The Emperor Julian enters hastily from the left. He still wears the panther-skin and the vine-leaves; in his hand is the green-wreathed staff. He paces the room once or twice, then flings the staff into a corner.
Julian.
Was there beauty in this?
Where were the white-bearded elders? Where the pure maidens, with the fillets on their brows, modest, and of seemly bearing, even in the rapture of the dance?
Out upon you, harlots!
[He tears off the panther-skin, and casts it aside.
Whither has beauty fled? When the Emperor
bids her come forth again, will she not obey?
Out upon this stinking ribaldry!
What faces! All the vices crying aloud in their distorted features. Ulcers on soul and body
Faugh, faugh! A bath, Agilo! The stench chokes me.
The Bath-Servant Agilo.
[In the doorway to the right.] The bath is prepared, gracious sire! Julian. The bath? Nay, let that be. What is the filth of the body compared with all the rest? Go! [Agilo goes out again. The Emperor stands some time in thought.
The seer of Nazareth sat at meat among publicans
and sinners.—
Where lies the gulf between that and this?
[Hekebolius enters from the left, and stops
apprehensively at the door.
