Many Voices.
This will bring disaster on us all!
Julian.
[Who has recoiled.] Hold the madman, lest he lay hands on us! [The soldiers surround Cyrillus and drag him to the water basin; at the same moment the voices of singing women are heard to the right.
Julian.
Look there, Fromentinus—what strange company is that?
Fromentinus.
My gracious Emperor, 'tis the psalm-singers
Julian.
Ah, that band of raving women
Fromentinus.
The governor Alexander has taken from them some writings which they hold sacred. They are going out of the city to weep at the graves of the Christians.
Julian.
[With clenched hands.] Defiance; defiance—from men and women alike! [Old Publia, and many other women, come along the road.
Publia.
[Sings.
Their gods are of marble, and silver and gold.
They shall crumble to mould.
