one thing they would sigh to God for at this moment, it is that he would empty their stomachs of their breakfasts.
Gregory.
Julian
Julian.
Look at me; I am sober.
Gregory.
I know that. You are temperate in all things. And yet you share this life of theirs.
Julian.
Why not? Do you know, or do I, when the thunderbolt will fall? Then why not make the most of the bright and sunlit day? Do you forget that I dragged out my childhood and the first years of my youth in gilded slavery? It had become a habit, I might almost say a necessity to me, to live under a weight of dread. And now? This stillness as of the grave on the Emperor's part;—this sinister silence! I left Pergamus without the Emperor's permission; the Emperor said nothing. I went of my own will to Nicomedia; I lived there, and studied with Nikokles and others; the Emperor gave no sign. I came to Athens, and sought out Libanius, whom the Emperor had forbidden me to see;—the Emperor has said nothing to this day. How am I to interpret this?
Gregory.
Interpret it in charity, Julian.
