rough the multitude, towards the temple.

A Voice.
[Calling out in the throng.] Stay, ungodly one!
Julian.
A Galilean among us?
The Same Voice.
No further, blasphemer!
Julian.
Who is he that speaks?
Other Voices in the Crowd.
A Galilean priest. A blind old man. Here he stands.
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Others again.
Away, away, with the shameless wretch!
[A blind Old Man, in priestly garments, and supported by two younger
men, also dressed as priests, is pushed forward till he stands at the foot of
the temple steps, facing the Emperor.
Julian.
Ah, what do I see? Tell me, old man, are not you Bishop Maris, of
Chalcedon?
The Old Man.
Yes, I am that unworthiest servant of the Church.
Julian.
“Unworthiest,” you call yourself; and I think you are not far wrong. If I
mistake not, you have been one of the foremost in stirring up internal strife
among the Galileans.
Bishop Maris.
I have done that which weighs me still deeper down in penitence. When
you seized the empire, and rumour told of your bent of mind, my heart was
beleagured with unspeakable dread. Blind and enfeebled by age, I could
not conceive the thought of setting myself up against the mighty monarch
of the world. Yes,—God have mercy on me—I forsook the flock I was
appointed to guard, shrank timidly from all the perils that gathered
frowning around the Lord’s people, and sought shelter here, in my Syrian
villa——
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Julian.
In truth a strange story! And you, timid as you say you are, you, who
formerly prized the Emperor’s favour so highly, now step forth before me
and fling insults in my very face!
Bishop Maris.
Now I fear you no longer; for now has Christ fully possessed my heart. In
the Church’s hour of need, her light and glory burst upon me. All the blood
you shed,—all the violence and wrong you do—cry out to heaven, and, re-
echoing mightily, ring in my deaf ears, and show me, in my night of
blindness, the way I have to go.
Julian.
Get you home, old man!
Bishop Maris.
Not till you have sworn to renounce your devilish courses. What would
you do? Would dust rise up against the spirit? Would the lord of earth cast
down the Lord of heaven? See you not that the day of wrath is upon us by
reason of your sins? The fountains are parched like eyes that have wept
themselves dry. The clouds, which ought to pour the manna of fruitfulness
upon us, sweep over our heads, and shed no moisture. This earth, which
has been cursed since the morning of time, quakes and trembles under the
Emperor’s blood-guiltiness.
Julian.
What favour do you expect of your God for such excess of zeal, foolish
old man? Do you hope that, as of old, your Galilean master will work a
miracle, and give you back your sight?
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Bishop Maris.
I have all the sight I desire; and I thank the Lord that he quenched my
bodily vision, so that I am spared from seeing the man who walks in a
darkness more terrible than mine.
Julian.
Let me pass!
Bishop Maris.
Whither?
Julian.
Into the Sun-King’s house.
Bishop Maris.
You shall not pass. I forbid you in the name of the only Go