"First, pallor, feverish appearance, disordered hair, irregular step,
incoherent speeches; second, excessive harshness and nervousness;
third, this stupid war against the Persians!... By Pallas, it clearly
means madness!"
The friends drew closer, and began to tell each other all sorts of
anecdotes. Sallustius, who held aloof, contemplated the group with a
bitter smile.
Within the temple Julian found Hepherion, who brightened on seeing
him, and several times during the rite gazed into the Emperor's face,
as if the two had some secret in common. Shining in the sunlight, the
colossal statue of Apollo stood in the midst of the temple, its body
ivory and its garments golden, like those of the Zeus by Phidias at
Olympia. The god, stooping slightly, was pouring the nectar of his cup
to the Earth-Mother, praying her to restore him Daphne.
A slight cloud passed above the temple. Shadows ran over the
time-yellowed ivory. It seemed to Julian that the god benignly stooped
still lower, to receive the offering of the last adorers--the weak
priest, the apostate Emperor, and the deaf-mute son of the sibyl.
"This is my reward," thought Julian. "I wish for no other glory, nor
guerdon, O Apollo! I thank thee for the curses of the crowd; and for
thy grace, in making me live and die alone, like thyself! There, where
the populace prays, there is no god! Thou art here, in this sanctuary
profaned. O god, scorned by mankind, now art thou far more beautiful
than of old when they adored thee! On the day marked for me by the
Fates, let me be joined again to thee, O Radiant One! Let me die in
thee, Sun, as the fire of the last offering dies in thy rays!"
So prayed the Emperor, tears streaming down his cheeks, and one by one
the drops of the victim's blood fell like tears on the half-consumed
embers.