The barber, who had received a talent of gold from the Court bishops Ursatius and Valentine to prepare the Emperor for the new profession of faith, was murmuring insinuatingly in the ear of Constantius and wielding his razor with the most persuasive delicacy, when at this moment the chief of the _silentiarii_, Paul, surnamed Catena, approached the Emperor. He was so called because his infamous system of reports enwound any chosen victim in chains well-nigh indissoluble. His effeminate face was beardless and handsome, and judged by externals he seemed the angel of humility. His dark eyes were full of languor; his walk, a noiselessly graceful feline motion. He wore crosswise over the shoulder a wide dark blue ribbon--sign of special Imperial favour. Paul Catena with a subtle and authoritative gesture waved the barber away, and whispered in the ear of Constantius-- "A letter from Julian! Intercepted to-night. Deign to read it." Constantius greedily snatched the letter from the hands of Paul, opened it, and read. Disappointed, he muttered-- "Mere trash--trifles; he sends a present of a hundred grapes to a sophist and writes the praises of the fruit and of the number 'a hundred.'" "Ah! a ruse!" said Catena. "Really?" asked Constantius; "what proofs are there?" "None." "Then he's either exceedingly cunning or indeed----" "What does your Eternity mean?" "Or, in fact, he is innocent." "As your Majesty pleases," stammered Paul. "_As I please?_ I desire to be just, simply just. Are you not aware of that? I must have proofs...." "Wait; we shall find them." Another informer came near, a young Persian named Mercurius, court-pantler, little more than a lad. He was feared not less than Paul Catena and had been pleasantly nicknamed "Chief Diviner of Dreams." If the prophetic dream could be twisted into any meaning even remotely unfavourable for the person of the Emperor, Mercurius would make careful notes of it and hasten to make a report. Many a victim had paid with their goods and their prospects for the imprudence of dreaming what they had no business to dream; and, aware of this, prudent courtiers would declare themselves martyrs to insomnia, enviers of the legendary dwellers in Atlantis, who, according to Plato, are lapt in slumber without visions. The Persian signed to a distance two Ethiopian eunuchs who were knotting the laces of the Emperor's green and gilt shoes. He kissed the feet of the sovereign, and as it were basked a moment in his eyes, like a dog who affectionately gazes up for his master's orders. "May your Eternity forgive me," whispered little Mercury, "I could not refrain from running to your presence. Gaudentius has had a bad dream! You appeared to him in a torn chlamys and crowned with blasted ears of corn...." "What does that mean?" "The blasted ears announce famine, and the torn chlamys ... I dare not...." "Sickness?"