Julian.
What mean you, friend?
Agathon.
The vision that sent me to Constantinople
Julian.
Yes, yes, the vision; I had almost forgotten it. A revelation, you said? Oh, speak, speak!
Agathon.
It was at home in Cappadocia, a month ago or a little more. There went a rumour abroad that the heathens had again begun to hold secret meetings by night in the temple of Cybele
Julian.
How foolhardy! Are they not strictly forbidden
Agathon.
Therefore all we believers arose in wrath. The magistrates ordered the temple to be pulled down, and we broke in pieces the abominable idols. The more zealous among us were impelled by the Spirit of the Lord to go still further. With singing of psalms, and with sacred banners at our head, we marched through the town and fell upon the godless like messengers of wrath; we took from them their treasures; many houses were set on fire, and heathens not a few perished in the flames; still more we slew in the streets as they fled. Oh, it was a marvellous time for the glory of God!
Julian.
And then? The vision, my Agathon!
