Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 5).djvu/242

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A barter, Sallust; the lives of thousands against the death of thousands.

Have your enemies the right to live?

Happy you, whose gods are afar off. Oh, to possess this hardihood of will!

[Calling from deep in the galleries below.] Julian, Julian!

Ah! What is that?

Leave me, dear friend; go quickly!

Silence the psalm-singing, Julian!

It calls again. Oh, then it is true!

What is true?

That you abide down here with a mysterious stranger, a soothsayer or a magician, who came to you by night.

Ha-ha; do they say that? Go, go!