Julian.
Speak, my Maximus!
Maximus.
All my labour is vain, I tell you. Why could you not silence the psalm-singing? It strangled all the omens; they would have spoken, but could utter nothing.
Julian.
Silence, darkness;—and I can wait no longer! What do you counsel me to do?
Maximus.
Go forward blindly, Emperor Julian. The light will seek you out.
Julian.
Yes, yes, yes; that I, too, believe. I need not, after all, have sent for you all this long way. Know you what I have just heard?
Maximus.
I will not know what you have heard. Take your fate into your own hands.
Julian.
[Pacing restlessly up and down.] After all, what is he, this Constantius—this Fury-haunted sinner, this mouldering ruin of what was once a man?
Maximus.
Be that his epitaph, Emperor Julian!
Julian.
In his whole treatment of me, has he not been like a rudderless wreck,—now drifting to the left
