Julian.
Fallen? My trusty Anatolus fallen for my sake!—In bliss, you say? Ha——
One friend the less. Ah, my Maximus!—I will not receive the Persian king’s envoys to-day. Their design is merely to waste my time. But I will grant no terms. I will follow up the victory to the utmost. The army shall turn against Ctesiphon again.
Oribases.
Impossible, sire; think of your wounds.
Julian.
My wounds will soon be healed. Will they not, Oribases—do you not promise me——?
Oribases.
Above all things rest, sire!
Julian.