Rome.
Helena.
Without torturing him?
Julian.
Prudence bade me deal mercifully with him. But then—I cannot tell how it happened—with a cry of overflowing gladness, the barbarian sprang up, stretched his pinioned hands into the air, and, half ignorant as he is of our language, shouted with a loud voice: “Praise be to thee, Julian, thou mighty Emperor!”
Helena.
Ah!
Julian.
My attendants were inclined to laugh; but the barbarian’s shout flew like a lightning-flash through the surrounding soldiery, kindling as it went. “Long live the Emperor Julian,” those who stood nearest repeated; and the cry spread around in wider and ever wider circles to the furthest distance. ’Twas as though some Titan had hurled a mighty rock far out into the ocean;—oh, my beloved, forgive me the heathen similitude, but——
Helena.