so. But by the same right whereby you rule the visible world, he whom you call the Galilean rules the invisible
Julian.
Enough of that! I will no longer listen to such talk. You speak as though there were two rulers of the world, and on that plea you cry halt to me at every turn. Oh fools! You set up a dead man against a living one. But you shall soon be convinced of your error. Do not suppose that amid the cares of war I have laid aside the treatise I have long been preparing against you. Perhaps you think I spend my nights in sleep? You are mistaken! For "The Beard-Hater" I reaped nothing but scorn,—and that from the very people who had most reason to lay certain truths to heart. But that shall in nowise deter me. Should a man with a cudgel in his hand shrink from a pack of yelping dogs?—Why did you smile, woman? At what did you laugh?
Makrina.
Why, sire, do you rage so furiously against one who, you say, is dead?
Julian.
Ah, I understand! You mean to say that he is alive.
Makrina.
I mean to say, oh mighty Emperor, that in your heart you feel of a surety that he lives.
Julian.
I? What next! Ifeel!
