The Emperor was carried into his tent, and laid on his camp-bed. Still
in a swoon, he groaned from time to time. Oribazius, the physician,
drew out the iron lance-head, and washed and bound up the deep wound.
By a look Victor asked if any hope remained, and Oribazius sadly shook
his head. After the dressing of the wound Julian sighed and opened his
eyes.
"Where am I?" he asked in surprise with a glance round. Then hearing
the distant noise of battle he remembered all, and with an effort rose
upon his bed.
"Why have they brought me here? Where is my horse? Quick, Victor!"
Suddenly his face writhed with pain, friends hastened to support him,
but he thrust back Victor and Oribazius.
"Permit me! I must be with them to the end."
His soul was struggling against death. Slowly, with infinite
difficulty, he tottered to his feet, a faint smile playing on his
lips, and the old fire in his eyes.
"You see, I am able-bodied still ... quick! give me my sword, buckler,
horse!"
Victor gave him the shield and sword. Julian took them and made a few
unsteady steps, like a child learning to walk. The wound re-opened; he
let fall his arms, sank into the arms of Oribazius and Victor and
looking up cried contemptuously--
"All is over! Thou hast conquered, Galilean!"
And making no further resistance, he gave himself up to his friends,
and was laid on the bed.
"Yes, yes," he repeated softly, "I am dying."
Oribazius leaned towards him, consoling him, assuring him that the
wound would heal.
"Why deceive me?" answered Julian; "I am not afraid...." Then he added
gravely, "I hope I shall die the death of the righteous."
In the evening he lost consciousness. Hour after hour went by. The sun
went down. Fighting ceased. A lamp was lighted in the tent, and night
slowly descended.
Julian did not recover consciousness. His breathing grew weaker; he
was thought to be breathing his last. But later his eyes opened,
little by little; his look was fixed steadily on a corner of the tent.
A rapid whisper broke from his lips: he was in delirium.
"Thou, here, why?... what matters it? All is over. Canst Thou not see
that?... Go. Thou hatedst laughter.... And so we can never forgive
Thee...."