And the Roman Emperor knelt in veneration before the martyrs to Olympus. In spite of the loss of the temple, in spite of the stupid triumph of the mob, Julian felt in this death the presence of the god. His heart softened; even his hate disappeared, and with humble tears he kissed the old man's hand. The dying man opened his eyes. "Where is the child?" he asked under his breath. "Here, near you." Julian gently placed the hand of Gorgius on the locks of Hepherion. "Is he alive?" asked Gorgius, stroking the child's curls for the last time. He was so weak that he could not turn his head, and Julian had not the courage to reveal the truth. The priest fixed a suppliant look on the Emperor-- "Cæsar! I entrust him to you.... Do not abandon him...." "Be assured; I will do all that I can for the little one." So Julian took under his protection one to whom not even a Roman Cæsar could now do good or harm. Gorgius let his hand remain on the head of Hepherion. Suddenly his face lighted; he tried to say something, and stammered incoherently-- "Rejoice! Rejoice!" He gazed before him with eyes wide open, sighed, paused in the midst of the sigh, and his look faded. Julian closed the eyes of the dead. Suddenly exultant songs were heard. The Emperor wheeled round, and saw a long procession marching down the cypress-alley. A great crowd of priests, in dalmatics of cloth of gold covered with precious gems, deacons swinging censers, black monks bearing lighted tapers, virgins and youths clothed in white, children waving palm-branches, and above the crowd on a lofty car the relics of Babylas, in a glittering silver shrine. They were the relics expelled, by Cæsar's orders, from Daphne to Antioch. The expulsion had become a victorious march. The people were singing the ancient Psalm of David glorifying the God of Israel-- "_He is clothed in clouds and darkness!_" Above the moanings of the wind, and the roarings of the fire, soared the triumphant chant of the Galileans to the lurid vault of the sky-- "_Clouds and darkness surround Him, fire tramples out His enemies before Him, and the mountains melt like wax before the face of the Lord, the Lord of all the earth!_" Julian grew pale at the audacity of joy resounding in the last line-- "_Let all those who serve and boast themselves of their idols tremble, And let all gods bow down before Him!_" The Emperor leapt upon his horse, drew his sword, and shouted-- "Soldiers, follow me!" He was about to rush in, disperse the triumphant mob, overset the shrine, and scatter the bones of the saint, but a firm hand seized the bridle of his horse-- "Out of the way!" cried Julian furiously, lifting his sword. Next moment his arm fell. Before him stood the stern, calm face of Sallustius Secundus, who had just arrived from Antioch. "Cæsar, do not strike the unarmed! Be yourself!" Julian put back his sword in the scabbard.