All wheeled round, and at full gallop sprang upright, standing on their saddles, their long white vestments streaming, and lances poised above their heads. The Emperor saw the bronzed face of a young robber, one little more than a lad. Riding rapidly towards him on a Bactrian dromedary, from whose shaggy hair lumps of dry mud swung and dangled, Victor parried two lances aimed at the Emperor by Bedouins. Then the lad on the camel aimed, his fierce look glittering and white teeth showing while he cried gleefully-- "_Malek, malek!_" "That boy is happy," was the thought that flashed through Julian's mind, "and I too...." He had no time to finish; the lance hissed, and grazing the skin of his right hand, glanced over the ribs and buried itself below the liver. Julian thought the wound a slight one, and seizing the double-edged barb to withdraw it, cut his fingers. Blood gushed out. Julian uttered a cry, flung his head back, fixed his staring eyes on the pale sky, and slid from his horse into the arms of the guard. Victor supported him with tender veneration, gazing with trembling lips at the closed eyes of his sovereign. The tardy cohorts in the rear came up. XIX The Emperor was carried into his tent, and laid on his camp-bed. Still in a swoon, he groaned from time to time. Oribazius, the physician, drew out the iron lance-head, and washed and bound up the deep wound. By a look Victor asked if any hope remained, and Oribazius sadly shook his head. After the dressing of the wound Julian sighed and opened his eyes. "Where am I?" he asked in surprise with a glance round. Then hearing the distant noise of battle he remembered all, and with an effort rose upon his bed. "Why have they brought me here? Where is my horse? Quick, Victor!" Suddenly his face writhed with pain, friends hastened to support him, but he thrust back Victor and Oribazius. "Permit me! I must be with them to the end." His soul was struggling against death. Slowly, with infinite difficulty, he tottered to his feet, a faint smile playing on his lips, and the old fire in his eyes. "You see, I am able-bodied still ... quick! give me my sword, buckler, horse!" Victor gave him the shield and sword. Julian took them and made a few unsteady steps, like a child learning to walk. The wound re-opened; he let fall his arms, sank into the arms of Oribazius and Victor and looking up cried contemptuously-- "All is over! Thou hast conquered, Galilean!" And making no further resistance, he gave himself up to his friends, and was laid on the bed. "Yes, yes," he repeated softly, "I am dying." Oribazius leaned towards him, consoling him, assuring him that the wound would heal. "Why deceive me?" answered Julian; "I am not afraid...." Then he added gravely, "I hope I shall die the death of the righteous." In the evening he lost consciousness. Hour after hour went by. The sun went down. Fighting ceased. A lamp was lighted in the tent, and night slowly descended.