On hearing these words Aurelia, wife of Gremion, turned pale and said to Jane:

'Our husbands! already returned! they have turned back; they will find us absent from our homes; they will know that we have left them since yesterday; we are lost.'

'Have we, then, anything to reproach ourselves with?' replied Jane: 'Have we not been listening to teachings, and assisting at examples which renders good hearts still better?'

'Dear mistress,' said Genevieve to Aurelia, 'I think that the Seigneur Gremion has recognized you from his horse, for he is speaking quietly to the Seigneur Chusa, and is pointing his finger this way.'

'Ah! I tremble!' replied Aurelia, 'what's to be done? What will become of me? Oh! cursed be my curiosity!'

'Blessed, on the contrary,' said Jane to her; 'for you carry away treasures in your heart. Let us go boldly and meet our husbands; ‘tis the wicked who hide themselves and bow their heads. Come, Aurelia, come, and let us walk home with a firm front.'

'Adieu, you who tendered me a hand when I had fallen into contempt; your remembrance will be always present to Magdalen in her future solitude.'

'Of what solitude do you speak?' said Jane, surprised: 'where are you going, then, Mary Magdalen?'

'To the desert!' replied the penitent, stretching her arms towards the summit of the arid mountains beyond which extend the desolate solitudes of the dead sea:

'I go to the desert to weep for my sins, bearing in my heart a treasure of hope! Blessed be the son of Mary, to whom I am indebted for this divine treasure!'

The crowd, opening respectfully before this great repentant, she slowly retired towards the mountains. Scarcely had Magdalen disappeared, when Jane, leading her friend almost in spite of herself, advanced towards the cavaliers through the people, irritated at the coarse words of the escort.

'Woe to you, Herod's steward! who crush us with taxes, and eat up the house of the widow and the orphan!

'Woe to you, too, Roman! who also come to take a part in robbing us!'

Banaias, with one hand waiving his cutlass in a threatening and ferocious manner, approached the two seigneurs, and, showing his fist to them, exclaimed:

'The fox is cowardly and cruel! but he has called to his aid the wolf, whose teeth are longer, and whose strength is greater! The fox, cowardly and cruel, is your master Herod, Seigneur Chusa! and the ferocious wolf, is Tiberius, your own master, Roman! who helps the fox in hunting the game!'

And as the Seigneur Chusa, pale with rage, was about to draw his sword to strike Banaias, the latter raised his cutlass, and exclaimed:

'By the belly of Goliath! I will cut you in two like a water melon, if you put a hand on your sword!'

The two seigneurs, having only five or six men as an escort, restrained themselves, from a fear of being stoned by the enraged people, and endeavored to sneak out of the crowd, which, more and more enraged, exclaimed:

'Yes, woe to you! tax-gatherers of Herod and Tiberius! Woe to you! for we are hungry; and the bread moistened with our sweat, which we carry to our lips, you snatch it from our hands in the name of taxes!

Chusa and Gremion, more and more alarmed, consulted each other by a look, not knowing how to escape this menacing crowd. The most threatening already began to pick up large stones at the voice of Banaias, who had exclaimed on replacing his cutlass at his belt, and arming himself with a large stone:

'Our master said this morning, speaking of the poor girl whom these hypocritical pharisees would have stoned, 'Let him who is without sin throw the first stone.' And I, my friends, say this to you—

'Let him who has been flayed by the tax-gatherer throw the first stone at these flayers! and may it be followed by many another!'

'Yes, yes!' cried the crowd, 'Let them disappear under a mountain of stones.'

'Let us stone them!'

'To the stones! to the stones!'

'Our husbands are exposed to danger, ‘tis another reason why we should approach them,' said Jane to Aurelia, redoubling her efforts in order to reach the cavaliers, more and more surrounded.

Suddenly was heard the gentle and penetrating voice of the Nazarene dominating the tumult and pronouncing these words—

At these words of Mary's son, the popular tempest was appeased as if by enchantment. The crowd was calmed, became silent, and by a spontaneous movement, turned aside to make room for the cavaliers and their escort. Then Jane and Aurelia contrived to reach their husbands. At the sight of his wife, Seigneur Gremion said to Chusa in an angry manner:

'I was sure of it! I had recognized my wife!'

'And mine also accompanies her!' said Chusa, not less enraged.

'And like her, under a disguise. ‘Tis the abomination of desolation.'

'Nothing is wanting to the fete,' added Gremion, 'for here is my wife's slave.'

Jane, always gentle and calm, said to her husband:

'Seigneur, give me a place; I will mount on behind on your horse to reach my house.'

'Yes,' replied Chusa, grinding his teeth with rage: 'you shall reach home with me. But, by the columns of the temple! you shall not again quit it without me.'

Jane made no reply, but tendered her hand to her husband for him to assist her to get up behind; with a light bound she seated herself on the horse.

'Mount behind me also,' said Gremion to his wife, in an angry tone.

'Your slave Genevieve; and by Jupiter she shall pay dear for her complicity in this indignity! your slave, Genevieve, shall mount behind one of the cavaliers of the escort.'

'No, by Hercules!' exclaimed the Roman; 'to find my wife disguised as a man in the midst of this band of ragged beggars and seditious wretches!—‘Tis incredible; no, by Hercules! till I came to Judea I never heard of such an enormity.'

'And I, who am of Judea, seigneur,' observed Chusa, 'I am no more than yourself, accustomed to these enormities. I knew well that beggars, thieves, and abandoned women followed this cursed Nazarene. But may the wrath of God strike me on the instant, if I have ever heard of the indignity to mix themselves with the vile populace that this man drags after him in every country; a vile populace that would just now have stoned us, but for the valor of our attitude,' added Chusa with a victorious air.

'Yes, luckily, we imposed on these wretches by our courage,' replied Gremion, 'otherwise there would have been an end of us. Ah! you said true, this is another proof of the hatred and resentments produced by the incendiary predictions of the Nazarene; he dreams of nothing but exciting the poor against the rich.'

'Did not the young master, on the contrary, appease the fury of the crowd?' said the gentle but firm voice of Jane. 'Did he not say: 'Let these men go in peace, and let them sin no more.'

'The young man of Nazareth,' resumed Jane, 'cannot answer for what is said and done in his name. The crowd was unjustly excited against you, when by a word he appeased it. What more could he do?'

'There again!' exclaimed Chusa. 'And by what right does this Nazarene calm or excite the popular will as he chooses? Do you know why we are returning to Jerusalem? It is because we are assured that in consequence of the abominable predictions of this man, the mountaineers of Judea and the laborers of the plain of Saron, would stone us if we presented ourselves to collect the taxes.'

'The young man has said: "Render unto Cæsar that which is Cæsar's, and unto God that which is God's!"' continued Jane. 'Is it then his fault, if the population, crushed by the taxes, are unable to pay more?'

'And, by Hercules! they must pay, and will, too!' exclaimed Gremion, 'we are returning to Jerusalem to obtain an escort of troops sufficient to put down rebellion; and woe to those who resist us!'

'And above all, woe to this Nazarene!' said Chusa; 'he alone is the cause of all the evil. So I am going to inform Prince Herod, and the Seigneurs Pontius Pilate and Caiphus, of the increasing audacity of this vagabond, and to demand, if necessary, his death.'

When Genevieve, with her mistress, was brought back to the house of Seigneur Chusa, the latter said to his wife, in an angry tone: 'Seek your chamber.'

Aurelia bent down her head, sighing, obeyed, and threw on her slave a sad look of adieu. Gremion then took Genevieve by the arm, and led her to a low room, a kind of cellar, destined for holding the leather sacks filled with oil, wine, and other provisions. This place was reached by descending a few steps. Genevieve's master pushed her so rudely that she slipped, and fell, from step to step, to the ground, whilst Gremion closed the massive door of this low chamber. The young woman raised herself in pain, seated herself on the stone, and at first wept bitterly. Her tears then became almost sweet, when she thought that she suffered for having gone to listen to the words of the young man of Nazareth, so kind to the poor and the slaves, so merciful to the repentant, so severe to the wicked and the hypocritical.

This cruel punishment, so often suffered by female slaves, Genevieve, thanks to the kindness of the gods and of her mistress, had not yet undergone; thus, in her terror, she could only join her hands, stretch them towards her master, and supplicating, fall upon her knees. But Gremion, standing aside to make way for the two men who had remained on the top step of the staircase, said to them, 'Undress her! flog her well till the blood comes. She shall remember assisting at the predictions of this cursed Nazarene.'

When the two executioners were weary of flogging, one of them unbound Genevieve, and her master said to her:

'You shall not leave this place for a week; during that time my wife shall do without you; she shall wait upon herself, this shall be her punishment.'

And Gremion, retiring with the two men, left Genevieve alone. It was now no longer the tender and merciful words of Jesus that came to the mind of the slave, as they had come to her before her punishment. It was the words of vengeance and of curses which he had also pronounced the same morning against the wicked and the oppressors.

Genevieve had been for three days confined in the underground room of the house, where Gremion, her master, had brought her every morning a little food, when one night very late, the door of the slave's prison opened; she saw her mistress, Aurelia, enter, holding a lamp in one hand, and with the other a packet, which she deposited on the steps of the staircase.

'Poor woman! you have greatly suffered on my account,' said Aurelia, whose eyes were moistened with tears, on approaching Genevieve. The latter, despite the kindness of her mistress, could not help saying to her with bitterness:

'If you had a daughter, and men had stripped her of her clothes to beat her with a whip, by order of a master, what would you then say of slavery?'

'Genevieve, you accuse me, and I am not the cause of these cruelties!'

'It is not you I accuse; it is slavery; you are kind to me. But still, look how I have been treated.'

'In vain, for the last three days, have I sought your pardon from my husband,' said Aurelia, her voice full of compassion.

'And how have you obtained possession of it to-night?'

'He had placed it under his pillow; I profited by his sleep, and I am come.'

'I have suffered much more of shame than of pain,' continued Genevieve, overcome by the grief of her mistress; 'but your kind words console me!'

'Listen, Genevieve, I am not here simply to console you; you can fly from this house and render a great service to the young man of Nazareth, perhaps even save his life.'

'What say you, my dear mistress?' exclaimed Genevieve; thinking less of her liberty than of the service she might render to the Nazarene.

'Oh! speak; my life, if necessary, for him who said that "one day the chains of the slave shall be broken!"'

'Since the night we passed listening to the predictions of Jesus, Jane and I have not met; the Seigneur Chusa had prevented her from leaving her house to come here; to-night, however, yielding to her prayer, he brought her here, and whilst he was conversing with my husband, do you know what Jane told me?'

'About the young man of Nazareth?'

'Yes.'

'Alas! some new persecution!'

'He is betrayed! They will arrest him this very night, and kill him!'

'Betrayed! he! and by whom?'

'By one of his disciples.'

'Ah! the infamous wretch!'

'What! to-night? This very night?'

'Yes, a traitor, one of his disciples, named Judas, is to betray him into their hands.'

'One of those who, the other night, accompanied him to the tavern of the "Wild Ass."'

'The one whose gloomy and treacherous figure you remarked. Judas then went to the high priests and the doctors of law, and said to them: "Give me money, and I will deliver the Nazarene to you."'

'The wretch!'

'He has agreed for thirty pieces of silver from the pharisees; and at the present moment perhaps the poor young man, who suspects nothing, is a victim of the treason.'

'Alas! if such is the case, what service can I render him?'

'I immediately informed Jane of the cruel vengeance that my husband had exercised towards you; but Jane, far from renouncing her project, asked me where Gremion placed the key of the prison: "Under his pillow," I answered her.'

'Endeavor to take it whilst he sleeps,' said Jane to me. 'If you succeed in getting possession of it, go and release Genevieve; it will be easy for you afterwards to get her out of the house; she will soon arrive at the tavern of the 'Wild Ass,' and there, perhaps, they will tell her where the young man may be found.'

'Oh! dear mistress!' exclaimed Genevieve, 'I shall never forget the confidence you and your friend place in me; try at once to open the door of the prison.'

'Wait a moment, for before deciding we must think of the rage of my husband. It is not for myself I fear, but for you. When you return here, poor Genevieve, judge from what you have suffered what you will still have to suffer!'

'Think not of me!'

'We have thought of it, on the contrary. Listen again: the nurse of my friend lives near the Judicial gate; she sells woolen cloths and her name is Veronica, the wife of Samuel: shall you remember these names?'

'No, not at least until I have told you where you may find refuge; it will be impossible for you to return here, for I tremble at the treatment to which my husband would subject you.'

'What! quit you forever?'

'Would you rather submit to an infamous punishment again, and perhaps worse tortures?'

'I would much rather prefer death to such disgrace!'

'My husband will not kill you because you are worth money. This separation is therefore indispensable; it costs me dear, because never, perhaps, shall I find a slave in whom I have such confidence as you; but what would you? Since I have listened to the words of this young man, I share the enthusiasm he has inspired in Jane; and will try to save him....'

'Can you doubt it, dear mistress?'

'No, I know your devotedness and your courage. This, then, is what you must do; if you succeed in finding the young man of Nazareth, you will apprise him that he is betrayed by Judas, one of his disciples, and that he has only to fly from Jerusalem to escape the pharisees; they have sworn his death! Jane thinks that by retiring to Galilee, his native country, Mary's son will be saved, for his cowardly enemies would not dare to follow him there.'

'Jane had also thought of this plan; but that he might raise the people in his favor, either Jesus or his disciples must be apprised of the danger which menaces him.'

'Consequently, dear mistress, we have not a moment to lose.'

'Listen once more, poor Genevieve: you forget the perils that surround you! When, therefore, you have warned the young man, or one of his disciples, you will repair to Veronica's, Samuel's wife; you will tell her that you came from Jane, and as a proof of the truth you will give her this ring, which my friend drew from her finger; you will beg Veronica to conceal you in her house, and go immediately to Jane's, who will instruct her as to what she and I intend doing for you.

'Veronica,' said my friend to me, 'is kind and obliging; to the young Nazarene she and her husband owe a debt of gratitude, because he cured one of their children; you will therefore be safely concealed in their house until Jane and I have decided upon something respecting you. This is not all, in this packet I have brought your disguise as a young man, which I have just taken from the room in which you sleep; it will be more prudent to put on these garments of a man. It will be safer whilst running about the streets of Jerusalem at night and entering the tavern of the Wild Ass.'

'Dear, dear mistress, always kind, you think of all.'

Aurelia, having quitted the low room, returned in a few minutes and found Genevieve dressed as a young man and buckling the leather belt of her tunic.

'It is impossible to open the door!' said Aurelia in despair to her slave; 'the key is not within the lock where it is usually left.'

'Dear mistress, come,' said Genevieve, 'let us try again. Come, quick.'

And the two, after crossing the court, arrived at the street door. The efforts of Genevieve were as vain as those of her mistress had been to open it. She had surmounted one of the half arches, but without a ladder it was impossible to reach the opening. Suddenly Genevieve remarked to Aurelia:

'I have read in the family narratives left by Fergan, that one of his ancestresses, named Meroe, the wife of a sailor, had, by the help of her husband, been enabled to mount a high tree.'

'By what means?'

'Just lean your back against this door, dear mistress; now, enlace your two hands in such a way that I can place my foot in their hollow; I will next place the other on your shoulder, and perhaps thus I shall be enabled to reach the arch, and from thence I will endeavor to descend into the street.'

Suddenly the slave heard at a distance the voice of Seigneur Gremion from the upper story, call out in an angry tone:

'My husband,' exclaimed the young wife trembling.

'Oh! Genevieve, you are lost!'

'Your hands! your hands! dear mistress; if I can only reach to this opening, I am saved.'

Aurelia obeyed almost mechanically, for the menacing voice of the Seigneur Gremion drew nearer and nearer.

The slave, after having placed one of her feet in the hollow of the two hands of her mistress, rested her other foot lightly on her shoulder, thus reached the opening, contrived to place herself on the thickness of the wall, and rested for a few moments kneeling under the half arch.

'But in jumping into the street,' suddenly exclaimed Aurelia in fear, 'you will hurt yourself, poor Genevieve.'

At this moment arrived the Seigneur Gremion, pale, enraged, and holding a lamp in his hand.

'What are you doing there?' he cried, addressing his wife; 'reply! reply!'

Then perceiving the slave kneeling above the door, he added:

'Ah! wretch! you would escape, and ‘tis my wife who favors your flight?'

'Yes,' replied Aurelia courageously, 'yes; and should you kill me on the spot, she shall escape your ill treatment.'

'By Hercules! will you let me pass? oh! I will get outside and wait for your miserable slave, and if she does not break her limbs in jumping into the street, I will break her bones!'

'Try to get down and save yourself, Genevieve,' cried Aurelia; 'fear nothing, they shall trample me under foot before I open the door—'

Genevieve raised her eyes to heaven to invoke the gods, jumped from the arch above the door and was lucky enough to reach the ground without hurting herself. She remained however for a moment, stunned by the fall; she then rose up hastily and took to flight, her heart beating at the cries she heard proceeding from her mistress, who was being ill treated by her husband.

The slave, after running some way to get beyond her master's house, stopped, breathless, to consider in what direction was situated the tavern of the Wild Ass, where she hoped to hear of the young man of Nazareth, whom she wished to warn of the danger that menaced him. At this tavern she learnt that some hours before he had gone, with several of his disciples, towards the river Cedron, to a garden planted with olive trees, where he often repaired at night to meditate and pray.

Genevieve ran hastily to this place. The moment she had passed the gate of the city, she saw in the distance the light of several torches reflected on the helmets and armor of a great number of soldiers; they marched in disorder and uttered confused clamors.

'Seigneur, he whom you see me embrace will be the Nazarene.'

'Oh! this time,' replied the officer, 'he shall not escape us; and to-morrow, before sunset, the rebel will have suffered the punishment due to his crimes. Let us hasten, let us hasten; some of his disciples might have given him notice of our arrival. Let us also be very prudent, for fear of falling into an ambush, and let us also be very prudent when we are on the point of seizing the Nazarene: he might employ against us magical and diabolical ways. If I recommend prudence to you,' added the officer to his men, in a valorous tone, '‘tis not that I fear danger, but ‘tis to secure the success of our enterprise.'

'A disciple of Jesus!' exclaimed the slave, once more alarmed. 'He is here, then?'

Then addressing the man: 'Since you are a disciple of Jesus, save him: there is still time. See those torches in the distance; listen to the confused murmurs! They approach; they will take him, they will kill him. Save him, save him, oh, save him!'

'Who,' inquired the disciple, still half unconscious with sleep; 'who is it they would kill? Who are you?'

'No matter to you who I am; but save your master, I tell you: they are coming to seize him. The soldiers advance. See you those torches yonder?'

'Asleep, like yourself, perhaps,' replied Genevieve. 'And you have not strength enough to resist sleep?'

'No, I and my companions struggled in vain; our master came twice to awake us, mildly reproaching us for thus sleeping. He then went once more to meditate and pray under the trees.'

'The militia men!' exclaimed Genevieve on seeing the light of the torches approaching nearer and nearer. 'They are here! He is lost, unless he remains concealed in the wood, or that you all die to defend him. Are you armed?'

'We have no arms!' replied the disciple, beginning to tremble; 'and besides, to try to resist soldiers, ‘tis madness!'

'No arms!' exclaimed Genevieve, very indignant. 'Is there any need of arms? Are not the stones in the road? Is not courage sufficient to crush these men?'

'We are not men of the sword,' said the disciple, looking round him with uneasiness, for the soldiers were already near enough for their torches to throw a light on Genevieve, the disciple and several of his companions, whom she then perceived, here and there, still asleep under the trees. They suddenly awoke at the voice of their comrade, who called them, going from one to the other.

The soldiers hastened in a tumult, seeing, from the light of the torches, several men; some still reclining, others rising, others again on their feet, rushed upon them, menacing them with their swords and sticks, for some were only armed with sticks, and all cried out:

The traitor, and infamous disciple, after having examined by the light of the torches his ancient companions, detained prisoners, said to the officer:

'The young master is not amongst these.'

'Will he escape us this time?' exclaimed the officer.

'By the pillars of the temple! you promised to deliver him to us, Judas: you have received the price of his blood; you must deliver him to us, Judas!'

Genevieve had kept aloof; suddenly she saw a few paces off, towards the olive wood, a white form, which issuing from the darkness, approached slowly towards the soldiers. The heart of Genevieve almost broke; it was no doubt the young Nazarene, attracted by the noise of the tumult.—She was not deceived. Presently she recognized Jesus; on his sad and gentle features she read neither fear nor surprise.

Judas made a sign of intelligence to the officer, ran to meet the young man of Nazareth, and said, whilst embracing him,

'Master, I kiss you.'

'Whom seek you?'

'We seek Jesus,' replied the officer, still keeping behind his soldiers:

'We seek Jesus of Nazareth.'

'I am he!' said the Nazarene, making a step towards the soldiers. But the latter drew back frightened.

Jesus resumed: 'Once more, whom is it you seek?'

'Jesus of Nazareth!' they all cried with one voice; 'we wish to take Jesus of Nazareth!' and they again drew back.

'I have already told you that I am he,' replied the young man, going to them; 'and since you seek me, take me, but allow these to go,' he added, pointing to his disciples still retained as prisoners.

The officer made a sign to the soldiers who did not seem as yet completely reassured; they approached Jesus, however, to bind him, whilst he said to them mildly: 'You came here armed with swords and sticks to take me, as if I were a malefactor, and yet, I sat amidst you every day in the temple, praying, and you did not arrest me.'

Then, of himself, he tendered his hands to the cords with which they bound him. The cowardly disciples of the young man had not had the courage to defend him; they dared not even accompany him to his prison; and the moment they were released by the soldiers, they fled on all sides. A mournful smile crossed the lips of Jesus, when he found himself thus betrayed and abandoned by those he had so loved, and whom he believed his friends.

The soldiers quitted the olive wood, having their prisoner in the midst of them; they directed their steps towards the town.

After some time Genevieve perceived that a man, whose features she could not distinguish in the darkness, was walking behind her, and she frequently heard the man sigh and sob.

Genevieve then seeing, at the extremity of the court, a strong light escaping from a door beyond which pressed the soldiers of the escort, approached them. The door was that of a hall in the middle of which was erected a tribunal lighted by a number of flambeaux. Seated behind this tribunal, she recognized several of the persons she had seen at the supper given by Pontius Pilate; the Seigneurs Caiphus, the high priest; Baruch, doctor of law; Jonas, the banker, were among the judges of the young man of Nazareth. He was conducted before them; his hands bound, his features still calm, gentle and sad; a short distance from him were the officers of the court, and behind these, mixed with the soldiers and the servants of Caiphus, the two mysterious emissaries whom Genevieve had remarked at the tavern of the Wild Ass. Inasmuch as the countenance of the friend of the afflicted was serene and dignified, so did those of his judges appear violently irritated; they expressed the joy of a disgraceful triumph; they spoke in a low tone and from time to time they pointed with a menacing gesture to Mary's son, who patiently awaited his interrogatory.

Genevieve, confounded among those who filled the hall, heard them say to one another:

'He is at last taken, then, this Nazarene, who preached revolt!'

'Oh! he is less haughty now than when he was at the head of his troop of vagabonds and abandoned women!'

'And this is not all,' said another; 'if we listened to this cursed Nazarene, our masters, voluntarily impoverished, would denounce all pleasures; they would not throw away every day superb robes or tunics because the embroidery or color of these garments did not please them. Now, who profits by these caprices of our ostentatious masters, unless ourselves, since tunics and robes all fall to our share?'

'And if our masters renounced pleasures, to live on fasting and prayer, they would have no more gay mistresses, they would no longer charge us with those amorous commissions, recompensed magnificently in case of success!'

'Yes, yes,' they all cried together; 'death to the Nazarene who would make of us, who live in idleness, abundance and gaiety, beggars or beasts of burthen!'

Genevieve heard many other remarks, spoken half aloud and menacing for the life of Jesus; one of the two mysterious emissaries, behind whom she stood, said to his companion: 'Our evidence will now suffice to condemn this cursed fellow; I have come to an understanding with Caiphus.'

One of the two emissaries advanced to the foot of the tribunal and said in a solemn voice:

'I swear having heard this man affirm that the high priests and doctors of the law were all hypocrites, and that he treated them as a race of serpents and vipers!'

A murmur of indignation rose from the soldiers and servants of the priests, the judges looked at one another, appearing to ask each other if it were possible that such words could have been pronounced. The other emissary approached near his companion and added in a voice not less solemn:

'I swear having heard this man affirm that they must revolt against Prince Herod and against the Emperor Tiberius, the august protector of Israel, in order to proclaim Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews.'

While a smile of pity crossed the lips of Mary's son at these false accusations, since he had said: 'Render unto Cæsar that which is Cæsar's, and unto God that which is God's!' the pharisees of the tribunal lifted up their hands to heaven as if to invoke it as a witness of such enormities. One of the high priest's servants, advancing in his turn, said to the judges:

'I swear having heard this man say, that they must massacre all the pharisees, pillage their houses and violate their wives and daughters!'

'Pillage! massacre! and violation!' exclaimed some.

'Such is the object of the Nazarene! ‘Tis for this he drags after him this band of wretches.'

'He would some day, at their head, give up Jerusalem to fire, pillage and blood!'

The high priest Caiphus, president of the tribunal, signed to one of the officers to demand silence; the officer again struck the floor with his mace, all were silent. Caiphus, addressing the young Nazarene in a menacing voice, said to him:

'Why do you not reply to what these persons depose against you?'

Jesus said to him in an accent full of gentleness and dignity:

'I have spoken publicly to every one; I have always taught in the temple and in the synagogue in which all the Jews were assembled; I have said nothing in secret, why, then, do you question me? Question those who have heard me, to ascertain what I have said to them: these know what I have taught.'

Scarce had he spoken these words when Genevieve saw one of the officers, furious at this reply, so just and so calm, raise his hand against Jesus and strike him in the face, exclaiming:

'Is it thus you reply to the high priest?'

Jesus still remained placid, but he turned to the officer and said to him mildly:

'If I have spoken evil show me the evil I have done; but if I have spoken well, why strikest thou me?'

These words and his angelic sweetness did not disarm the persecutors of the young man; coarse laughter again burst from the hall and the insults recommenced on all sides.

'Oh! the Nazarene, the man of peace, the enemy of war, does not belie himself; he is a coward and allows himself to be struck in the face.'

'Call your disciples, then; let them come and avenge you if you have not the courage.'

'His disciples,' said one of the soldiers who had arrested Jesus. 'His disciples! ah! if you had but seen them! At sight of our lances and our torches the vagabonds fled like a flight of owls!'

'They were glad enough to escape the tyranny of the Nazarene, who kept them near him by magic!'

'As a proof that they hate and despise him, not one dared accompany him hither.'

'I swear, lastly, that this man has horribly blasphemed by saying that he is Christ, the son of God!'

Then Caiphus, addressing Jesus, said to him in a tone still more menacing: 'You reply nothing to what these persons say of you?'

But the young man only shrugged his shoulders and still continued silent. This irritated Caiphus, he rose from his seat and exclaimed, pointing with his finger to the son of Mary: 'On the part of the living God, I order you to tell us if you are the Christ, the son of God.'

'You have said it, I am,' replied the young man smiling.

Genevieve had heard Jesus say, that like all men, his brothers, he was a son of God; just as the Druids teach that all men are sons of the same God. What then was the surprise of the slave, when she saw the high priest, when Jesus had replied that he was the son of God, rise up and tear his robe with all the appearance of horror and alarm, exclaiming, addressing the members of the tribunal:

'He has blasphemed; what need have we of more witnesses? You, yourselves, have heard him blaspheme, how do you judge him?'

'He deserves death!'

Such was the reply of all the judges of this court of inquiry. But the voices of Doctor Baruch and of the banker Jonas rose above every other; they cried out, striking with their fist the marble table of the tribunal:

'Death for the Nazarene! He has deserved death!'

'To death with the cursed blasphemer!'

'Conduct this criminal instantly before the Seigneur Pontius Pilate, Governor of Judea, for the Emperor Tiberius,' said Caiphus to the soldiers; 'he alone can give orders to put the condemned to death.'

At these words of the high priest they dragged Jesus from the house of Caiphus to take him before Pontius Pilate. Genevieve, confounded with the servants, followed the soldiers. On passing the door she saw Peter, the cowardly disciple of Jesus (the least cowardly of all, however, she thought, since alone, he had at least followed him there), she saw Peter turn away his eyes, when Jesus seeking for a look from his disciple, passed before him, conducted by the soldiers. One of the female servants recognising Peter said to him:

'You, too, were with Jesus the Galilean?'

But Peter, reddening and casting down his eyes, replied:

'I know not what you say.'

Another servant, hearing Peter's reply, said, pointing him out to the bystanders:

'I tell you that this one was also with Jesus of Nazareth!'

'I swear,' exclaimed Peter, 'I swear that I know not Jesus of Nazareth!'

She thus explained to herself the painful sadness she had remarked on his features. A great mind like this could not fear death, but despair at the ingratitude of those whom he thought his dearest friends.

The slave quitted the house of the high priest, where Peter the renegade remained, and soon rejoined the soldiers who were leading away Jesus. The day began to break, several mendicants and vagabonds who had slept on the benches placed on each side of the door of the houses, awoke at the noise of the soldiers who were leading away Jesus. Genevieve hoped for a moment that these poor people who followed him everywhere, would call him their friend, whose misfortunes he so kindly pitied, would apprise their companions and assemble them to release Jesus; consequently she said to one of these men:

'Know you not that these soldiers are leading away the young man of Nazareth, the friend of the poor and afflicted? They would kill him; hasten to defend him; release him; raise the people. These soldiers of Jerusalem will fly perhaps, but the soldiers of Pontius Pilate are tougher; they have good lances, thick cuirasses, and well tempered swords.'

'What could we attempt?'

The beggar shook his head and replied whilst one of his companions approached him:

'Wretched as life may be, we cling to it, and ‘tis running to meet death if we stake our rags against the cuirasses of the Roman soldiers.'

'And then,' said another vagabond, 'if Jesus of Nazareth is a Messiah, as so many others have been before him, and so many others will be after him, ‘tis a misfortune if they kill him; but Messiahs are never wanting in Israel.'

'And if they put him to death!' said Genevieve, 'it is because he has loved you; it is because he pitied your wretchedness; it is because he has shamed the rich for their hypocrisy and their hardness of heart towards those who suffer!'

'It is true; he constantly predicted for us the kingdom of God on earth,' replied the vagabond again, reclining on his bench, as also his companion, to warm themselves by the rays of the morning sun; 'yet these fine days he promised us do not arrive, and we are just as poor to-day as we were yesterday.'

'Eh! and what tells you that these fine days, promised by him, will not arrive to-morrow?' continued Genevieve; 'does not the harvest require time to take root, to grow, and to ripen? Poor, blind and impatient that you are, recollect that to leave him to die, whom you call your friend, before he has fertilized the good seeds he has sown in so many hearts, is to trample under foot, is to destroy whilst yet only grass, a harvest perhaps magnificent.'

'Shall I encounter, then, everywhere nothing but ingratitude, forgetfulness, treason and cowardice? Oh! it is not the body of Jesus that will be crucified, it will be his heart.'

The slave hastened to join the soldiers who were approaching the house of Pontius Pilate.—At the moment she doubled her pace, she remarked a sort of tumult amongst the Jerusalem militia, which suddenly stopped. She mounted on a bench and saw Banaias alone at the entrance of a narrow arcade which the soldiers had to cross to reach the governor's house, audaciously barring the passage, brandishing his long stick terminated by a knob of iron.

'Ah! this one at least does not abandon him he calls his friend!' thought Genevieve.

'By the shoulders of Samson!' cried Banaias in his loud voice, 'if you do not instantly set our friend at liberty, militia of Beelzebub! I'll beat you as dry as the flail beats the wheat on the barn floor! Ah! if I had but time to collect a band of companions as resolute as myself to defend our friend of Nazareth, ‘tis an order I would give you instead of a simple prayer, and this simple prayer I repeat: set our friend at liberty, or else by the jawbone used by Samson, I will destroy you all like he destroyed the Philistines!'

The Jerusalem militia was not a very valiant troop, for they had hesitated before arresting Jesus, who advanced towards them, alone and disarmed: so that, despite the orders of their chief, they remained a moment undecided before the menacing attitude of Banaias.

In vain did Jesus, whose firm and gentle voice was heard by Genevieve, endeavor to appease his defender, and entreat him to retire. Banaias resumed in a threatening tone, thus replying to the supplications of the young Nazarene:

'Do not trouble yourself about me, friend; you are a man of peace and quietness. I am a man of violence and battle, when the feeble are to be protected. Let me alone. I will stop these wicked soldiers here, until the noise of the tumult has apprised and brought my companions; and then, by the five hundred concubines of Solomon, who danced before him, you shall see these devils of the militia dance to the tune of our knobbed sticks, keeping time on their helmets and cuirasses.'

'How much longer will you suffer yourselves to be insulted by a single man, you cowardly dogs?' exclaimed the officer to his men.

'Oh! if I had not orders not to quit the Nazarene more than his shadow, I would set you an example, and my long sword should already have cut the throat of this brigand!'

And Banaias fell on the soldiers of the militia, swaying about his redoubtable stick, despite the prayers of Jesus.

At first, surprised and shaken by so much audacity, some soldiers of the front rank of the escort gave way; but presently, ashamed at not resisting one man, they rallied, attacked Banaias in their turn, who, overcome by numbers, despite his heroic courage, fell dead, covered with wounds. Genevieve then saw the soldiers, in their rage, throw to the bottom of a well, near the arcade, the bleeding body of the only defender of Jesus. After this exploit, the officer, brandishing his long sword, placed himself at the head of his troop, and they arrived at the house of Pontius Pilate, where Genevieve had accompanied her mistress, Aurelia, a few days previous.

The sun was already high. Attracted by the noise of the struggle of Banaias with the soldiers, several inhabitants of Jerusalem, issuing from their houses, had followed the militia. The house of the Roman governor was in the richest quarters of the town. The persons who, from curiosity, accompanied Jesus, far from pitying him, loaded him with insults and hootings.

'At last, then,' cried some, 'the Nazarene, who brought so much trouble and confusion on our town, is taken!'

'The demagogue who set the beggars against princes! The impious! who blasphemed our holy religion! The audacious! who brought trouble into our families, praising the prodigal and debauched sons,' said one of the emissaries, who had followed the troop.

'Thanks be to God!' added a money-changer, 'if this Nazarene is put to death, which will only be justice, we can then re-open our counters under the colonnade of the temple, whence this profaner and his band had driven us, and where we dared not return.'

'What fools we were to fear his assemblage of beggars!' added a dealer in merchandise.

'See if one of them has simply dared rebel to defend this Nazarene, by whose name they were always swearing, he whom they called their friend!'

'Let them finish with the brawler! Let him be crucified, and we shall hear no more of him!'