'Oh! may these times come! for where is the use of people murdering people?'
'What bloodshed!'
'And who profits by it? The conquering Pharaohs! Men of blood, of battle, and of rapine.'
'Oh! may the time of happiness, justice and gentleness come; and, as the prophets say, 'a little child shall lead us all.'
'Yes, a little child will suffice; for we shall be gentle because we shall be happy,' said Banaias; 'whereas now we are so unhappy, so enraged, that a hundred giants would not be sufficient to restrain us.'
'And these times come,' continued Peter; 'all having a share in the good of the earth, fertilized by the labor of each, all being sure of living in peace and contentment, we shall no longer see the idle living on the fruits of another's labor. Has not the Lord said through the son of David, one of his elected:
"I hated all my labor which I have taken under the sun, because I should leave it to the man that should come after me.
"For there is a man who labors with wisdom, with science, and with industry, and he shall leave all he has acquired to a man who has given to it no labor: and who knows not if he will be prudent or foolish?
"Now, this is vanity and great affliction."
'You know,' added the apostle, 'the voice of the son of David is as sacred as justice. No, he who has not labored ought not to profit by the labor of another!'
'But suppose I have a child,' said a voice; 'suppose, by depriving myself of sleep, and a portion of my daily bread, I continue to spare something for him, that he might not know the miseries I have suffered, is it unjust, then?'
'Eh! who speaks to you of the present?' exclaimed Peter; 'who speaks to you of these times, in which the strong oppress the weak, the rich the poor, the unjust the just, the master the slave? In times of storm and tempest, each builds up as he can a shelter for him and his: this is but right.—But when the time promised by our prophets shall come, a divine time, when a benificent sun shall always blaze, when there shall be no more storms, when the birth of every child shall be welcomed by joyous songs, as a blessing from the Lord, instead of being lamented as an affliction, as at present; because, conceived in tears, man, in our time, lives and dies in tears; when, on the contrary, the child conceived in joy, shall live in joy; when labor, now crushing, shall be itself a joy, so shall the fruits of the promised land beabundant; each tranquil as to the prosperity of his children, shall no longer have to think for them, to lay up treasures for them, by depriving himself, and wasting away by over-fatigue. No, no: when Israel shall at length enjoy the kingdom of God, each shall labor for all, and all shall enjoy the labor of each.'
'Whereas now,' said the artizan, who had complained of the injustice of the banker Jonas, 'all labor for a few, these few labor for no one, and benefit from the labor of all.'
'But for those,' replied Peter, 'our master of Nazareth hath said: 'The son of man shall send his angels, who shall gather together and carry out of his kingdom all who are scandalous, and who commit iniquity; these shall be thrown into a fiery furnace, where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'
'And it will be justice,' said Oliba the courtezan; 'is it not they who force us to sell our bodies to escape the gnashing of teeth caused by hunger?'
'Is it not they who force mothers to make a traffic of their daughters rather than see them die of misery?' said another courtezan.
'Oh! when will the day of justice come?'
'It comes, it approaches,' replied Peter in a loud voice; 'for evil, and iniquity and violence are everywhere; not only here in Juda, but throughout the whole world, which is the Roman world. Oh! the woes of Israel are nothing; no, nothing in comparison to the woes that afflict the nations, her sisters! The whole universe groans and bleeds beneath the triple yoke of Roman ferocity, debauchery, and cupidity! From one end of the earth tothe other, from Syria to oppressed Gaul, we hear nothing but the clank of chains and the groans of the slaves crushed with labor; unhappy amongst the unhappy! they sweat blood from every pore! More to be pitied than the wild beast dying in his den, or the beast of burthen dying on his litter; these slaves are tortured, are killed, or given at pleasure to the teeth of wild beasts! Do valiant peoples like the Gauls seek to break their chains, they are drowned in their own blood; and I, I speak the truth to you, in the name of Jesus, our master; yes, I tell you the truth, this cannot last.'
'No, no!' exclaimed several voices; 'no, this cannot endure!'
'Our master is grieved,' continued the disciple; 'oh! grieved to the death in thinking of the horrible miseries, the vengeances, and fearful reprisals which so many ages of oppression and iniquity will let loose upon the earth. The day before yesterday, at Bethlehem, our master said to us:
"When you hear of sedition and wars, be not alarmed; these things must arrive first, but their end will not come so soon."
'Listen,' said several voices, 'listen.'
"We shall see," added Jesus, "people rise against people, kingdom against kingdom; so shall men pine away with fear in the expectation of all that is to happen in the universe, for the virtues of heaven shall be shaken."
A sullen murmur of fear circulated through the crowd at these prophecies of Jesus of Nazareth recounted by Peter, and several voices exclaimed:—
'Mighty storms, then, will burst forth in heaven.'
'So much the better; these clouds of iniquity must burst, that the heavens may be cleared and the eternal sun be resplendent.'
'And if they gnash their teeth on earth before grinding them in eternal fire, these rich, these high priests, these crowned king Pharaoh's, they have brought it on themselves,' exclaimed Banaias; 'they have brought it on themselves.'
'Yes, yes, it's true.'
'Oh!' continued Banaias, 'this is not the first time the prophets have shouted in their ears!
'Amend your lives! be good! be just! be merciful! Look down at your feet instead of admiring yourselves in your pride! What! reptiles that you are, you reject from your plates the most delicate meats!
'You fall down gorged with wine; next your cups filled to the very brims; you ask yourselves, shall I put on to-day my furred robe with the gold embroidery, or my robe of plush, embroidered with silver? And your neighbor, shivering with cold beneath his rags, cannot simply taste from your cup, or lick up the crumbs of your feasts? By the entrails of Jeremiah, can it endure for any length of time?'
'Yes, yes,' cried several voices, 'this has lasted long enough—the most patient weary toward the end!'
'The quietest bullock finishes by turning against the spur!'
'And what spur is there like hunger?'
'Yes,' continued Peter, 'yes, this has endured long enough; yes, it has endured too long; therefore, Jesus, our master, hath said:
"The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor—he hath sent me to heal the broken hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind; to preach the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day when he shall avenge himself on his enemies."
These words of the Nazarene, quoted by Peter, excited a fresh enthusiasm, and Genevieve heard one of the two secret emissaries of the law and the high-priests say to his companion:
'This time the Nazarene shall not escape us, such words are really too seditious and outrageous!'
But a new and loud rumor was soon heard outside the tavern of the 'Wild Ass,' and there was but one cry repeated by all:
'‘Tis he, ‘tis he!'
'‘Tis our friend!'
'Here is Jesus, here he is!'
The crowd that filled the tavern, now learning the arrival of Jesus of Nazareth, urged and pressed each other to go and meet the young master; mothers, who held their little infants in their arms, endeavored to arrive the first near Jesus, the infirm, resuming their crutches, begged their neighbors to open a passage for them. Such was already the penetrating and charitable influence of the words of the son of Mary, that the strong moved aside to allow the mothers and the suffering to approach him.
Jane, Aurelia and her slave shared the general emotion; Genevieve especially, daughter, wife, and, perhaps, one day a mother of slaves, experienced an unusual beating of the heart at the sight of him who came, he said, to announce to the captives their deliverance, and set at liberty those who were crushed beneath their chains. At length Genevieve perceived him.
The son of Mary, the friend of little children, of poor mothers, of the suffering and of slaves, was habited like the other Israelites, his countrymen; he wore a robe of white cloth, secured round his waist by a leathern belt from which hung his purse or money-bag; a square mantle of blue depended from his shoulders.
His long chestnut hair, bright as new-coined gold, fell on each side of his pale face of an angelic sweetness; his lips and chin were half shaded by a slight beard, with golden reflections like his hair. His manner was cordial and familiar; he affectionately shook the hands of all that were tendered him.
He frequently stooped down to kiss some ragged little children who held the lappets of his robe, and, smiling ineffably, he said to those who surrounded him:
'Let the little children approach me.'
Judas, a man with a sinister and deceptive countenance, and Simon, other disciples of Jesus, accompanied him and carried each of them a box, in which the son of Mary, after questioning each patient and attentively listening to his reply, took several medicaments which he gave to the infirm and to the women who came to consult his science, either for themselves or for their children.
Frequently, to the balsams and advice he distributed, Jesus added a gift of money, which he drew from the bag at his girdle; he so often dipped into this purse, that having a last time plunged in his hand, he smiled mournfully on finding the little pocket empty. So, after turning all manner of ways, he made a sign of touching regret, as if to show that he had nothing to give. Then, those whom he had assisted with his counsels, his balms, and his money, thanked him warmly; he said to them in his gentle voice:
'‘Tis Almighty God, the Father of us all, who is in Heaven, that you must thank, and not me—peace be with you.'
'If your treasury of money is empty, friend, you have still an inexhaustible treasure, that of good words,' said Banaias; for he had contrived to approach quite close to Jesus of Nazareth, and he contemplated him with a mixture of respect and emotion that made his ferocious traits forgotten.
'Yes,' replied another; 'tell us, Jesus, of things which we poor and humble can comprehend, the language of our holy and divine prophet, but often obscure to us poor people.'
'Oh, yes; our good Jesus,' added a pretty child, who had glided into the front rank, and held one flap of the robe of the young man of Nazareth, 'recount to us one of those parables that delight us so much, and which we repeat to our mothers and brothers.'
'No, no,' said other voices; 'before the parable, make one of your noble discourses against the wicked rich, the powerful and the proud.'
But Mary's son pointed with a smile to the little child who had first demanded a parable, and took him on his knees, after seating himself near a table; thus showing his love for infancy. Mary's son seemed to say that this dear little one should be first satisfied in his desire. All, then, grouped round Jesus; the children who loved him so sat down at his feet; Oliba and other courtezans also seated themselves on the ground in the Eastern fashion, embracing their knees with their hands, and their eyes fixed on the young man of Nazareth, in anxious expectation. Banaias, and several of his like, crowding behind the young man, recommended silence to the eager multitude. Others, lastly, more distant, such as Jane, Aurelia, and her slave Genevieve, formed a second rank by mounting on the benches. Jesus, still holding on his knee the little child, who with one of his tiny arms resting on the shoulder of the son of Mary, seemed suspended from his lips, commenced the following parable: 'A man had two sons, and the younger of them said to his father:'Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me.' And the father divided his goods. A short time after, the youngest of the sons gathered together all he had and went into a distant country and dissipated his portion. And after he had spent all, a great famine arose in the land, and he began to be in want. He therefore went into service with an inhabitant of the country, who sent him into the fields to feed swine. There he would willingly have filled his belly with the husks the swine did eat, but no man gave unto him.'
At these words of the parable the child which Mary's son held upon his knees uttered a deep sigh, joining his little hands in a pitying manner. Jesus continued:
'At length returning to himself, the prodigal son said, "How many servants of my father have bread enough and to spare, and I perish of hunger? I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him: father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants." And he arose and went to his father; but when he was yet a great way off, his father perceived him, and moved with compassion, he ran to him and fell on his neck and kissed him.
'And his son said to him: "My father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, I am no more worthy to be called thy son."
'But the father said to his servants:
"Bring forth the best robe and put it on him; and put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet; and bring hither the fatted calf and kill it; and let us eat and bemerry; for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found."
'Oh! the kind father!' said the child on the knees of Jesus. 'Oh! the good and tender father, who pardons and embraces instead of scolding!'
Jesus smiled, kissed the child's forehead, and continued:
'And they began to be merry. But the elder brother, who was in the field returned, and when he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. He therefore called one of the servants, and asked what all this meant. The servant replied to him:
"Thy brother is come, and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath found him safe and sound;" which made the elder brother angry, and he would not go in; therefore his father came out and entreated him. But his son replied to him: "These many years have I served thee, neither have I at any time transgressed thy command; and yet thou never gavest me a kid that I might make merry with my friends. But as soon as this, thy son, who has squandered his living with harlots, is returned, thou hast had the fatted calf killed for him."'
'Oh! how wicked is the eldest son!' said the child; 'he is jealous of his poor brother, who returns, however, very unhappy to the house. God will not love this jealous son; will he, my good Jesus?'
Mary's son shook his head, as if to reply to the child that the Lord did not indeed love the jealous: he then continued,—
'But the father said to the son: "My son, thou art always with me, and all that I have is thine; it was fitthat we should make merry and be glad; for this, thy brother, was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found."'
All who were present seemed moved to tears at this recital. Mary's son having stopped to drink a glass of wine, which Judas, his disciple, poured out for him, Banaias, who had listened to him with profound attention, exclaimed: 'Friend, do you know that this is very much my own history, and that of many others. For if, after my own first folly of youth, my father had imitated the father in your parable, and had tendered me his hand as a sign of pardon, instead of driving me from the house with his stick, I should be at this hour, perhaps, seated at my honest fireside, in the midst of my family; whereas, now my home is in the highway, misery my wife, and my children evil projects, sons of misery, that mother with the ferocious eye. Ah! why had I not for a father the man in the parable?'
'This indulgent father pardoned,' replied Oliba the courtezan, 'because he knew that God, having given youth to his creatures, sometimes abuse it; but those who, reviled, miserable and repentant, return humbly to demand the smallest place in the paternal mansion, these, far from being repulsed, ought they not to be received with pity?'
'I,' said another, 'would not give a grapestone for this elder brother, this man of wealth, so harsh, so coarse, and so jealous, to whom virtue costs nothing.'
Genevieve heard one of the two emissaries of the Pharisees say to his companion, 'The Nazarene pretty well flatters the bad passions of these vagabonds. Henceforth, every debauched idler who may quit the paternal mansionwill think himself entitled to send his father to Beelzebub, if the father, wrongly advised, instead of killing the fatted calf, drives from him, as he ought, this villainous son, whom hunger alone brings back to the fold.'
'Yes; and all the honest and prudent will pass for men of hard heart and jealous.'
And the man resumed aloud, thinking that no one would know who it was that thus spoke: 'Glory to thee, Jesus of Nazareth, glory to thee, the protector, the defender of us dissipaters and prostitutes! It is folly to be wise and virtuous, since the fatted calf is to be killed for the most debauched.'
Loud murmurs acknowledged these words of the emissary of the Pharisees; all turned round whence they had been pronounced; threats were heard:
'Hence! away with these men of inexorable heart!'
'Oh! these men are without pity, without mercy, repentance does not touch them,' said the courtezan Oliba; 'these frozen bodies who cannot comprehend that with others the blood boils!'
'Let him who has thus spoken show himself,' exclaimed Banaias, striking the table with his heavy, knotted stick in a threatening manner, 'yes, let him show his virtuous face, the scrupulous! more severe than our friend of Nazareth, the brother of the poor, the afflicted, and the suffering, whom he supports, heals and consoles! By the eye of Jerobabel! I should like to look him in the face, this white lamb without spot, who comes here to bleat his virtues. Where is he, then, this immaculate lily of the valley of men? He must smell of good, like a real balm,' added Banaias, opening his wide nostrils; 'and bythe nose of Malachi! I don't smell at all this aroma of wisdom, this perfume of honesty, which ought to betray the choice odoriferous vase hidden amongst us poor sinners.'
This pleasantry of Banaias made the auditory laugh excessively; and the one of the two emissaries who had thus attacked the words of Jesus, seemed in no hurry to gratify the desire of the redoubtable friend of the Nazarene; he feigned, on the contrary, as well as his companion, to search, like the rest of the audience, from whence the words had proceeded. The tumult was increasing, when the young Nazarene made a sign that he wished to speak; the tempest was appeased as if by enchantment; and replying to the reproach of being too indulgent to sinners, Jesus said with an accent of severe mildness: 'Who amongst you possessing a hundred sheep, and losing one, would not leave in the plain the ninety-and-nine others, to go and seek that which is lost, until he had found it? When he has found it he brings it back with joy on his shoulders; and having returned to his house, he assembles his friends and neighbors, and says to them, "Rejoice with me, because I have found my sheep that was lost."'
'And I say unto you,' added Mary's son in a voice filled with grave and tender authority, 'and I say unto you there shall be more joy in heaven for one sinner that repenteth, than for the ninety-and-nine just men, who need no repentance.'—These touching words of Jesus made a lively impression on the crowd; it applauded in words and gestures.—'Reply to that, my white lamb! my lilly without a stain!' said Banaias, addressing the invisible interpreter of the Nazarene.
'If you are not of the same opinion as my friend, approach and maintain your words.'
'A grand merit, as Jesus says,' observed another; 'a grand merit for him who has neither hunger nor thirst, to be neither a glutton nor a drunkard!'
'Virtue is easy to her who has every thing,' said the courtezan Oliba, 'hunger and privation ruin more women than dissipation.'
Suddenly there was a tumult amongst the crowd that filled the tavern, and the name of Magdalen was heard pronounced.
'She is one of the creatures who make a traffic of their bodies,' said Jane to Aurelia; 'it is not misery that has thrown her, like so many others, into this degradation; but a first fault, followed by the desertion of him who seduced her, and whom she adored. Since then, despite the disorders of her life and the venality of her amours, Magdalen has proved that her heart is not entirely corrupted. The poor never beseech her in vain, and she has passionately loved some men with a love as devoted as it was disinterested, sacrificing to them high priests, doctors of the law and rich seigneurs, who rivalled each other in their gifts; my husband, with others, was amongst the number of these magnificent lovers.'
'He has expended upon Magdalen a great deal of money; she is so handsome,' continued the young woman, with an indulgent smile. 'He is one of those who have enriched her. They tell wonders about her house, or rather the palace she inhabits; her coffers are filled with the rarest stuffs and the most dazzling jewels. Vases of gold and silver, brought at great expense from Rome, Asia,and Greece, encumber her sideboards; the purple and silk from Tyre adorn the walls of her dwelling, and her attendants are as numerous as those of a princess.'
'We, too, have in Italy and Roman Gaul, some of these creatures, whose insolent luxury insults the moderate fortune of many honest women,' replied Aurelia. 'But what can this Magdalen want with the young Nazarene?'
'No doubt she comes, like many of the same sort whom you see here, less rich than her, but not less degraded, to hear the words of Jesus; those gentle and tender words that penetrate the heart by the mercy they breathe, softens it, and makes it bring forth repentance.'
'Here!' said several voices: 'room for Magdalen, the handsomest amongst the handsomest!'
'The queen of us all!' said Oliba's companion to her with a lofty air: 'for indeed Magdalen is the queen of us all!'
'A sad royalty!' replied Oliba, sighing: 'her shame is seen from the highest to the most distant!'
'But she is so rich! so rich!'
'To sell oneself for a penny, or a mountain of gold,' replied the poor courtezan, 'where is the difference? the ignominy is the same!'
'Oliba, you are getting completely mad!'
The young woman made no reply, but sighed. Genevieve, mounted, like her mistress, on a stool, raised herself on the points of her toes, and soon saw the celebrated courtezan enter the tavern.
Magdalen was possessed of a rare beauty; the chin-piece of her turban of white silk edged with gold, encased her pale and swarthy face of an admirable perfection; her longeye-brows, as black as ebony, like the bands of her hair, appeared as a dark line along the brow hitherto superb and brazen; but now, mournful and depressed, for she seemed completely heart-broken. The ends of her eye-lashes, stained with a blue color according to the oriental fashion, gave to her eyes, drowned in tears, something strange, and seemed to double the grandeur of her orbs, sparkling through her tears like two diamonds.
A long robe of Tyrian silk of shaded blue, edged with gold and embroidered with pearls, fell in a long train behind her, and round her waist she had a flowing scarf of cloth of gold covered with stones of many colors, like those of the double necklaces, ear-rings and bracelets, with which her bare and well-shaped arms were covered; and thus attired, holding in her hands an urn of pink alabaster from Chaldea, more precious than gold, she advanced quite slowly towards the young man of Nazareth.
'What a change in Magdalen's traits,' said Jane to Aurelia. 'I have seen her pass a hundred times in her litter, carried by her attendants, dressed in rich liveries; the triumph of beauty, and the intoxication and joy of youth could be read in her countenance. And she is timidly approaching Jesus, humble, oppressed, weeping, and more sorrowful than the saddest of the poor women who hold in their arms their ill-clad infants.'
'But what is she about?' inquired Aurelia, more and more attentive; 'she stands before the young man of Nazareth; in one hand she holds her alabaster urn pressed against her agitated bosom, whilst with the other she detaches her rich turban. She throws it far from her. Her thick and glossy tresses fall over her breast and shoulders,unroll themselves like a velvet mantle and even trail on the ground.'
'Oh! look! look! her tears redouble,' said Jane; 'her face is drowned in them.'
'She kneels at the feet of Jesus,' continued Aurelia, 'and covers them with tears and kisses.'
'What heart-rending sobs!'
'And the tears she sheds on the feet of Mary's son she wipes away with her long hair.'
'And now, still melting in tears, she takes her alabaster urn and empties over the feet of Jesus a delicious perfume, the scent of which reaches here.'
'The young master endeavors to raise her; she resists; she cannot speak; her sobs break her voice; she bends down her lovely head to the very ground.'
Then Jesus, who could scarcely restrain his emotion, turned towards Simon, one of his disciples, and addressing him: 'Simon, I have something to say to you.'
'Speak, master.'
'A creditor had two debtors; the one owned him five hundred pence, the other fifty. As they had not wherewith to pay him, he remitted to both their debt; tell me, then, which of these two should love him most?' Simon replied: 'Master, I think it should be he to whom he forgave the most.'
'Thou hast judged rightly, Simon.' And, turning to the rich courtezan still kneeling, Jesus said to those present: 'Do you see this woman? I declare to you that her many sins are forgiven her, because she loved much!' He then said to Magdalen, in a voice full of tendernessand pardon: 'Thy sins are forgiven thee—thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.'
'Abomination of desolation!' said the emissary of the pharisees half aloud to his companion: 'can audacity and demoralization go further? Why, the Nazarene pardons all that is blameable, relieves all that is vile; after reinstating dissipation and prodigality, behold him now reinstating the most notorious courtezans.'
'And why?' said the other emissary, 'that he may still flatter the vices and detestable passions of the wretches he draws round him, whom he will one day make his instruments.'
'But patience,' observed the first, 'patience, Nazarene, thy hour approaches; thy still increasing audacity will soon draw down upon thee a terrible punishment!'
Whilst Genevieve listened to the two wicked men thus conversing, she saw Magdalen, after the affectionate words of Jesus, rise up radiant; the tears chased each other down her handsome face, but these tears no longer seemed bitter. She distributed to all the poor women who surrounded her, her precious stones and jewels, unfastened even to the magnificent robe she wore over her tunic of fine cloth from Sidonia, and put on the mantel of coarse brown wool of a young woman to whom she gave in exchange a rich robe embroidered with pearls of great value. She then said to Simon, that she would not again quit these humble garments, and that on the morrow all her wealth should be distributed to poor families, and to the courtezans whom misery alone prevented returning to a better life.
At these words Oliba, joining her hands in a burst of gratitude, threw herself at the feet of Magdalen, took her hands, kissed them whilst sobbing and said to her—
'Blessed be thou, Magdalen! oh, blessed be thou! Thy bounty hath saved me, me and so many of my poor companions of shame; but we repented at the voice of the son of Mary; that voice penetrated our hearts; we hoped for pardon. But, alas! the necessity of living retained us in wickedness and contempt. Blessed be thou, Magdalen, thou who renderest possible our return to good.'
'Sister, it is not I you must bless,' replied Magdalen; '‘tis Jesus of Nazareth; his words inspired me.'
And Magdalen mingled amongst the crowd to listen to the words of the young master.
Some of his disciples having said in speaking to him of Magdalen, that she had been seduced and then abandoned by a young doctor of the law, the figure of Jesus became grave, severe, and almost menacing, and he exclaimed——
'Woe to you, doctors of the law! Woe to you, hypocrites! You are like unto whitened sepulchres; the outside appears gay, but within all is bones and putridity. Thus, outwardly you appear just in the eyes of men, but inwardly you are full of iniquity and hypocrisy. Woe to you blind leaders who take great care as to what you drink, lest you should swallow a camel.'
This familiar satire made several of the auditory smile, and Banaias exclaimed——
'Oh, but you are right, my friend. How many of these swallowers of camels we know. But such is the sharpness of their conscience that they digest these camels as the ostrich digests a stone, and nothing appears of it.'
Fresh bursts of applause replied to the pleasantry of Banaias, and Jesus resumed:
'Woe to you, Pharisees! woe to you who cleanse the outside of the cup while within it is all rapine and impurity.'
'It is true,' replied several voices; 'these hypocrites clean the outside because the outside alone is seen.'
The son of Mary continued:
'Woe to you, Pharisees! who preach what you ought to do, but do it not! Woe to you who make heavy and insupportable burthens, place them on the shoulders of men, but will not touch them with your finger.'
This new comparison struck the mind of the auditors of the young master, and several voices again exclaimed:
'Yes, yes, these idle hypocrites say to the humble, "Work is holy; work, work, but we will not work. Yes, bear alone the burthen of the labor, but we rich will not touch it with the end of our finger."'
Jesus continued:—
'Woe to you who do all your actions that you might be seen of men. It is for this that you carry long bands of parchment, on which are written the words of the law, which you do not practice. Woe to you who say, "If a man swears by the temple it is nothing, but if he swears by the gold of the Temple, he is bound by his oath."'
'Because for these rich wicked ones,' said a voice, 'nothing is sound but gold. They swear by their gold as others swear by their soul or by their honor.'
'So that if a man swears by the altar it is nothing,' pursued Jesus; 'but whoever swears by the offering that is on the altar, he is bound by his oath. Woe to you, hypocrites! who pay scrupulously the tenth, but who deny that whichis more important in the law, justice, mercy, and good faith. These were the things you should practice, without omitting the others.'
'By the two thumbs of Methusalem!' exclaimed Banaias, laughing, 'you appear at ease, friend. As these hypocrites have in their coffers enough to pay the tithe without inconveniencing themselves, and they pay it; but where would you have them find this money of justice, of good faith, and of mercy, which you demand from these whitened sepulchres, from these swallowers of camels of iniquity, as you will so call them?'
'Alas! the young master says true,' observed another; 'for him who has no money justice is deaf. The doctors of the law do not say to you at their court, "What good grounds have you? but, how much money will you promise me?"'
'I had confided a few savings to Jonas, a high priest,' said a poor old woman; 'he told me he had expended the money in offerings for my salvation. What could I do, a poor woman against so powerful a seigneur? resign myself and beg for bread, which I do not find every day.'
At this complaint, Jesus exclaimed with increased indignation, 'Oh! woe to you hypocrites: because, under pretence of your long prayers you rob the widow of her mite. Woe to you, serpents, race of vipers! how will you escape being condemned to the fire of hell? It is for this I will send to you prophets and sages to save you.'
'But, alas!' added the son of Mary with an accent of much sorrow, 'you will kill the former; you would crucify the latter; you would persecute them from town to town, that all the innocent blood that has been shed upon theearth may return upon you—from the blood of Abel the just to the blood of Zachariah, whom you killed between the Temple and the altar!'
'Oh! fear nothing, friend! if these swallowers of camels wish to shed your blood,' exclaimed Banaias, striking the hilt of his large rusty cutlass, 'they must first shed ours, and we await them.'
'Yes, yes,' replied the crowd, in one voice, 'fear nothing, Jesus of Nazareth, we will defend thee!'
'We will die for thee if necessary!'
'You shall be our chief!'
'Our king!'
But the son of Mary, as if he mistrusted these transports, shook his head with a sadness more and more profound; tears streamed down his cheek, and he exclaimed, in a disconsolate voice:
'Oh! Jerusalem! Jerusalem! thou who killed the prophets! thou who stone the wise men that are sent to thee! how often have I striven to assemble thy children, as a hen gathers together her little ones beneath her wings, and thou would'st not; no, thou would'st not!'
And the accent of Jesus, at first cutting, severe, or indignant, in speaking of the hypocritical pharisees, was impressed with a regret so bitter, in pronouncing these last words, that nearly all shed tears like the young man of Nazareth; presently there was a complete silence, for he was seen to lean upon the table and bury his face in his hands. Genevieve could no longer restrain her tears; she heard one of the two emissaries say to his companion, in a tone of cruel triumph: 'The Nazarene called the doctors of law and the high-priest serpents and a race ofvipers! During the whole night he has blasphemed all that is most sacred amongst men; we have him.'
'Oh, you speak of the crucified, Jesus of Nazareth,' said the other; 'we will take care that you shall not be far wrong, prophet of woe!'
Simon, seeing him still leaning on the table, weeping in silence, stooped towards him and said: 'Master, the sun will soon rise; the people of the fields, who bring their fruits to the market of Jerusalem, pass by the valley of Cedron; like us, they are eager to hear your words: they await you on the road: shall we not go and meet them?'
Jesus rose; his sad and pensive features cleared up on kissing the children, who seeing him preparing to leave, extended their little hands to him.—He then fraternally shook hands with all who offered them, and leaving the tavern of the 'Wild Ass' situated near one of the gates of the town leading into the country, he directed his steps towards the valley of Cedron, which the countrymen and women traversed to repair to Jerusalem, where they brought their provisions. Such was the attraction of the words of the young man of Nazareth, that most of the persons who came to pass the night in listening to him, still followed him. Magdalen, Oliba and Banaias were amongst these individuals.
'Jane, will you also go out of the town?' said Aurelia to Chusa's wife: 'it is now daylight; let us return home; it will be imprudent to prolong our absence.'
'I shall not return yet; I will follow Jesus to the end of the world,' replied Jane with exultation, and descending from her bench, she drew from her pocket a heavy purse filled with gold, which she placed in Simon's hand, at themoment he was about to quit the tavern after Mary's son.
'The young man has emptied his purse to-night,' said Jane to Simon, 'here is something to re-fill it.'
'You, lady, again!' replied Simon with thankfulness, at the sight of Jane: 'your charity does not flag.'
'‘Tis the tenderness of your master that does not flag in succoring people, consoling the poor, the repentant, and the oppressed,' replied the wife of Chusa.
Genevieve, who had anxiously listened to every word that had fallen from the emissaries of the pharisees, heard one of the two men say to the other:
'Follow and watch the Nazarene; I will run to the Seigneurs Caiphus and Baruch to render them an account of the abominable blasphemies and impieties he has uttered to-night in company with these vagabonds. The Nazarene must not this time escape the fate that awaits him;' and the two men separated. Aurelia, who seemed to have been reflecting, said to her companion: 'Jane, I cannot express to you what I experience from the words of this young man. At one time so simple, tender and elevated, at another satirical and threatening, they penetrate my heart. They are, to my mind, like a new world that is opening; for to us, poor heathens, the word charity is new. Far from being appeased, my curiosity, my interest, increase, and whatever may happen, I will follow you; what matter, after all, if we do return to our dwellings after daybreak?'
Hearing her mistress thus speak, Genevieve was very happy, for thinking of her brother slaves of Gaul, she, too, felt a great desire to hear more of the words of the young Nazarene, the friend and liberator of captives. At themoment of quitting the tavern with her mistress and the charitable wife of the seigneur Chusa, Genevieve was the witness of a scene that proved to her how speedily the word of Jesus had borne its fruit. Magdalen, the handsome, repentant courtezan, habited in the old woollen mantle of a poor woman, exchanged for such rich attire, Magdalen, following the anxious crowd behind Jesus, struck her foot against a stone in the street, tottered, and would have fallen to the ground but for the assistance of Jane and Aurelia, who, fortunately, being close to her, hastened to support her.
'What! you, Jane, the wife of the Seigneur Chusa?' said the courtezan, reddening with confusion, thinking, no doubt, of the rich presents she had received from Chusa: 'you, Jane, you have no fear in tendering me a helping hand; I, a poor creature justly despised by all honest women?'
'Magdalen,' replied Jane with charming kindness: 'did not our young master tell you to go in peace, and that all your sins would be remitted you, because you have loved much? By what right should I be more severe than Jesus of Nazareth? Your hand, Magdalen, your hand; ‘tis a sister who asks it of you as a sign of pardon and oblivion of the past!'
Magdalen took the hand that Jane offered her, but it was to kiss it with respect, and cover it with tears of repentance.
'Ah! Jane,' said quietly to her friend Genevieve's mistress; 'the young man of Nazareth would be gratified to see you practice his precepts so generously.'
Jane, Aurelia and Magdalen, following the crowd, were soon outside of the gates of Jerusalem.
The sun, now rising in its splendor, illumined to a great distance the country of the valley of Cedron, whose oriental aspect, so new to Genevieve, always struck her with surprise and admiration. It being the season of spring, early this year, the plains which extended to the gates of Jerusalem were as verdant and as florid as those of Saron, which Genevieve had traversed when coming from Jaffa (the place where she had landed) to reach Jerusalem with her mistress. The white and red roses, the narcissus, the anemony, the yellow gilly-flowers, and the odiferous immortelles (or everlasting flowers) embalmed the air and enamelled the fields with their beautiful colors, still moist with the dew.
On the road-side, a cluster of palm trees shaded the dome of a fountain, where already came to drink the large fat buffaloes, coupled to their yoke, and conducted by laborers habited in a robe of camel skin.
Shepherds also brought to the fountain their flocks of goats with long ears, and sheep with immense tails, whilst young women of swarthy complexion, dressed in white, arrived no doubt from a village seen at a short distance, half hidden by a wood of olive trees, drew water from the fountain and returned to the village, carrying on their head, half enveloped in their white veils, large flasks of spring water. Farther on, along the dusky road which serpentined in a descent from the highest peaks of the mountains, whose summits were slowly disengaging themselves from the gray blue vapors of the morning, was seenadvancing, at a snail's pace, a long caravan, which rose above the elongated necks of the camels loaded with bales.
All along the road, followed by Genevieve, blue pigeons, larks and wagtails, nesting in the groves of nopal and fir, made a chorus of sweet songs, whilst a white stork, with red legs, rose in the air holding a snake in his beak.
Several herdsmen and laborers, learning from the persons who followed the Nazarene, that he was repairing to the little hill of Cedron to preach good news, changed their route, and driving their flocks on one side, augmented the crowd attached to the steps of Jesus of Nazareth. Jane, Aurelia and Genevieve thus approached the village, half hidden in the wood of olive trees through which they had to pass to arrive at the hill. On a sudden from this wood, they saw issue in a tumult a great number of men and women, uttering cries and horrid imprecations.
At the head of this troop marched the doctors of the law and the high priests; two of the latter were leading a handsome young girl, with naked arms and feet, barely attired in a tunic. Shame and terror were painted on her countenance bathed in tears; her scattered hair covered her naked shoulders.
From time to time, demanding grace through her sobs, she threw herself, in her despair, on her knees upon the stones in the road, despite the efforts of the two priests, who, each holding her by an arm and thus dragging her through the dust, soon forced her to rise and walk with them. The crowd overwhelmed with hootings, imprecations and insults this unfortunate girl, as terrified as a woman being led to execution.
At sight of this tumult the son of Mary, surprised, stopped; those who accompanied him also stopped, and ranged themselves in a circle behind him.
The priests and the doctors of the law, no doubt recognizing the young man of Nazareth, made a sign to the people of the village, from whom the cries and fury redoubled every moment, to stop a few paces distant. Then those wrathful people, men and women, picked up large stones, with which they remained armed, from time to time insulting and threatening the weeping prisoner.
The priests and doctors of the law, to whom the emissaries of the pharisees had gone to speak in secret, dragged the unfortunate creature to the feet of Jesus, whom she also began to implore in her terror, raising towards him her face bathed in tears, and her maimed hands covered with blood and dust. One of the priests then said to Jesus, to prove him, and in the hope of destroying him if he did not pronounce with them.
'This woman has just been taken in the act of adultery. Now, Moses has ordered us in the law to stone the adulteress. What is your opinion thereon?'
Jesus, instead of replying, stooped down and began to write on the sand with the end of his finger. And as the pharisees, astonished, continued to question him, he rose up and said to them as also to those of the crowd, who had armed themselves with stones,
'Let him amongst you who is without sin, throw the first stone at this woman.'
Then, again stooping, he once more commenced writing on the sand without noticing those around him.
At the words of Mary's son, immense applause burst from the crowd that followed him, and Banaias exclaimed with loud laughter:
'Well spoken, friend. I am no prophet; but if pure hands are alone to stone this poor sinner, I swear by the head of Gideon that we shall see all these paragons of virtue, all these pearls of chastity, all these angels of modesty, beginning with the seigneurs priests, and the seigneurs doctors in law, throw away their sandals and tuck up their robes that they may run the quicker. Oh! what was I saying?' added Banaias, laughing still more loudly, like many others, 'there they are, dispersing like a herd of swine pursued by a wolf.'
'And swine they are!' said another.
'As to the wolf following them, ‘tis their own conscience.'
And as Banaias said, at these words of Jesus, 'Let him amongst you who is without sin throw the first stone at this woman,' the doctors of the law and the priests, no doubt accused by their conscience, as well as those who at first would have stoned the adulterous woman, all in fact fearing, perhaps, the crowd that followed the young man of Nazareth, made their escape so swiftly and so quickly, that when the son of Mary rose (for he had continued to write on the sand), the crowd lately so menacing were fleeing toward the village. Jesus now saw none but the accused, still kneeling, still a supplicant, and weeping at his feet. Smiling sweetly, showing to her the space left around her by the dispersion of those who would have lately stoned her, Jesus said to her:
'Woman, where, then, are thy accusers? Has no one accused thee?'
'No, lord,' she replied, weeping bitterly.
'Neither will I condemn thee,' said Jesus. 'Go, and sin no more.'
And leaving the adulterous woman on her knees, and still under the shock of having been thus saved from death and pardoned, the son of Mary soon arrived, followed by his disciples and the crowd, to the foot of a mount, where already were assembled a good number of country people impatiently awaiting his coming, some having their provisions on donkeys or zebras, others in carts drawn by bullocks, others in wicker baskets, which they carried on their heads.
The shepherds who, at the passage of the Nazarene, watered their flocks at the fountain, also arrived; and when all this crowd, silent and attentive, was thus assembled at the foot of the mount, Jesus of Nazareth ascended the little hill, that he might be better heard by all.
The rising sun, shedding its lustrous beams on the figure of the son of Mary, attired in his white tunic and his blue mantle, made his celestial visage to appear resplendent, and casting its rays on his long chestnut hair, seemed to encircle it in a golden aureole. Then addressing these simple in heart, whom he loved equally with the little children, Jesus said to them, in his tender and sonorous voice:
'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs!
'Blessed are those who are gentle, because they possess the earth!
'Blessed are those who weep, for they are consoled!
'Blessed are those who show mercy, for they will obtain mercy for themselves!
'Blessed are those who are pure in heart, for they will see God!
'Blessed are the peaceful, for they shall be called peaceful!
'Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice's sake, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs!
'But woe to you, rich, for you would take away your consolation!
'Woe to you who are satisfied, for you shall be hungry!
'Woe to you who laugh now, for you shall weep hereafter!
'Woe to you when men shall speak well of you, for their fathers spoke well of the false prophets!
'Love your neighbor as yourself!
'Beware how you make your gifts before men, to attract their notice!
'When, therefore, thou dost give thy charity, sound not the trumpet before you, as do the hypocrites in the temples and in the streets, to be honored by men; for I tell you the truth, they have already had their reward.
'Thus, I was seated the other day in the synagogue, opposite the poor box, observing in what manner the people threw in their money; many rich people dropped in a great deal; there came a poor woman, she placed simply in the box two small pieces, which made the quarter of a penny. Calling my disciples, I said to them: "Really this poor woman has given more than all those who dropped into the box, for all the others havegiven of their abundance; but this one has given of her indigence, all that she had, and all that remained to her to live upon." When you bestow charity, let not your left hand know what your right hand does. The same when you pray, resemble not those hypocrites who affect to pray in the synagogues, and in the corner of public places, that they might be seen of men. For you, when you would pray, enter your own chamber, close the door, and pray to your father in secret. When you fast, do it not with a saddened air like the hypocrites, for they appear with a pale and haggard face, that men may know that they fast. You, when you fast, perfume your head that it may not appear to men that you fast, but simply to your father, who is always present in all that is most secret. Above all, do not act like the two men in the parable:
'Two men went into the temple to pray, the one was a publican, the other a pharisee. The pharisee, standing up, thus prayed to himself: "My God, I thank thee for that I am not as other men, who are thieves, unjust, adulterers, who indeed are like the publican I see there. I fast twice a week, and I give the tenth of all I possess."
'The publican, on the contrary, keeping himself afar off, dared not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but struck his breast, saying:
"My God, have pity on me, who am a sinner!"
'I declare to you this man returneth home justified, and not the other. For he who exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he who humbleth himself shall be exalted. Heap not up treasures on earth, for the worm and the rust shall consume them, and thieves shall break in and steal them; but make to yourselves treasures in heaven, forwhere your treasure is there also will be your heart! Do unto men as you would they should do unto you: this is the law and the prophets.
'Love your enemies, do good to those that hate you.
'If any one takes from you your mantle, let him also take your coat.
'Give to all who ask of you.
'Claim not your goods of him who takes them away.
'Let him who has two garments give one to him who has none.
'Let him who has enough to eat do the same.
'For when the day of judgment comes, God will say to those who are on his left:
"Far from me, cursed! go into the fire eternal! for I was hungry and ye gave me not to eat! I was thirsty, and ye gave me not to drink! I was in want of lodging, and you did not lodge me! I was without garments, and you did not clothe me! I was sick and in prison, and you did not visit me!" And then the wicked will reply to the Almighty:
"Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty? or without garments? or without lodging? or in prison?"
But the Almighty will reply to them:
"I say unto you that as often as you have failed to render these services to one of the poorest among men, you have failed to render them to myself, your Lord God."
To the great chagrin of the crowd, much affected by the divine words of the son of Mary, who could comprehend the poorest in mind, as the young Nazarene said, his discourse was interrupted in consequence of a violent tumult that arose. The cause was this; a troop of men on horseback,coming from the mountains, travelling rapidly towards Jerusalem, was obliged to stop before the vast assemblage grouped at the base of the mount where Christ was preaching. These cavaliers, in their impatience, brutally desired the crowd to disperse, and to make room for the Seigneur Chusa, the steward of Prince Herod's household, and for the Seigneur Gremion, an agent of the Roman treasury.
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.'
At this moment, Magdalen the repentant, approached the two young women, and said to Jane, with tears in her eyes:
'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.
They abhorred Herod, the prince of Judea, who would have been driven from the throne but for the protection of the Romans. He was cruel, dissolute, and crushed the Jewish people with taxes; thus, when they learnt that one of the cavaliers was the Seigneur Chusa, steward of this execrated prince, the hatred they felt for the master was visited on the steward as also on his companion, the Seigneur Gremion, who in the name of the Roman tax-gatherer, gleaned where Herod had reaped. Thus, whilst Jane, Aurelia, and the slave Genevieve painfully traversed the crowd to reach the two cavaliers, hootings burst from all sides against Chusa and Gremion, and they listened, trembling with rage, to words such as the following, thefaint echo of the anathemas of the young master against the wicked:
'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!
'Woe to you! for instead of pardoning misery you overwhelm with miseries people without defence! Woe to you, but happiness to us, for the day of justice approaches, theyoung man of Nazareth has said so. Yes, yes, for you wicked and oppressors, there will soon be weeping and gnashing of teeth, and then the last shall be first, and the first shall be last.'
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—
'In verity, I say unto you, if these men have sinned, can they not repent between this and the day of judgment? Let them sin no more but go in peace.'
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.'
It was thus arranged, and they then pursued their way to Jerusalem. The horseman, who carried Genevieve behind,following close upon Gremion and Chusa, the slave heard the latter harshly scolding their wives.
'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.'
'What think you of such audacity?' exclaimed Chusa, addressing Gremion. 'You heard my wife? Will it not be now said that we cannot go along the roads but with the permission of the Nazarene, of that son of Beelzebub!and that if we escaped the fury of those wretches, 'twas owing to the promise he made them that we should sin no more. By the pillars of the temple! is this impudence enough?'
'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.'
'Kill him!' said Jane, 'he will pardon you, and pray to God for you.' It was thus that Jane, Aurelia, and Genevieve were brought back to Jerusalem.
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.
Brought up in the druidical faith, which her mother had transmitted to her, as we may say, with her life, Genevieve had not the less confidence in the precepts of Mary's son, though he professed another religion than that of the druids, always prescribed, and venerated in Gaul, besides, Jesus believed, it was said, with the druids, that on leaving this world we should live again in the spirit and in the body; since, according to his religion, he spoke of the resurrection of the dead. Lastly, despite the sublimity of the druidical faith, which relieves man from the fear of death, by teaching him that there is no death, Genevievecould not find in the precepts of the Gallic religion that tender, paternal, and merciful sentiment, with which the words of Jesus were so often impressed. The slave was giving way to these reflections, when she saw the door of the cellar open where she was confined. Gremion, her master, returned, accompanied by two men; one held a bundle of cords, the other a leather scourge. Genevieve had never seen these men; they wore foreign garments.—Seigneur Gremion descended the first steps of the staircase, and said to Genevieve: 'Undress yourself!' The slave looked at her master with as much surprise as fear, scarcely believing what she had heard. He continued: 'Undress yourself, otherwise these men, the assistants of the town executioner, shall tear off your clothes, to flog you as you deserve!'
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.'
Genevieve was at that time scarcely twenty-three, and her husband, Fergan, had told her sometimes that she was pretty. She was, despite her tears, her prayers, and powerless resistance, stripped of her garments, bound to one of the pillars of the room, and presently her body was wealed with the lashes of the whip. She had at first hopedthat shame and horror would deprive her of all consciousness. It was not so; but she forgot the pain of the lashes, on finding herself a prey to the curiosity of her tormentors, and on hearing the infamous jests they exchanged whilst flogging her. Gremion, standing up with his arms crossed, said, laughing diabolically: 'Did the Nazarene, the famous Messiah, who dabbles in prophesying, predict to you what would happen, Genevieve? Think you he was right in proclaiming the slave to be equal with his master? By Jupiter! I now regret I did not have you flogged in the middle of the public place. 'Twould have been a good lesson given on your back to these brigands who believe in the seditious insolences of their chief and friend, Jesus.'
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.
During the long hours she passed alone, with the remembrance of her shame, she made to herself an oath, that if ever the gods willed that she should be a mother, and that she could keep her child with her, she would strive to inspire in him a horror of slavery, and a hatredto the Romans, instead of allowing to degenerate in his young mind these proud resentments, as they had degenerated in her husband, Fergan, whom she loved so, despite the weakness of his character, he who had descended, nevertheless, from the powerful and untameable race of Joel, the brenn of the haughty tribe of Karnak.
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.
'He has refused me: I have entreated him to allow me to see you; he was deaf to my prayers; besides, he always carries the keys of the prison about him.'