Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 5).djvu/188

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You beautiful, you peerless one!

[Bowing herself down over his hands.] My lord before God and men!—Draw not back this time, Julian! My hero, my Emperor! I see heaven open. Priests shall sing praises to Christ; my women shall assemble in prayer. [''With upraised arms.''] Oh, thou blessed One! Oh, thou God of Hosts,—thou, in whose hand lie grace and victory

[With a look towards the door, exclaims:] Helena!

Ah!

[From the back.] My lord, the Emperor's emissary

Is he come?

Yes, my lord!

His name? Who is he?

The tribune Decentius.

Indeed? The pious Decentius!