Julian.
What would you, man?
Hekebolius.
[Kneeling.] Sire!
Julian.
Ah, what do I see? Hekebolius;—is it indeed you?
Hekebolius.
The same, and yet another.
Julian.
My old teacher. What would you have? Stand up!
Hekebolius.
No, no, let me lie. And take it not ill that I presume on my former right of entrance to your presence.
Julian.
[Coldly.] I asked you what you would have?
Hekebolius.
"My old teacher," you said. Oh that I could cast the veil of oblivion over those times!
Julian.
[As before.] I understand. You mean that
Hekebolius.
Oh that I could sink into the earth, and hide the shame I feel! See, see,—here I lie at your feet, a man whose hair is growing grey—a man who has pored and pondered all his days, and has to confess at last that he has gone astray, and led his beloved pupil into error!
