Julian.
Ah, trust, trust——; I am not sure that I can trust in any one.
The Tribune Decentius enters from the back.
Helena.
[Meeting him.] Welcome, noble Decentius! A Roman face,—and, above all, this face,—oh! it sheds genial sunlight over our inclement Gaul.
Decentius.
The Emperor meets your longing and your hope half-way, noble Princess! We may hope that Gaul will not much longer hold you in its chains.
Helena.
Say you so, messenger of gladness? So the Emperor still thinks lovingly of me? How is it with his health?
Julian.