Decentius.
Knodomar is dead, my lord!
Julian.
[Stopping suddenly.] Knodomar dead! Decentius. Dead, in the foreigners' quarters, on the Coelian hill. Julian. Dead? Indeed!—Ah, the Roman air is unwholesome. Decentius. The King of the Alemanni died of home-sickness, my lord! The longing for kindred and freedom Julian. wastes a man away, Decentius; yes, yes, I know that.—I should not have sent him living to Rome. I should have had him killed here. Decentius. Caesar's heart is merciful. Julian. H'm! Home-sickness? Indeed! To the Master of the Horse, Sintula, who enters by the back.
Are you there, old faun? Tempt me no more.
[To Decentius.] Since the battle at Argentoratum, he is for ever talking to me of the triumphal chariot and the white horses. [To Sintula.] 'Twould be like Phaeton's career with the
