"Be silent, enemies of God! Anathema! the council of Nicæa! the
assizes of Sardis! the canons of Paphlagonia!"
Blind Ozius remained seated motionless, forgotten by all, in his
episcopal chair, murmuring inaudibly--
"Jesus Christ, Son of God, have pity upon us! What is the matter, my
brethren, what is it?"
In vain he stretched feeble hands towards his terrified friends.
Nobody saw him, nobody heard him; and tears streamed down his aged
cheeks.
Meanwhile Julian watched all, a contemptuous smile upon his lips, full
of inward triumph.
On the same day, late in the evening, in a quiet and solitary defile
two Mesopotamian monks were journeying afoot together. They had been
sent by Syrian bishops to the council, had escaped the palatine guards
with great difficulty, and now, their minds at peace, were proceeding
towards Ravenna to embark as quickly as possible upon the ship which
was to restore them to the desert. Fatigue and sadness were on their
faces. Ephraim, one of the two, was extremely old; the other, Pimenus,
a lad.