Is the sun shining up there?
Sallust.
Yes, my lord.
Julian.
The vault of heaven is like a sea of glittering light. Perhaps it is high noon. It is warm; the air quivers along the walls of the houses; the river, half-shrunken in its bed, ripples over the white flints.—Beautiful life! Beautiful earth!
Sallust.
Oh come, my lord, come! This stay in the catacombs is construed to your hurt.
Julian.
How is it construed?
Sallust.