"I swear by the eternal joy, locked here, in my heart, I renounce You,
as you have renounced me! I abandon you as you have abandoned me,
impotent Deities! Single-handed against you, phantom Olympians, I am
like unto you, but not your equal, because I am a man and you are only
gods!... Long, long has my heart aspired to this deliverance; and now
I break our alliance, laugh at my superstitious terrors, at your
childish oracles. I was living like a slave, and I might have died a
slave! I understand that I am stronger than the gods, because, vowed
to death, I have conquered death! No melancholy, no fear, no victims,
no prayer! All that is past. Henceforth in my life there shall not be
a single shade, nor trembling. Nothing! except that everlasting
Olympian smile which I have learnt from you, the Dead! Nothing, but
the sacred fire of which I rob you, O Immortals! Mine be the cloudless
sky in which you have dwelt till now, and from which you have died, to
give place to man-gods! Maximus! Maximus! you were right; over my soul
your mind hovers still...."
An augur of ninety years old put his hand on the shoulder of the
Emperor.
"Speak lower, my son, speak lower. If thou hast understood the
mystery, rejoice in silence! Tempt not the crowd. Those who hear thee
cannot understand."
The general murmurs of indignation became louder.
"He's raving," said Hormizdas to Dagalaïf. "Take him to his tent, or
all will go ill!"
Oribazius, like the devoted physician that he was, took Julian's hand
and began to persuade him soothingly.
"Well-beloved Augustus, you must take rest. There are dangerous fevers
in this country. Come into the tent. The sun is hurtful.... Your
illness may get worse!"
The Emperor looked at him with a pre-occupied air.
"Stay, Oribazius, I have forgotten something.... Ah, yes, yes!... It
is the chiefest thing of all! Listen. Say not, 'The gods are no more,'
but rather 'The gods as yet are not.' They are not, but they shall
exist; not in fables, but on earth. We shall all be gods, all; only to
become so we must create in ourselves such daring as no man has yet
felt, not even Alexander!"
The agitation of the army became more pronounced. Murmurs and
exclamations joined into a general hum of indignation. No one clearly
understood; but everyone had a suspicion that something abnormal was
going on.
Some cried:
"Sacrilege! Set up the altar again!"
Others answered:
"The sacrificial priests have poisoned Cæsar because he would not
listen to them! Let us kill them! They are bringing ruin on us!"
The Galileans took advantage of the occasion, and slipped about from
group to group, whispering and inventing pieces of scandal.
"Were you watching the Emperor? It is the chastisement of God on him.
Devils have seized him and troubled his mind. That's why he revolts
against his own gods. He has renounced the One God!"
As if awaking from a deep sleep, the Emperor looked slowly over the
crowd, and at last asked Oribazius, indifferently:
"What is the matter--these shouts? What has happened? Ah, yes!... the
altar upset!"
And contemplating the extinct embers with a sad smile he said:
"Do you know, my learned friends, one cannot offend people more than
by telling them the truth!... Poor simple children!... Well, let them
cry, let them weep, they will get over it! Come, Oribazius, we will go
into the shade. You are right, the sun is dangerous. I am tired, and
my eyes hurt me...."
Julian went slowly away leaning on the arm of the doctor. At the door
of his tent he made a languid sign that all should leave him. The
door-curtain was lowered, and the tent plunged in darkness.
The Emperor went up to the camp-bed, a lion's skin, and sank on it
exhausted. He remained stretched thus a long time, holding his head
tightly in his hands, as in childhood, after some fit of anger or
disappointment.
"Quiet! quiet! Cæsar is ill!" the generals said, to calm the soldiers.
And the men were immediately dumb.
Throughout the Roman camp, as in the chamber of the dying, reigned the
silence of painful expectation. The Galileans alone took time by the
forelock, gliding furtively hither and thither, penetrating
everywhere, hawking about sinister rumours, and, like reptiles waked
by the sun's warmth after their winter's sleep, ceaselessly whispered:
"Do you not understand? This is the punishment of God on him!"