"No. Flashes of light, allusions, hints, as always, elsewhere."
"Speak on! Tell me all," implored the Emperor, his eyes brilliant with
hope and gratitude.
"How can I?" she answered slowly. "For, my friend, I was seeking the
freedom of the soul; but it has no existence here!"
"Yes, yes! is not that true?" cried Julian, exultant. "That was what I
told you, Arsinoë."
She seated herself on a stool covered with a leopardskin, and
continued her tale calmly, with the same sad smile, Julian listening
in an avidity of joy....
* * * * *
"Tell me, how did you leave those unhappy desert-folk?" demanded
Julian.
"I was tempted once," replied Arsinoë; "once in the desert among the
rocks I found a fragment of white marble. I picked it up and long
wondered at it, sparkling in the sun, and suddenly I remembered
Athens, my youth, my art, and you! I awoke, and I decided to return to
the world, to live and die as God had created me; as an artist. At
that moment the old Didimus had a vision in which I was the means of
reconciling you with the Galilean...."
"With the Galilean!" ejaculated the Emperor.
His face darkened, his eyes lost their fire, the triumphant laugh died
on his lips.
"Curiosity, too, drew me again towards you," continued Arsinoë. "I
wished to know if you had attained truth in the way you pursued, and
what summit you had reached. I resumed the habit of a monk. Brother
Juventinus and I descended the Nile as far as Alexandria; then a ship
took us to Antioch; and we have journeyed with a great Syrian caravan
through Apamea, Epiphania, and Edessa to the frontier. After a
thousand dangers, we crossed the Mesopotamian desert, abandoned by the
Persians, and not far from the village of Abuzat, after the victory at
Ctesiphon, we saw your camp. And so I am here!... And you, Julian?"
He sighed, and hung his head without answering. Then scanning her, he
demanded--
"And now you too detest Him, Arsinoë?"
"No; why?" she answered simply. "Why detest Him? Did not the sages of
Hellas come near, in their teaching, to the message of the Galilean?
Those who in the desert martyrise soul and body are far from the
humble Son of Mary. He used to love children, freedom, cheerfulness,
and the fair white lilies of the field. He loved beauty, Julian!... We
have wandered from Him and become entangled and embittered. All call
you the Apostate, ... but it is they who are the apostates...."
The Emperor knelt down before Arsinoë and raised upon her eyes full of
prayer; tears coursed slowly down his lean cheeks.
"It must not be," he murmured. "Do not speak. Why? Why? Let be what
has been!... Do not again become mine enemy!"
"No, no! I must say it all to you," exclaimed Arsinoë. "Listen! I know
that you love Him! It is so, and that is the fatality upon you.
Against whom have you revolted? What kind of enemy are you for Him?
When your lips are cursing the Crucified, your heart is aspiring
after Him. When you are struggling against His name, you are closer to
Him, closer to His spirit, than those who repeat with dead lips,
'Lord, Lord'!... And it is they who are your enemies, and not He. Ah!
why do you torture yourself more than the Galilean monks?"
The Emperor tore himself from the clasp of Arsinoë, and stood up, pale
as one dead. His face again grew restless, and in his eyes shone the
old hatred. He muttered with sorrowful irony--
"Away with you! Go from me! I know the devices of the Galileans!"