"We're injured unjustly," groaned the two old people.
"Well, suffer the injustice!" answered Julian. "You should rejoice in persecution. What are these sufferings to eternal bliss?"
The old man, unprepared for this deduction, stammered in dismay, as a forlorn hope--
"We are your faithful slaves, Augustus. My son serves on the military staff, in a distant fortress of the Roman frontier, and his superior officers think well of him...."
"Is he also a Christian?" interrupted Julian.
"Yes," sighed the old man, and was immediately dismayed at the avowal.
"You have done well to warn me. As proved enemies of the Roman Augustus, Christians must not henceforth occupy high Imperial office, above all in the army. I am more of your Master's opinion than you are yourselves. How should disciples of Jesus do justice according to the Roman law, when He has said, '_Judge not, and ye shall not be judged_'? How should Christians rightly defend the Empire by the sword, when they were taught by Him '_He who shall take up the sword shall perish by the sword_'; and again, '_Resist not evil_'? Therefore, for the safety of your souls, we shall withdraw Christians from the law and from the army of Rome; that helpless, and disarmed, and free from frivolous earthliness, they may reach the kingdom of heaven!"
Smiling inwardly, and so robbing his hatred of still greater bitterness, the Emperor strode rapidly toward the Temple of Apollo.
The old people stretched their arms after him, sobbing--
"Cæsar, we did it unwittingly! Take our house, our land, all that we have, but have pity on our son!"
The philosophers wished to enter the temple, but the Emperor waved them back--
"I came to the festival alone. I alone will offer the sacrifice!"
"Let us go in," he added, addressing Gorgius.
"Close the doors, and let none of the unconsecrated enter...."
And the doors were shut in the faces of his philosopher friends.
"'Unconsecrated?' How do you like that?" asked Garguillus moodily.
Mauricus, with a mysterious air, dragged his friends into a corner of the portico, and touching his forehead with a finger murmured--
"First, pallor, feverish appearance, disordered hair, irregular step, incoherent speeches; second, excessive harshness and nervousness; third, this stupid war against the Persians!... By Pallas, it clearly means madness!"