He had a spasm of weakness, and covered his eyes with his hand; the courier, more dead than alive, slunk to the door.
"To-morrow," stammered Constantius wildly; "to-morrow we absolutely must set out!... by forced marches, direct ... as the crow flies ... over the mountains.... We absolutely must go to Constantinople."
Eusebius approached him, with the humblest of bows--
"Divine Augustus! The Lord God has granted you, you His chosen, victory over your enemies. You have annihilated Magnentius, Constantius, Vetranio, Gallus. You will crush this impious----"
But Constantius, wagging his head without listening, muttered--
"Then He exists not; if it is all true, and I am single-handed, alone! Who dares to say that 'He' exists, when such crimes can be accomplished! I've been thinking so a long time...."
He cast a dull look on the courtiers present and said--
A physician came up--a courtier-like person, with a clean-shaven rosy face, an Armenian who assumed the airs of a Roman patrician. He observed respectfully that too keen emotion might be harmful to the Emperor, that he should rest.... Constantius waved him away like an irritating fly.
The second courier was shown in. He was Cintula, the tribune of the Imperial stables, who had escaped from Lutetia. He brought the terrible news that the inhabitants of Sirmium[7] had opened their doors to Julian, and welcomed him as the saviour of the country. In two days he would debouch on the great Roman road leading to Constantinople.
[7] On the Save, at no great distance from Belgrade.
The Emperor either did not hear, or did not understand, the last words of the messenger. His face became strangely rigid. He made a gesture of dismissal to all present. Eusebius alone remained to talk the business over with him. In another quarter of an hour Constantius ordered that he should be assisted to his chamber, and made several steps. Then a cry escaped him; he pressed his hands to his head, as if he suddenly felt terrible pain. Courtiers ran to support him. The Emperor did not lose consciousness. By his face and movements, and the veins, standing out like whipcord on his forehead, it was evident that he was making fearful efforts to speak.
Finally he stammered slowly, word by word, as if being throttled by an iron collar--