Agathon.
You shall hear, Julian; for now I can no longer doubt that it is you it concerns. What sent me to Constantinople was a vision——
Julian.
A vision, you say!
Agathon.
A heavenly revelation——
Julian.
Oh, for God’s pity’s sake, speak!—Hush, do not speak. Wait—some one is coming. Stand here, quite carelessly;—look unconcerned.
Both remain standing beside the balustrade. A tall, handsome, middle-aged man, dressed, according to the fashion of the philosophers, in a short cloak, enters by the avenue on the left. A troop of youths accompanies him, all in girt-up garments, with wreaths of ivy in their hair, and carrying books, papers and parchments. Laughter and loud talk among them as they approach.
The Philosopher.