The Emperor reined up his horse. Further advance was impossible, by reason of the heat. The legionaries stood awaiting orders. But Julian saw that the temple was doomed. From base to roof it was enveloped in flames, like an immense brazier. Walls, joists, and carven cross-beams were falling in, with crash after crash, and whirlwinds of sparks mounted to a sky which came down lower and lower, lurid and menacing. The flames seemed to lick the clouds, struggling against the embraces of the wind and, roaring, flapped like great sails. The laurel leaves writhed in the heat, and doubled themselves as in torture. The peaks of the cypresses, kindled like huge torches, gave up the smoke of sacrifice. Drops of resin fell thickly from the centenarian trees, old as the temple. Julian gazed haggardly at the fire. He wished to give an order to the legionaries; but drawing his sword from the scabbard and curbing his restive horse, he could only ejaculate impotently between clenched teeth--"Oh, wretched, wretched people!" Shouts of the crowd sounded in the distance. Julian recollected that the entrance to the treasury was at the back; and the idea occurred to him that the Galileans were pillaging the wealth of the god.... He made a sign, and dashed in that direction, followed by the legionaries. A melancholy procession brought him to a halt. A few Roman guards, who had run up in haste from the village of Daphne, were carrying a rude litter. "What is it?" asked Julian. "The Galileans have stoned the priest Gorgius to death." "And the treasury?" "It is untouched. Standing on the threshold of the door, the priest defended the entrance. He never left his post until a stone stretched him on the ground. Then they killed the child. The Galilean horde, after trampling them under foot, would have got into the treasury if we hadn't arrived in time." "Is he still alive?" "Hardly breathing." The Emperor leapt from his horse. The litter was laid gently down; and Julian stooping, cautiously lifted a corner of the old chlamys of the priest, which covered both bodies. The old man was stretched with closed eyes and scarcely heaving breast on a bed of fresh laurel-branches. Julian's heart shook with pity when he saw the red-nosed old drinker, whom he had thought so scandalous a few days before. He remembered the poor goose in the wicker basket, the last offering to Apollo. On the snowy hair drops of blood stood like berries, and laurel leaves enlaced lay in a wreath on the priest's head. By his side lay the little body of Hepherion, his cheek resting on his hand. He seemed asleep. Julian thought-- "Such must Eros be, son of the Love-goddess, killed by the stones of Galileans."