Eunapius.
[Hastening through the press.] We have succeeded marvellously, sire.
Julian.
Who are they, these ruffians?
Eunapius.
Some of them belong to this city; but most, it seems, are peasants fleeing from Cappadocia.
Julian.
I will not see them. Forward, as I commanded!
The Prisoners’ Song.
[Nearer.