"But after all do you think I shall be quite pure?" objected Gnyphon. "Perhaps the sin has so soaked into me that nothing can...." "I'll solemnly swear to it," insisted the draper's wife. "Try it and you'll feel the miracle at once!... Your soul will shine like the sun--as pure as a white dove...." II At Constantinople Julian organised Bacchic processions. Seated in a chariot drawn by white mules, he held in his right hand a golden thyrsus, surmounted by cedar-fruit, and in the other a cup garlanded with ivy. The rays of the sun flooded the crystal wine-cup with vermilion. On each side of the chariot paced tame leopards, sent from the island of Serendib. In front, Bacchantes sang to the beat of timbrels, waving bright torches; and through the clouds of smoke lads, wearing the horns of Fauns, spilt wine into goblets. As they pushed laughing along, the red wine often splashed the bare shoulder of some Bacchante, and dashed the sunshine with rosy spray. An obese old man, a certain rascally money-lender--who, by the way, was head of the Imperial Treasury,--mounted on an ass, played the part of Silenus to perfection. The Bacchantes danced along, waving their hands towards the Emperor-- O Bacchus, ever girt with gleaming cloud! Thousands of voices intoned the chant from the _Antigone_ of Sophocles-- But now be glad of Victory! She meets our gladness with an answering smile; And Thebes, the many-charioted, hears far-resounding praise. Now then have done with wars,--forget your strifes! Visit all temples of the gods with night-long dance and song; And thou, O Theban Bacchus, lead our mirth! Lead thou, and shake the earth! Suddenly Julian heard a burst of laughter, the shrill scream of a woman, and the quavering voice of an old man-- "Ah, my pretty chicken!" It was the Bacchic priest, a good-humoured septuagenarian, who had pinched the bare elbow of a comely Bacchante. Julian's face darkened, and he summoned the old dotard, who ran up, still dancing-- "My friend," whispered Julian in his ear, "observe the dignity which befits your age and rank!" "I am a simple and unlearned man. And I may venture to tell your Majesty that while philosophy is beyond me, I venerate the gods. Ask anyone you please on that head--I have always been faithful to them. Only ... when I see a pretty girl ... my blood gets up! I am an old satyr...." Seeing the displeased face of the Emperor he stopped, assumed a more solemn air, and relapsed into still denser stupidity. "Who is that young girl?" asked Julian. "She who is carrying the sacred vessels on her head?" "Yes." "A courtesan of Chalcedon...." "What!... You have authorised a courtesan to touch the holy vessels of the gods with her foul hands!" "But, divine Augustus, you yourself ordained this procession. Who was there to choose from? All the noble women are Galileans. And then ... none of them would have consented to have exhibited themselves half-naked...."