Julian.
Can you blame me for having hidden it from you? Did not both duty and shame constrain me? Ah, what is <g>this</g>? What a change!
Helena.
What? What?
Julian.
How these months have changed you! Helena, you have been ill?
Helena.
No, no; but tell me
Julian.
Yes, you have been ill! You must be ill now;—your fever-flushed temples, the blue rings round your eyes
Helena.
Oh, 'tis nothing, my beloved! Do not look at me, Julian! 'Tis only anxiety and wakeful nights on your account; ardent prayers to the Blessed One on the cross
Julian.
Spare yourself, my treasure; it is more than doubtful whether such zeal is of any avail.
Helena.
Fie; you speak impiously.—But tell me of your own affairs, Julian! I implore you, hide nothing from me.
Julian.
Nothing <g>can</g> now be hidden. Since the Empress's death, I have taken no single step here in
