Euthemus of Minda, a disciple of Ædesius, and a jealous and malicious fellow, declared to Julian: "There are no more such things as miracles. Don't expect any. Men have badgered the gods too long. Magic is a lie, and those who believe in it are idiots. But if you are still hungry for wisdom, and absolutely must have illusions, go to Maximus. He despises our dialectical philosophy, and yet himself.... But I don't like speaking ill of my friends. Just hear, however, what happened lately in a temple of Hecate whither Maximus had conducted us to prove his art. When we had gone in and adored the goddess, he said to us: 'Sit down, and you shall see a miracle.' We sat down. He threw on the altar a phimian-seed, muttering something,--a hymn I suppose,--and then we saw the statue of Hecate smile at us! Maximus said to us: 'Fear nothing when you shall see the two torches held by the goddess kindle of themselves. Behold!' Before he had finished the sentence the lamps were alight, self-kindled!" "The miracle, in fact, was accomplished!" cried Julian. "Yes; our emotion was so great that we prostrated ourselves. But when I came out of the temple I asked myself, 'Is what Maximus does worthy of true philosophy?' Read Pythagoras, Plato--there shall you find wisdom. By divine dialectic to lift the heart of man--is not that finer than any miracle?" But Julian was listening no more; his eyes sparkled as he gazed at the surly face of Euthemus, and he murmured as he went forth from the school-- "Keep your books and your dialectics! I seek life and faith! Can they exist without miracles? I thank thee, Euthemus, thou hast pointed me to the man I have sought for long." With a bitter smile the sophist answered-- "Nephew of Constantine, you have not improved upon your ancestors. Miracles were not necessary to the faith of Socrates!" X At the stroke of midnight, in the vestibule leading to the great hall of the mysteries, Julian flung off his novice's robe. The sacrificial mystagogues, initiators into the pagan ceremonial, then clothed him anew in their own priestly tunic, woven of threads of papyrus. A palm-branch was put into his hand, and his feet were left bare. He was then led up a long low hall, the vaults of which were supported by a double row of bronze Corinthian columns. Each column, formed of two serpents entwined, bore two incense-burners on lofty and slender branching stands, whence rose thin tongues of flame. Dense vapour filled the hall. At its end glittered two winged golden bulls, propping a splendid throne, on which was seated, arrayed in a long black tunic powdered thick with emeralds and carbuncles, and in demeanour like a god, the greatest hierophant of all, Maximus of Ephesus. The slow reverberant voice of a temple slave announced the opening of the mysteries-- "If any impious, or Christian, or Epicurean be present in this assembly, let him go forth!" Instructed in advance as to the necessary responses, Julian pronounced the words--