- light, that I may see you.—How you have grown,
Agathon;—how strong you look.
Agathon.
And you are paler.
Julian.
I cannot thrive in the air of the palace. I think it is unwholesome here.—'Tis far otherwise at Makellon. Makellon lies high. No other town in Cappadocia lies so high; ah, how the fresh snow-winds from the Taurus sweep over it
! Are you weary, Agathon?Agathon.
Oh, in no wise.
Julian.
Let us sit down nevertheless. It is so quiet and lonely here. Close together; so! [Draws him down upon a seat beside the balustrade.]—"Can any good thing come out of Cappadocia," they say. Yes—friends can come. Can anything be better?
[Looks long at him.
How was it possible that I did not know you at once? Oh, my beloved treasure, is it not just as when we were boys
?Agathon.
[Sinking down before him.] I at your feet, as of old.
Julian.
No, no, no
!Agathon.
Oh, let me kneel thus!