You may well ask where Artemius was. I will tell you. Artemius has gone over to the Galileans. Artemius himself has broken by force of arms into the Serapeion, that most glorious of earthly temples,—has shattered the statues—has plundered the altars, and destroyed that vast treasury of books, which was of such inestimable value precisely in this age of error and ignorance. I could weep for them as for a friend bereft me by death, were not my wrath too great for tears.
Kytron.
Truly, this surpasses belief!
Julian.
And not to be within reach of these miserable beings to punish them! To be doomed to look idly on while such atrocities spread wider and wider around!—Thirty days, you say! Why are we loitering? Why are we pitching our tents? Why should we sleep? Do my generals not know what is at stake? We must hold a council of war. When I remember what the Macedonian Alexander achieved in thirty days——
Jovian, accompanied by a man in Persian garb, unarmed, enters from the camp.
Jovian.
Forgive me, sire, for appearing before you: but this stranger——
Julian.
A Persian warrior!