"Stay, Oribazius, I have forgotten something.... Ah, yes, yes!... It is the chiefest thing of all! Listen. Say not, 'The gods are no more,' but rather 'The gods as yet are not.' They are not, but they shall exist; not in fables, but on earth. We shall all be gods, all; only to become so we must create in ourselves such daring as no man has yet felt, not even Alexander!" The agitation of the army became more pronounced. Murmurs and exclamations joined into a general hum of indignation. No one clearly understood; but everyone had a suspicion that something abnormal was going on. Some cried: "Sacrilege! Set up the altar again!" Others answered: "The sacrificial priests have poisoned Cæsar because he would not listen to them! Let us kill them! They are bringing ruin on us!" The Galileans took advantage of the occasion, and slipped about from group to group, whispering and inventing pieces of scandal. "Were you watching the Emperor? It is the chastisement of God on him. Devils have seized him and troubled his mind. That's why he revolts against his own gods. He has renounced the One God!" As if awaking from a deep sleep, the Emperor looked slowly over the crowd, and at last asked Oribazius, indifferently: "What is the matter--these shouts? What has happened? Ah, yes!... the altar upset!" And contemplating the extinct embers with a sad smile he said: "Do you know, my learned friends, one cannot offend people more than by telling them the truth!... Poor simple children!... Well, let them cry, let them weep, they will get over it! Come, Oribazius, we will go into the shade. You are right, the sun is dangerous. I am tired, and my eyes hurt me...." Julian went slowly away leaning on the arm of the doctor. At the door of his tent he made a languid sign that all should leave him. The door-curtain was lowered, and the tent plunged in darkness. The Emperor went up to the camp-bed, a lion's skin, and sank on it exhausted. He remained stretched thus a long time, holding his head tightly in his hands, as in childhood, after some fit of anger or disappointment. "Quiet! quiet! Cæsar is ill!" the generals said, to calm the soldiers. And the men were immediately dumb. Throughout the Roman camp, as in the chamber of the dying, reigned the silence of painful expectation. The Galileans alone took time by the forelock, gliding furtively hither and thither, penetrating everywhere, hawking about sinister rumours, and, like reptiles waked by the sun's warmth after their winter's sleep, ceaselessly whispered: "Do you not understand? This is the punishment of God on him!" XVI