[The guard drives the lamenting crowd into the side streets. Only the Emperor and his suite remain behind. A man who has hitherto been hidden is now seen lying at the church door; he is in torn garments, and has ashes strewn on his head.
A Soldier.
[Stirring him with a lance-shaft.] Up, up; be off!
The Man.
[Looking up.] Tread under foot this salt without savour, rejected of the Lord!
Julian.
Oh everlasting gods!—Hekebolius——!
The Courtiers.
Ah, so it is,—Hekebolius!
Hekebolius.