The Emperor, stained with every crime, is supposed to have died like a
Christian. We hear nothing of fiends leering at him in the shadows of
death. He does not see the forms of his murdered wife and son covered
with the blood he shed. From his white and shriveled lips issued no
shrieks of terror. He does not cover his glazed eyes with thin and
trembling hands to shut out the visions of hell. His chamber is filled
with the rustle of wings waiting to bear his soul to the thrilling
realms of joy. Against the Emperor Constantine the church has hurled no
anathema. She has accepted the story of his vision in the clouds, and
his holy memory has been guarded by priest and pope.