Ursulus.
Pardon me, sire; this man is the imperial barber.
Julian.
What do I hear? Can it be? This man—oh, you jest—this man, in silken raiment, with gold-embroidered shoes, is——? Ah, indeed! So you are the barber! [He bows before him] Never shall I presume to let myself be served by such delicate hands.
Eunapius.
Most gracious Emperor,—I pray you, for God and my Saviour’s sake——
Julian.
Ho-ho! A Galilean! Did I not think so! Is this the self-denial you boast of? But I know you well! What temple of what godhead have you plundered, or how many dips have you made into the Emperor’s coffers, to attain such magnificence as this?—You may go; I have no occasion for you.
[Eunapius goes out to the right.
Tell me, Ursulus, what is that man’s wage?