He pronounced these words in a loud and ringing voice, his eyes fixed on a raised gallery, curtained by purple hangings. The Emperor, surrounded by his Hellenist friends, had just appeared there. A murmur of fright and astonishment ran through the assembly. Julian gazed at Eustace, but the old man sustained his gaze. The Emperor's face grew dark.
At that moment the Donatist Purpuris brutally thrust off the bishop and took his place on the tribune.
"Do not listen to him," cried Purpuris; "do not let us separate, in scorn of the will of Augustus! The Cæcilians bear a grudge against him, because he has delivered us."
"No, in all truth, no, my brothers!" protested Eustace.
"Leave us, ye accursed! We are not your brothers! We are the wheat-ears of God--you the straw destined for the burning!..." And waving his hand towards the apostate Emperor Purpuris continued in a solemn tone, as if chanting a nuptial song--
"Behold our saviour! Look on him!... Glory, glory, to the most compassionate and learned Augustus!... Thou shalt trample on the snake and the reptile! Thou shalt conquer the lion, for the angels watch over thee in all thy doings.... Hail!"
The congregation became unsettled. Some declared that the advice of Eustace must be followed. Others asked to be heard, not wishing to lose the opportunity of expounding their doctrines before a general religious council. Faces kindled and voices rose.
"Let a Cæcilian enter one of our churches now" exulted Purpuris, "and we'll place our hands on his head, not to choose him as our shepherd, but to crack his skull!"
Many forgot the purpose of the meeting and engaged in subtle discussions, seeking converts. The Basilidian, Triphon, who hailed from Egypt, surrounded by curious hearers, exhibited a transparent chrysolith amulet, bearing the mysterious word "Abraxa."
"He who shall understand the meaning of the word _Abraxa_," Triphon was saying to the group around him, "shall receive all freedom, shall become an immortal, and, tasting all sins, be sullied by none. _Abraxa_ represents by letters the number of the mountains in heaven, three hundred and sixty-five. Above the three hundred and sixty-five celestial spheres, above the hierarchies of angels and archangels, there is a certain Nothingness, nameless, and more beautiful than any light, a motionless and sterile Nothingness...."