"Drunk? I don't think so. But I may have tossed off five cups or so, for the sake of the celebrations; and as to that, I drink more through sorrow than merriment. Yes, my son, may the Olympians have you in their keeping!... Who are you? By your dress perhaps a wandering philosopher, or a professor from the schools of Antioch?" The Emperor smiled and nodded his head in acquiescence. He wished to make the priest talk freely. "You have hit it. I am a teacher." "Christian?" "No, Hellenist." "Ah, that's good. There are many others of your way of thinking who hang about this neighbourhood." "You have not yet answered me as to where the people are: whether many victims have been sent from Antioch; whether the choirs are ready." "Victims? Small thanks for victims," said the old man, laughing and stumbling so violently that he nearly tumbled down. "Many's the long year, my brother, since we saw that kind of thing!... Since the time of Constantine...." Gorgius snapped his fingers despairingly and whistled. "It is all over--done for!... Phut!... Men have forgotten the gods. Not only have we no victims, but we don't even get a handful of wheat to cook a cake; not a grain of incense, not a drop of oil for the lamps.... There's nothing for it but to go to bed and die!... Yes, my son! may the Olympians protect you!... The monks have taken everything!... and they fight each other; they're rolling in fat.... Our tale is told.... Ah! bad times these. And you say 'Don't drink!' But it's hard not to drink when one suffers. If I didn't drink a bit I should have hanged myself long ago." "And no one has come from Antioch for this great feast day?" asked Julian. "None but you, my son. I am the priest, you are the people! We will together offer the victim to the god." "You have just told me that you received no victims!" Gorgius rubbed the back of his neck, grinning-- "We received none from others, but there is my own offering. Weve eaten little for three days, Hepherion and I, to save the necessary money. Look!" He raised the lid of the basket. A tethered goose slid out its head, cackling and trying to escape. "Ha, ha, ha! is not that a victim?" asked the old man proudly. "Although it isn't a fat young goose it is nevertheless a sacred bird! Apollo ought to be glad of it just now. The gods consider geese a delicacy." "Have you long dwelt in this temple?" questioned Julian. "For forty years and perhaps longer...." "Is this your son?" asked Julian, pointing to Hepherion, who was staring at him as if he were trying to follow the conversation. "No. I have neither relatives nor friends. Hepherion helps me at the hours for sacrifice." "Who are his father and mother?"