"Twenty! No; a hundred!"
A legionary, with torn clothes and terrified appearance, rushed into the crowd, shouting, "Comrades, quick to the palace! Quick! Julian's just been beheaded!"
These words kindled the long-smouldering flame. Everyone began to shout, "Where is the envoy from the Emperor Constantius?"
"Down with the envoy!"
"Down with the emperor!"
Another mob swept by the barracks, calling out, "Glory to the Emperor Julian! Glory to Augustus Julian!"
Then the cohorts, who had marched out the night before, mutinied, and were soon seen returning. The crowd grew thicker and thicker, like a raging flood.
"To the palace! To the palace!" the cry was raised. "Let us make Julian emperor! Let us crown him with the diadem!"
Foreseeing the revolt, Julian had not left his quarters nor shown himself to the soldiers, but for two days and two nights had waited for a sign.
The indistinct cries of the mutineers came to him, borne faintly upon the wind.