What a spirit has he not darkened, that it should rage against us! What a blossoming tree has he not stripped to make rods for our sin-laden shoulders!
Portents warned you, and you heeded them not. Voices called you, and you heard them not. Hands wrote in letters of fire upon the wall, and you rubbed out the writing ere you had deciphered it.
Julian.
Basil—I would I had known this woman before to-day.
Basil.
Come, Makrina!
Makrina.
Woe is me that ever I saw those shining eyes! Angel and serpent in one; the apostate's longing wedded to the tempter's guile! Oh, how have our brethren and sisters borne their hope of victory so high, in the face of such an instrument of wrath? In him dwells a greater than he. Do you not see it, Basil—in him will the Lord God smite us even to death.
Julian.
You have said it!
Makrina.
Not I!
Julian.
First-won soul!
Makrina.
Avaunt from me!
