Basil.
And countless multitudes of our Christian brethren among them! Woe to the Emperor Julian! This is a cruelty more cunningly contrived than all the horrors of the torture-chamber. Against whom is he leading his hosts? Less against the Persian king than against Christ.
Makrina.
Do you believe this dreadful thing of him?
Basil.
Yes, Makrina, it becomes more and more clear to me that 'tis against <g>us</g> the blow is aimed. All the defeats he has suffered in Antioch, all the resistance he has met with, all the disappointments and humiliations he has had to endure on his ungodly path, he hopes to bury in oblivion by means of a victorious campaign. And he will succeed. A great victory will blot out everything. Men are fashioned so; they see right in success, and before might most of them will bend.
Makrina.
[Pointing out to the left.] Fresh multitudes! Innumerable, unceasing [A company of soldiers passes by; a young man in the ranks sinks down on the road from weariness.
A Subaltern.
[Beating him with a stick.] Up with you, lazy hound!
Makrina.
[Hastening up.] Oh, do not strike him!
