fugitives, not
perceiving that he was far in advance of his main body. A few bodyguards
surrounded the Caesar, among them old General Victor. This old man,
though wounded, was unconscious of his hurt, not quitting the emperor's
side, and shielding him time after time from mortal blows. He knew that
it was as dangerous to approach a fleeing enemy as to enter a falling
building.

"Take heed, Caesar!" he shouted. "Put on this mail of mine!" But Julian
heard him not, and still rode on, as if he, unsupported, unarmed, and
terrible, were hunting his countless enemies by glance and gesture only
from the field.

Suddenly a lance, aimed by a flying Saracen who had wheeled round,
hissed, and grazing the skin of the emperor's right hand, glanced over
the ribs, and buried itself in his body. Julian thought the wound a
slight one, and seizing the double-edged barb to withdraw it, cut his
fingers. Blood gushed out, Julian uttered a cry, flung his head back,
and slid from his horse into the arms of the guard.

They carried the emperor into his tent, and laid him on his camp-bed.
Still in a swoon, he groaned from time to time. Oribazius, the
physician, drew out the iron lance-head, and washed and bound up the
deep wound. By a look Victor asked if any hope remained, and Oribazius
sadly shook his head. After the dressing of the wound Julian sighed and
opened his eyes.

Hearing the distant noise of battle, he remembered all, and with an
effort, rose upon his bed. His soul was struggling against death. Slowly
he tottered to his feet.

"I must be with them to the end.... You see, I am able-bodied still....
Quick, give me my sword, buckler, horse!"

Victor gave him the shield and sword. Julian took them, and made a few
unsteady steps, like a child learning to walk. The wound re-opened; he
let fall his sword and shield, sank into the arms of Oribazius and
Victor, and looking up, cried contemptuously, "All is over! Thou hast
conquered, Galilean!" And making no further resistance, he gave himself
up to his friends, and was laid on the bed.

At night he was in delirium.

"One must conquer ... reason must.... Socrates died like a god.... I
will not believe!... What do you want from me?... Thy love is more
terrible than death.... I want sunlight, the golden sun!"

At dawn the sick man lay calm, and the delirium had left him.

"Call the generals--I must speak."

The generals came in, and the curtain of the tent was raised so that the