His eyes seemed glittering with madness; and Sallustius, seeing that further objection was useless, said nothing. But when Julian began to walk up and down, the prefect shook his head and deep pity was expressed in the kindly gaze of the old man. "The army must be ready to march," continued Julian. "I desire it, do you hear? I will have no excuses nor delays. Arsaces, the Armenian king, has promised help. There is bread. What more is lacking? I must know that I can at any moment set out against the Persians. On this depends not only my glory, but the safety of the Roman Empire and the victory of the gods against the Galileans!..." The warm wind, blowing into the chamber, agitated the three flames of the lampadary. A shooting-star scored the dark blue night-sky and vanished. Julian saw it, and was strangely thrilled. Outside the door voices were heard. Someone knocked. "Who is there? Come in!" said the Emperor. They were his philosopher friends. Libanius, at their head, seemed more emphatic and sullen than usual. "What is your desire?" asked Julian coldly. Libanius knelt, still retaining his arrogant air-- "Let me depart, Augustus. I can no longer endure life at your Court. My patience is exhausted. Every day there is some new insult to put up with...." and he spoke at length of rewards, the moneys received by him no longer, of ingratitude in view of his services, and the splendid panegyrics with which he had glorified Cæsar. But Julian, unheeding, gazed at the celebrated orator with disgust. Could this really be the same Libanius whose speeches he had admired so much in youth? What baseness! what vanity! Then all the philosophers began speaking at once. Their voices rose, they mutually accused each other of impiety, debauchery, peculation, repeating the most fatuous scandals. The scene was a petty civil war, not of the wise, but between parasites waxed fat through prosperity, ready to fly at each other's throats through pride, anger, and idleness. At last the Emperor uttered a word which brought them back to their senses-- "Masters!" All were silenced like so many frightened magpies. "Masters!" repeated Julian, with bitter irony, "I have heard you long enough. Permit me to relate you a fable: 'An Egyptian king had a set of tame apes, trained to perform a war-dance of Epirus. They were costumed in helmets and masks; their tails were hidden under the Imperial purple, and while they were dancing it was difficult to believe they were not human. This spectacle gave general delight for years. But on one occasion one of the spectators happened to throw on the stage a handful of nuts! And what happened? The warriors tore off their purple and masks, readjusted their tails, dropped on all fours, and began to bite each other.' How do you like my fable, masters?"