CHAPTER V.

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:

'Aurelia! Aurelia!'

'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.'

Genevieve, after looking down into the street from the elevation where

she had crept, saw that she would have to jump twice her own length; she

hesitated a moment, but hearing the Seigneur Gremion say to his wife,

whom he had brutally shook by the arm to make her abandon the chain of

the door to which she had clung:

'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.

The slave, fearing that they were sent by the pharisees to seize the

Nazarene, commenced running in the hope of getting before them, perhaps,

and in time to give the alarm to Jesus, or to his disciples. She was

but a short distance from these armed men, whom she recognized as the

Jerusalem militia, but little renowned for their courage, when by the

glare of the torches they carried she noticed, away from the road but

following the same direction, a narrow path bordered with firs. She took

this road that she might not be seen by the soldiers, at the head of

whom she observed Judas, the disciple of the young man whom she had seen

at the tavern of the Wild Ass one of the preceding nights. He was then

saying to the officer of the men, who commanded the escort:

'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.'

The soldiers did not appear greatly reassured by these words of their

officer and slackened their march, from a fear, no doubt, of some

ambush.--Genevieve profited by this circumstance and, still running, she

arrived at the borders of the river of Cedron. Not far from thence she

perceived a small hill, planted with olives; this wood, buried in the

shade, was scarcely distinguishable from the darkness of the night. She

listened, all was silent; nothing was heard but the measured tread of

the soldiers as they slowly approached. Genevieve had a momentary hope,

thinking that, perhaps, the young man of Nazareth, warned in time, had

quitted this place. She advanced cautiously in the obscurity, when she

stumbled against the body of a man stretched beneath an olive tree. She

could not restrain a cry of fear, whilst the man against whom she had

stumbled suddenly awoke and said: 'Master, pardon me but this time

again; I could not overcome the sleep that invaded me.'

'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?'

'Yes,' replied the disciple in a surprised and alarmed tone and now

completely waking up: 'I see in the distance some helmets, sparkling

from the light of the torches. But,' he added, looking round, 'where are

my companions, then?'

'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:

'Where is the Nazarene? Tell us, Judas, where is he?'

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.'

At these words one of the soldiers who were not occupied in detaining as

prisoners the disciples, who in vain endeavored to fly, remembering the

recommendations of their officer respecting the infernal sorceries that

Jesus might employ against them, regarded him with fear, hesitating to

approach in order to seize him; the officer himself kept behind the

soldiers in order to excite them to seize Jesus, but did not approach

him himself. Jesus, calm and thoughtful, made a few steps towards the

armed men and said to them in his gentle voice:

'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.

Genevieve, hidden by the shade of an olive tree, could not restrain

tears of grief and indignation on seeing these men so miserably abandon

Jesus; she comprehended why the doctors of the law and the high priests,

instead of arresting him in open day, had arrested him during the night;

they feared the rage of the people and of the resolute men like Banaias;

these would not have allowed him to be carried off without resistance,

the friend of the poor and the afflicted.

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.

After entering Jerusalem through the deserted and silent streets, as

they are at that hour of the night, the soldiers repaired to the house

of Caiphus, the high priest, where they conducted Jesus. The slave,

remarking at the door of this house a great many servants, glided among

them as the soldiers entered, and remained at first beneath the

vestibule lighted by torches. By this light she recognized the man who,

like herself, had followed the friend of the oppressed since he left the

wood; it was Peter, one of his disciples. He appeared as much grieved as

alarmed, the tears streaming down his face; Genevieve thought at first

that one at least of his disciples would be faithful to him and he would

show his devotedness by accompanying Jesus before the tribunal of

Caiphus. Alas! the slave was deceived. Scarcely had Peter crossed the

threshold of the door, when, instead of joining Mary's son, he sat down

on one of the benches of the vestibule, amongst the servants of

Caiphus, burying his face in his hands.

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!'

'He preaches against the rich,' said a servant of the high priest; 'he

commands the renunciation of riches; but if our masters were to keep

poor cheer, we servants should be reduced to the lot of hungry beggars,

instead of fattening on the many feasts given by our masters.'

'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.'

At this moment one of the officers of the high priest, placed by the

side of the Nazarene and charged to watch him, struck with his mace on

the floor of the hall; immediately there was a dead silence. Then

Caiphus, after a few words exchanged in a low voice with the other

pharisees composing the tribunal, said to those assembled: 'Who are they

who can depose here against the man called Jesus of Nazareth?'

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!'

A fresh movement of horror manifested itself amongst the judges and

those of the auditory who were devoted to them.

'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?'

At this infamous outrage, to strike a man bound, Genevieve felt her

heart leap, her tears stream, whilst on the contrary, loud bursts of

laughter rose from amidst the soldiers and servants of 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.'

'Oh!' thought Genevieve, 'how Jesus must suffer from this base

ingratitude of his friends! It must be more cruel than the outrages of

which he is the object.' And turning her head towards the street door,

she saw at a distance Peter, still seated on a bench, his face hidden in

his hands and not having even the courage to assist and defend his kind

master before this tribunal of blood. The tumult produced by the

violence of the officer being somewhat appeased, one of the emissaries

continued in a loud voice:

'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!'

'Yes! yes!' cried all the soldiers and the servants of the high priest,

'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!'

Genevieve's heart heaved with indignation and disgust. This Peter, by a

base weakness, or for fear of sharing the fate of his master, denying

him twice and perjuring himself, for this indignity was in her eyes the

worst of men: more than ever she pitied Mary's son for having been

betrayed, given up, abandoned, and denied by those whom he so much

loved.

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?'

'Why you can rise in a mass; you can arm yourselves with stones, with

sticks!' exclaimed Genevieve, 'and at least you can die to avenge him

who has consecrated his life to your cause!'

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.'

The two vagabonds remained silent, shaking their heads, and Genevieve

left them, saying to herself with profound grief:

'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!'

'Do you hear the wretch! he calls this audacious menace a prayer!'

exclaimed the officer commanding the militia, who prudently kept himself

in the middle of his troop; 'run your lances through the miserable;

strike him with your swords if he does not make way for you!'

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!'

'By Abraham's nose! 'tis I who will rip open your belly, you who talk so

big, and release my friend!' exclaimed Banaias. 'I am only one; but a

falcon is worth much more than a hundred blackbirds.'

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.

'The infamous! who would pervert our wives,' said the other emissary,

'by encouraging adultery, since he snatched one of these sinners from

the punishment she deserved!'

'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!'

'Yes, yes, death to the Nazarene!' cried the people, amongst whom was

Genevieve. And this assemblage still increasing, repeated, with greater

fury, those fatal cries:

'Death to the Nazarene!'

'Alas!' said the slave to herself, 'is there a more horrible fate than

that of this young man; abandoned by the poor, whom he befriended; hated

by the rich, to whom he preached humility and charity! How deep must be

the bitterness of his heart!'

The soldiers, followed by the crowd, had arrived opposite the house of

Pilate.

Several high priests, doctors of law, senators, and other pharisees,

among whom were Caiphus, Doctor Baruch, and the banker Jonas, had joined

the troop and walked at its head. One of these pharisees having cried:

'Seigneurs, let us enter Pontius Pilate's that he may instantly condemn

the cursed Nazarene to death!'

Caiphus replied with a pious air:

'My seigneurs, we cannot enter the house of a heathen: this stain would

prevent our eating the passover to-day.'

'No!' added Doctor Baruch, 'we cannot commit this abominable impiety.'

'Only hear them!' said to the crowd one of the emissaries, with an

accent of admiration.

'Do you hear the holy men? What respect they profess for the commandment

of our holy religion! Ah! these are not like that impious Nazarene, who

rails and blasphemes at the most sacred things, when he dares to declare

that we need not observe the Sabbath!'

'Oh! the infamous hypocrites!' said Genevieve to herself: 'how well

Jesus knew them; how much reason he had to unmask them. They now

hesitate to enter the house of a heathen, for fear of soiling their

sandals; but they do not fear to soil their soul by demanding from this

heathen to shed the blood of the righteous, one of their compatriots.

Ah! poor youth of Nazareth! they will make you pay with your life for

the courage you have shown in attacking these rich swindlers.'

The officer of the militia having entered the palace of Pontius Pilate,

whilst the escort remained outside guarding the prisoner, Genevieve

mounted behind a cart stopped by the crowd, and endeavored to keep in

sight the young man of Nazareth. She saw him standing in the midst of

the soldiers, his long chestnut hair falling over his shoulders, his

looks still calm and gentle, and a smile of resignation on his lips. He

contemplated the tumultuous and threatening crowd with a sort of

painful commiseration, as if he had pitied these men for their blindness

and iniquity.

Insults were offered him on all sides. The soldiers themselves treated

him with so much brutality that the blue mantle he wore over his white

tunic was already almost torn from his back. Jesus, to so many outrages

and ill treatment, opposed an unalterable placidity, and on his pale and

handsome features Genevieve did not see the least impatience or the

least anger betray itself. Suddenly these words were heard circulating

through the crowd:

'Ah! here he comes, the Seigneur Pontius Pilate!'

'He will at length pronounce sentence of death against this cursed

Nazarene.'

'Luckily 'tis not far from hence to Golgotha, where they execute

criminals; we can go and see him crucified!'

In fact, Genevieve soon saw the Governor, Pontius Pilate, appear at the

door of his house; no doubt he had been just aroused from sleep, for he

was enveloped in a long morning robe; his hair and beard were in

disorder; his eyes, red and swollen, appeared dazzled at the rays of the

rising sun; he could scarcely conceal several yawns, and seemed greatly

annoyed at having been awakened so early, having, perhaps, as usual

prolonged his supper until daybreak. So, addressing Doctor Baruch in a

tone of harshness and ill-humor, like a person anxious to abridge an

interview that was unpleasant, said to him:

'What is the crime of which you accuse this young man?'

'If he were not a malefactor, we should not have brought him to you.'

Pontius Pilate, annoyed at the short reply of Doctor Baruch, continued

impatiently, and stifling another yawn:

'Well, since you say he has sinned against the law, take him; judge him

according to your law.'

And the governor turned his back upon the Doctor, shrugging his

shoulders, and re-entered his house.

For a moment Genevieve thought the young man saved, but the reply of

Pontius Pilate produced much indignation amongst the crowd.

'Such are the Romans, then,' said some; 'they only seek to keep up

agitation in our poor country, that they might rule it more easily.'

'This Pontius Pilate evidently appears to protect this cursed Nazarene!'

'As for me, I am certain the Nazarene is a secret agent of the Romans,'

added one of the emissaries: 'they make use of this seditious vagabond

for their dark projects.'

'There is no doubt of it,' added the other emissary; 'the Nazarene has

sold himself to the Romans.'

At this last outrage, which seemed painful to Jesus, Genevieve saw him

again lift up his eyes to heaven in a heart-rending manner, whilst the

crowd repeated:

'Yes, yes, he is a traitor.'

'He is an agent of the Romans!'

'To death with the traitor! to death!'

Doctor Baruch was unwilling to lose his prey; he and several of the high

priests, seeing Pontius Pilate entering his house, ran after him, and

having supplicated him to return, they brought him outside, to the

great applause of the crowd. Pontius Pilate appeared to continue, almost

in spite of himself, the interrogatory; he said with impatience to

Doctor Baruch, pointing to Jesus:

'Of what do you accuse this man?'

The doctor of law replied, in a loud voice:

'This man excites the people to revolt by the doctrines he teaches

throughout Judea, from Galilee, where he commenced, unto here.'

At this accusation Genevieve heard one of the emissaries say quietly to

his companion:

'Doctor Baruch is a cunning fox; by this accusation of sedition, he will

force the governor to condemn the Nazarene.'

Pontius Pilate, having signed to Jesus to draw near him, they exchanged

a few words between themselves; at each reply of the young man of

Nazareth, still calm and dignified, Pontius Pilate seemed more and more

convinced of his innocence; he resumed in a loud voice, addressing the

high priests and doctors of the law:

'You have presented this man to me as exciting the people to revolt;

nevertheless, having questioned him in your presence, I do not find him

guilty of any of the crimes of which you accuse him. I do not judge him

deserving of death: I shall therefore discharge him after he has been

chastised.'

And Pontius Pilate, stifling a yawn, made a sign to one of his servants,

who hastily departed. The crowd, not satisfied with the sentence of

Pontius Pilate, at first murmured, then complained aloud:

'It was not to have the Nazarene chastised that we brought him here,'

said some; 'but that he should be condemned to death!'

'Yes, yes!' exclaimed several voices; 'death! death!'

Pontius Pilate replied not to these murmurs and cries but by shrugging

his shoulders and re-entering his house.

'If the governor is convinced of the innocence of the young man,' said

Genevieve to herself, 'why does he have him chastised? 'Tis both

cowardly and cruel. He hopes, perhaps, to calm, by this concession, the

rage of the enemies of Jesus. Alas! he deceives himself; he will only

appease them by the death of this just man!'

Scarcely had Pontius Pilate given orders for Jesus to be chastised, than

the soldiers seized him, tore off the last remnants of his mantle,

stripped him of his tunic of linen, and his tunic of wool, which they

turned down over his leather belt, and thus laid bare the upper portion

of his body; they then bound him to one of the pillars that adorned the

entrance door of the house of the Roman Governor. Jesus opposed no

resistance, offered no complaint, turned his celestial face towards the

crowd, and regarded it sorrowfully, but without appearing to hear the

hootings and insults showered upon him. They had sent for the

executioner of the city to flog him with rods, so, whilst awaiting the

coming of the executioner of the law, the vociferations continued, still

excited by the emissaries of the pharisees.

'Pontius Pilate hopes to satisfy us by the chastisement of this

vagabond; but he is deceived,' said some.

'The culpable indulgence of the Roman governor,' added one of the

emissaries, 'only proves too well that there is a secret understanding

between him and the Nazarene.'

'Eh! my friends, of what do you complain?' inquired another: 'Pontius

Pilate gives us more than we ask of him; we only wanted the death of the

Nazarene, and he will be chastised before he is put to death. Glory to

the generous Pontius Pilate.'

'Yes, yes! for he must certainly condemn him; we will force him to do

it.'

'Ah! here's the executioner!' cried several voices: 'here's the

executioner and his assistant.'

Genevieve recognized the same two men, who, three days before, had

flogged her with a whip at the house of her master; she could not

restrain her tears at the thought that this youth, who was all love and

tenderness, was about to suffer an ignominous punishment reserved for

slaves. The two executioners carried under their arm a package of hazel

twigs, long, flexible, and as thick as a thumb. Each of the executioners

took one, and on a sign from Caiphus, the blows began to fall violently

and rapidly on the shoulders of the young man of Nazareth. When one twig

broke, the executioners took another. At first Genevieve turned away her

eyes from this cruel spectacle; but she was forced to hear the savage

jests of the crowd, which, to the son of Mary, must have been a more

horrible torture than the punishment itself. 'You who said, "Love one

another," you cursed Nazarene!' cried one; 'see now how you are loved!'

'You who said, "Share your bread and your cloak with him who has neither

bread nor cloak," the worthy executioners follow their precepts; they

share paternally their rods to break them across your back.'

'You who said, "That it was more easy for a camel to pass through the

eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven,"

don't you think it will be easier for you to pass through the eye of a

needle than to escape the rod with which they warm your back?'

'You who glorified vagabonds, thieves, prostitutes, and such like game;

no doubt you loved the wretches, because you knew you should one day be

flogged like them, great prophet!'

Genevieve, despite her repugnance to see the punishment of Jesus, not

hearing him utter a cry of complaint, feared that he had swooned from

the pain, and looked at him with eyes full of anguish! Alas! to her it

was a horrible spectacle.

The back of the young man was one large bleeding wound, interrupted

simply by some blue and swollen furrows; at these places only the skin

had not been broken. Jesus turned his face to heaven, and closed his

eyes, to escape, no doubt, the sight of this implacable crowd. His face,

livid and bathed in sweat, betrayed a horrible suffering at each fresh

stroke cutting into his living flesh. And yet, at times, he still

attempted to smile with angelic resignation. The high priest, the

doctors of the law, the senators, and all the wicked pharisees, followed

with a triumphant and greedy regard the execution of the punishment.

Amongst the most rancorous in feasting on this torture, Genevieve

remarked Doctor Baruch, Caiphus, and Jonas, the banker.

The executioners began to tire of flogging; they had broken on the back

of Jesus, nearly all their rods; they questioned, by a look, Doctor

Baruch, as if to ask him if it were not time to put an end to the

torture; but the doctor of law exclaimed: 'No, no; use up, even to the

very last of your rods.'

The order of the pharisee was obeyed; the last rods were broken on the

shoulders of the young Nazarene, and splashed with blood the faces of

the executioners; it was no longer the skin they flagellated, but a

bloody wound. The martyrdom now became so atrocious that Jesus, despite

his courage, gave way, and dropped his head on his left shoulder; his

knees trembled, and he would have fallen to the ground, but for the

cords that bound him to the pillar by the middle of his body. Pontius

Pilate, after having ordered this punishment, had re-entered his own

house; he now again came out, and signed to the executioners to release

the condemned.

They unbound and supported him; one of them threw over his shoulders his

woollen tunic. The contact of this rough cloth on the quivering flesh

caused a new and so cruel an agony, that Jesus trembled in every limb.

The very excess of pain brought him to himself; he raised his head,

endeavored to stand so firm on his legs as to do without the assistance

of his executioners, opened his eyes, and threw on the multitude a look

of tenderness.

Pontius Pilate, thinking he had satisfied the hatred of the pharisees,

said to the Crowd, after having had Jesus unbound:

'There is the man;' and he signed to his officers to enter his house; he

was preparing to follow them, when Caiphus, the high priest, after

consulting in a low voice with Doctor Baruch, and Jonas the banker,

exclaimed, stopping the governor by taking hold of his robe:

'Seigneur Pilate, if you deliver up Jesus you are not a friend of the

Emperor; for the Nazarene calls himself king, declares himself against

the Emperor.'

'Pontius Pilate will fear passing for a traitor with his master, the

Emperor Tiberius,' said to his companions one of the emissaries placed

behind Genevieve.

'He will be compelled to give up the Nazarene.'

Then the wicked man cried out, in a very loud voice:

'Death to the Nazarene! the enemy of the Emperor Tiberius, the protector

of Judea!'

'Yes, yes!' exclaimed several, 'the Nazarene called himself King of the

Jews!'

'He would overthrow the dominion of the Emperor Tiberius!'

'He would declare himself king, by exciting the populace against the

Romans, our friends and allies.'

'Reply to that, Pontius Pilate!' cried, from the middle of the crowd,

one of the two emissaries.

'How is it that we, Jews, are more devoted than you to the power of the

Emperor Tiberius, your master? How is it that 'tis we, Jews, who demand

the death of the seditious who would destroy the Roman authority; and

that 'tis you, governor for Tiberius, who would pardon this rebel?'

This apostrophe appeared the more to trouble Pontius Pilate, as from all

sides they cried:

'Yes, yes, it would be to betray the Emperor to deliver up the

Nazarene!'

'Or prove, perhaps, that they have been accomplices!'

Pontius Pilate, despite the desire he had, perhaps, to save the young

man, appeared more and more annoyed at these reproaches coming from the

crowd, reproaches which placed in doubt his fidelity to the Emperor

Tiberius. He went towards the pharisees, and conversed with them in an

undertone, whilst the soldiers guarded Jesus, bound, in the midst of

them. Then Caiphus, the high priest, said aloud, addressing Pilate, that

he might be heard by the crowd, and pointing to Jesus:

'We have found that this man perverts our nation; that he prevents

tribute being paid to Cæsar, and that he calls himself King of the Jews,

as being the son of God.'

Then Pontius Pilate, turning towards the young man of Nazareth, said to

him,

'Are you King of the Jews?'

'Do you say this of yourself?' inquired Jesus, in a voice weakened by

suffering; 'or do you ask it of me because others have said it to you

before me?'

'The high priests and senators have delivered you up to me,' said

Pilate. 'What have you done? Do you pretend to be King of the Jews?'

Jesus gently shook his head, and said:

'My kingdom is not of this world; if my kingdom had been of this world,

my friends would have combated to prevent my being delivered to you; but

I repeat, my kingdom is not of this world.'

Pontius Pilate again turned to the pharisees, as if to take them as

witnesses of Jesus' reply, which would absolve him, since he proclaimed

that his kingdom was not of this world.

'His kingdom,' thought Genevieve, 'is no doubt, in unknown worlds,

where, according to our druidical faith, we shall rejoin those we have

loved here. How will they dare condemn Jesus as a rebel against the

Emperor? He who has so often repeated:

"Render unto Cæsar that which is Cæsar's, and unto God that which is

God's!"

But, alas! Genevieve forgot that the hatred of the pharisees was

implacable.

The Seigneurs Baruch, Jonas, and Caiphus, having again spoken in an

under tone with Pilate, the latter said to Jesus:

'Are you, yes or no, the son of God?'

'Yes,' replied Jesus, in his mild but firm voice; 'yes, I am.'

At these words, the priests, doctors and senators uttered exclamations

which were repeated by the crowd.

'He has blasphemed! he has said he is the son of God!'

'And he who says he is the son of God also calls himself King of the

Jews!'

'He is an enemy of the Emperor!'

'To death; to death with the Nazarene; crucify him!'

Pontius Pilate, a strange compound of cowardly weakness and equity,

wishing no doubt to make a last effort to save Jesus, whom he did not

think guilty, said to the crowd that it was customary on this feast day

to set at liberty a criminal, and that the people had to choose for this

act of clemency between a prisoner named Barabbas and Jesus, who had

already been beaten with rods, he then added:

'Which of the two would you that I should release to you, Jesus or

Barabbas?'

Genevieve saw the emissaries of the pharisees run from group to group,

saying:

'Demand the release of Barabbas, let them give up Barabbas.'

And presently the crowd cried from all parts:

'Deliver Barabbas! and guard Jesus!'

'But,' said Pontius Pilate, 'what shall I do with Jesus?'

'Crucify him!' replied a thousand voices.

'Crucify him!'

'But,' again inquired Pilate, 'what harm has he done?'

'Crucify him!' replied the crowd, more furious than ever.

'Crucify him!'

'Death to the Nazarene!'

Pontius Pilate, not having the courage to defend Jesus, whom he found

innocent, made a sign to one of his servants, the latter entered the

governor's house, whilst the crowd shouted with increased fury:

'Crucify the Nazarene! crucify him!'

Jesus, still calm, mournful and pensive, seemed a perfect stranger to

what was passing around him.

'No doubt,' said Genevieve to herself, 'his thoughts are already in that

mysterious world where we are born and live again after quitting this

one.'

The servant of Pontius Pilate returned, carrying a silver jug in one

hand, and a basin in the other; a second servant took the basin whilst

the first poured the water into it. Pontius Pilate dipped his hands in

the water, saying in a loud voice: 'I am innocent of the death of this

righteous man; 'tis for you to look to it. As for me, I wash my hands of

it.'

'Let the blood of the Nazarene be upon us and our children.'

'Take Jesus then, and crucify him yourselves,' replied Pontius.

'As you demand it, Barabbas shall be released to you.'

And Pilate re-entered his house to the acclamation of the crowd, whilst

Caiphus, Doctor Baruch, Jonas the banker, and the other pharisees,

triumphantly raised their fists in Jesus' face.

The officer who had commanded the escort of militia charged to arrest

Mary's son in the garden of Olives, approaching Caiphus, said to him:

'Seigneur, to conduct the Nazarene to Golgotha, the place of execution

for criminals, we shall have to traverse the populous quarter of the

Judicial gate; the calmness of the partizans of this rebel may be only

apparent, and once arrived in the quarter of this vile populace, they

may rise to release Jesus. I can answer for the courage of my brave

soldiers; they have, already, this morning, after a deadly combat, put

to flight an immense troop of determined vagabonds, commanded by a

bandit named Banaias, who would have forced us to deliver up Jesus. Not

one of those wretches escaped, despite their furious resistance.'

'The base liar!' said Genevieve to herself on hearing this bragging

officer of militia, who continued:

'Still, Seigneur Caiphus, despite the proved courage of our militia, it

would be prudent, perhaps, to confide the escort of the Nazarene to the

place of execution, to the Roman guard.'

'I am of your opinion,' replied the high priest: 'I will go and ask one

of the officers of Pilate to keep the Nazarene a prisoner in the guard

room of the Roman cohorts until the hour of execution.'

Genevieve then saw, whilst the high priest went to converse with

Pilate's officer, the chief of the militia approach Jesus; presently she

heard this officer, replying probably to some words of the young man,

say to him in a cruel and jesting tone: 'You are in a great hurry to

stretch yourself on the cross. They must first make it, and it is not

made in the twinkling of an eye. You ought to know this better than any

one, in your quality of a former journeyman carpenter.'

One of the officers of Pontius Pilate, to whom the high priest had

spoken, then came to Jesus and said to him: 'I am come to conduct you to

the guard-room of our soldiers: when the cross is ready, they will bring

it, and under our escort you shall start for Calvary! follow us!'

And Jesus, still bound, was conducted to a short distance off, by the

militia, to the court where the Roman soldiers lodged; the door, before

which paced a sentinel, being open, several persons who had, like

Genevieve, followed the Nazarene remained outside to see what was about

to happen.

When the young man was brought to the court of the guard-house (or

prætorium), the Roman soldiers were scattered in different groups: some

were cleaning their arms; others were playing at different games; some

were practising with the lance under the inspection of an officer;

others, extended on benches in the sun, were singing or conversing

amongst themselves. She recognized, from their faces bronzed by the sun,

from their martial and ferocious air, and the military order of their

arms and clothes, those courageous, warlike, and merciless soldiers who

had conquered the world, leaving behind them, as in Gaul, massacre,

spoliation and slavery. The moment the soldiers heard the name of Jesus

of Nazareth, and saw him brought in by one of their officers, they all

left their occupations and hastened round him. Genevieve anticipated, on

remarking the coarse and brutal manner of these soldiers, that Mary's

son was about to suffer fresh outrages.

The slave remembered having read in the narratives left by the ancestors

of her husband, Fergan, of the horrors committed by Cæsar's soldiers,

the scourge of the Gauls, she did not doubt that these by whom the young

man was surrounded, were equally as cruel as those of the past times.

There was, in the middle of the court of the prætorium, a stone bench,

on which the soldiers made Jesus sit down, still bound; then approaching

him, they commenced insulting and railing at him.

'This, then, is the famous prophet!' said one.

'This, then, is he who announced that the time will come when the sword

will be exchanged for a reaping hook, and when there will be no more

war! no more battles!'

'No more wars! By the valiant gold god Mars! no more war!' exclaimed

other soldiers with indignation.

'Ah! these are your prophecies, thou prophet of evil!'

'No more war! That is, no more clarions, no more floating standards, no

more brilliant cuirasses, no more plumed helmets, which attract the eyes

of the women!'

'No more war! that is, no more conquests.'

'What! no more try our iron boots on the heads of the conquered people!'

'No longer drink their wine while courting their daughters, as here, as

in Gaul, as in the whole world, in fact!'

'No more war! By Hercules! And what then will become of the strong and

the valiant, cursed Nazarene? According to you, they will, from daybreak

till night, labor in the field or weave cloths like base slaves, instead

of dividing their time between battle, idleness, the tavern, and the

passion of love!'

'You, who call yourself the son of God,' said one of these Romans,

raising his fist against the young man; 'you are, then, the son of the

God Fear, coward that you are!'

'You, who call yourself the King of the Jews, would be acknowledged,

then, as king of all the poltroons of the universe!'

'Comrades!' exclaimed one of the soldiers, bursting into a laugh, 'since

he is king of the poltroons, let us crown him!'

This proposition was received with insulting joy; several voices

immediately cried out:

'Yes, since he is king, we must invest him with the imperial purple.'

'We must put a sceptre in his hand; we will then proclaim him, and honor

him like our august Emperor Tiberius.'

And whilst their companions continued to surround and insult the young

Nazarene, indifferent to these outrages, several of the soldiers went

out.--One took the red cloak of a horse soldier; another the cane of a

centurion; a third remembering a heap of fagots intended to be burnt,

lying in a corner, chose a few sprigs of a thorny plant, and began

weaving a crown. Several voices then exclaimed:

'We must now proceed to crown the King of the Jews.'

'Yes, let us crown the king of the cowards!'

'The son of God!'

'The son of the god Fear!'

'Companions, this coronation must be performed with pomp, as if it

concerned a real Cæsar.'

'As for me, I am crown bearer.'

'And I, sceptre-bearer.'

'And I, bearer of the imperial mantle.'

And amidst shouts and obscene jests, these Romans formed a sort of mock

procession. The crown-bearer advanced the first, holding the crown of

thorns with a solemn air; and followed by a certain number of soldiers;

next came the sceptre-bearer, then other soldiers; lastly, the one who

carried the mantle; and all sang in chorus:

'Hail to the King of the Jews!

'Hail to the Messiah!

'Hail to the Son of God!

'Hail to the Cæsar of poltroons, hail!'

Jesus, seated on his bench, regarded the preparations for this insulting

ceremony with unalterable placidity. The crown-bearer having approached

first, raised the thorny emblem above the head of the young man, and

said to him: 'I crown thee, O king!'

And the Roman placed the crown so brutally on the head of Jesus, that

the thorns pierced the flesh; large drops of blood ran, like tears of

blood, down the pale face of the victim; but, except the first

involuntary shudder caused by the agony, the features of the meek and

lowly sufferer maintained their usual placidity, and betrayed neither

resentment nor rage.

'And I invest you with the imperial mantle, O king!' added another

Roman, whilst one of his companions drew off the tunic that had been

thrown over the shoulders of Jesus. No doubt the wool of this garment

had already adhered to the living flesh, for at the moment it was

violently snatched from the shoulders of Jesus, he uttered a loud

exclamation of pain, but this was all: he allowed himself to be

patiently invested with the red cloak.

'Now, take thy sceptre, O great king!' added another soldier, kneeling

before the young man, and placing in his hand the centurion's

walking-stick; then all, with loud bursts of laughter, repeated, 'Hail

to the King of the Jews, hail!'

A great many of them kneeled before him out of mockery, repeating:

'Hail, O great King!'

Jesus retained in his hand this mock sceptre, but pronounced not a word;

this unalterable resignation, this angelic sweetness, so struck his

tormentors, that, at first they were stupified; then, their rage

increasing in proportion to the patience of the young Nazarene, they

emulated each other in irritation, exclaiming: 'This is not a man, it is

a statue!'

'All the blood he had in his veins has left him with the rods of the

executioner. The coward, he does not even complain!'

'Coward!' said a veteran in a thoughtful air, after having long

contemplated Jesus, although at first he had been one of his most cruel

tormentors: 'No, he is no coward! no, to endure patiently all that we

have made him suffer, requires more courage than to throw oneself sword

in hand on the enemy. No!' he repeated, drawing aside, 'no, this man is

no coward!'

And Genevieve fancied she saw a tear drop on the grey moustache of the

old soldier.

The other soldiers laughed at the compassion of their companion, and

exclaimed:

'He does not see that the Nazarene feigns resignation that we may pity

him.'

'It's true! within he is all rage and hatred, tho' outside he is so

serene and compassionating.'

'He is a bashful tiger invested with a lamb's skin.'

At these insulting words Jesus contented himself with smiling mournfully

and shaking his head; this movement made the blood fall in a spray

around him, for the wounds made on his forehead by the thorns still

bled.

At sight of this blood, Genevieve could not help murmuring to herself

the chorus of the children of the mistletoe, mentioned in the recitals

of her husband's ancestors:

'Flow, flow, blood of the captive! Fall, fall, incarnate dew! Germinate

and grow, avenging harvest!'

'Oh,' said Genevieve to herself, 'the blood of this innocent, of this

martyr, so basely abandoned by his friends, by this people, poor and

oppressed, whom he cherished, this blood will return on them and their

children. But may it also fertilize the bloody harvest of vengeance.'

The Romans, exasperated by the heavenly patience of Jesus, knew not what

to think of to conquer him. Neither insults nor threats could move him,

so one of the soldiers snatched from his hand the stick he continued to

hold mechanically and broke it on his head, exclaiming,

'You will, perhaps, give some signs of life, statue of flesh and bones!'

but Jesus, having at first bowed his head beneath the blow, raised it,

casting a look of pardon on the one who had struck him. No doubt this

ineffable sweetness intimidated or embarrassed the barbarians, for one

of them, detaching his scarf, bandaged the eyes of the young man of

Nazareth, saying to him:

'O great king! thy respectful subjects are not worthy to support thy

glance!'

When Jesus had his eyes thus bandaged, the idea of a ferocious baseness

struck the mind of the Romans; one of them approached the victim, gave

him a slap in the face and said to him, bursting into a laugh:

'O great prophet! guess the name of him who has struck you.'

Then a horrible sport commenced. These robust and armed men, each struck

in turn the fettered victim, broken by so many tortures, saying to him

every time they struck him on the face:

'Can you guess this time who struck you?'

Jesus (and these were the only words that Genevieve heard him pronounce

during the whole martyrdom), Jesus said in a voice of compassion,

lifting to heaven his eyes still covered with the bandage:

'May God forgive them, they know not what they do.'

Such was the only plaint uttered, by the sufferer, and it was not even a

plaint; it was a prayer he addressed to God, imploring pardon for his

tormentors. The Romans, far from being appeased by this divine

forbearance, redoubled their violences and outrages. Some wretches were

base enough to spit in Jesus' face. Genevieve could no longer have

supported the spectacle of these enormities, even if the gods had not

put an end to it; she heard in the street a great tumult, and saw arrive

Doctor Baruch, Jonas the banker, and Caiphus the high priest. Two men in

their suite carried a heavy wooden cross, a little longer than the

height of a man. At sight of this instrument of torture, the persons

waiting outside the gate of the guard-house, and amongst whom was

Genevieve, cried in a triumphant voice:

'Here's the cross at last! here's the cross!'

'A cross quite new and worthy of a king!'

'And as a king, the Nazarene will not say he is treated as a beggar!'

When the Romans heard it announced that the cross was brought, they

seemed very vexed that their victim was about to escape them. Jesus,

however, at the words 'Here's the cross! here's the cross!' rose up with

a sort of relief, hoping, no doubt, soon to bid adieu to this world. The

soldiers uncovered his eyes, drew off the red cloak, only leaving the

crown of thorns upon his head, so that he remained half naked; he was

thus conducted to the door of the guard-room, where he was met by the

men who were carrying the cross. Doctor Baruch, Jonas the banker, and

Caiphus, in their still unsatisfied hatred, exchanged triumphant

looks--pointing to the young man of Nazareth, pale, bleeding, and whose

strength seemed exhausted.--These merciless pharisees could not resist

the cruel pleasure of once more outraging the victim. The banker Jonas

said to him:

'You see, audacious insolent! the consequences of insulting the rich;

you do not now rail at them? You no longer compare them to camels

incapable of passing through the eye of a needle! It is a great pity

that your inclination for jesting is now passed.'

'Are you satisfied now,' added Doctor Baruch, 'with having treated the

doctors of law as swindlers and hypocrites, seeking to obtain the best

places at feasts? At any rate they will not dispute with you your place

on the cross.'

'And the priests,' added Caiphus, 'they were also swindlers and leeches

who devoured the widow's mite, under the pretence of long prayers,

hard-hearted men, less merciful than heathen Samaritans; dolts with

minds just narrow enough to observe the Sabbath piously, but so proud

that they had the trumpets sounded to announce their charities! You

thought yourself strong, you played the audacious, at the head of your

band of beggars, vagabonds, and prostitutes, which you picked up in

taverns, where you passed your days and nights! Where are your partizans

now? Call them, then, let them come and deliver you!'

The hatred of the crowd was not so patient as that of the pharisees, who

delighted in slowly torturing their victim; and furious cries were soon

heard of:

'Death to the Nazarene, death!'

'Let us make haste!'

'Do they mean to pardon him by thus retarding his execution?'

'He will not expire in a moment; they will have plenty of time to

converse with him when he is nailed to the cross.'

'Yes, let us hasten; his hand of wretches, frightened for a moment,

might attempt to carry him off!'

'And besides, where is the use of speaking to him? You can see plainly

he will not reply.'

'To death! to death!'

'And he must himself carry his cross to his place of punishment.'

The proposition of this fresh barbarity was received with applause by

all. They led Jesus out of the guard-room, and placed the cross on one

of his bleeding shoulders. The pain was so dreadful, the weight of the

cross so heavy, that the wretched son of Mary felt his knees tremble,

and he nearly fell to the ground; but finding fresh strength in his

courage and resignation, he seemed to bear up against suffering; and,

bending beneath his burthen, he slowly commenced his march. The crowd

and escort of soldiers cried, in following him:

'Room, room, for the triumph of the King of the Jews!'

The mournful cortege put itself in motion for the place of execution,

situated beyond the Judicial Gate; quitted the rich quarter of the

temple, and pursued its way through a part of the town much less rich

and very populous; thus, as by degrees the escort penetrated the quarter

of the poor, Jesus received at least some marks of interest on their

part. Genevieve saw a great many women, standing at their doors

lamenting the fate of the young man of Nazareth; they remembered that he

was the friend of poor mothers and their children; many of those

innocents therefore sent, with their tears, kisses to the good Jesus,

whose simple and touching parables they knew by heart. But, alas! almost

at every step, vanquished by pain, crushed under the weight he carried,

Mary's son stumbled; at length his strength entirely failed him; he fell

on his knees, then on his hands, and his forehead struck the ground.

Genevieve thought him dead or expiring; she could not restrain a cry of

grief and alarm; but he was not dead. His martyrdom and agony was still

to endure. The Roman soldiers who followed him, as well as the

pharisees, cried out:

'Up, up, lazy one! you pretend to fall that you may not carry your cross

to the end?'

'You, who reproached the high priests for binding on the backs of men

burthens insupportable, but which the priests would not touch with a

finger,' said Doctor Baruch, 'you are now doing precisely as they do in

refusing to bear your cross!'

Jesus, still on his knees, and his face bent toward the ground, helped

himself to rise with his two hands, which he did with great difficulty;

then, still scarcely able to stand, he waited for them to place the

cross on his shoulders; but scarcely was he again loaded with his

burthen, when, despite his courage and goodwill, he tottered and fell a

second time, crushed beneath the weight.

'Come,' said one of the emissaries, who, like the pharisees, had not

quitted his victim, 'see you that man in the brown mantle, who passes

so quickly, turning away his head as if he desired not to be recognized?

I have often seen him at the sermons of the Nazarene; suppose we force

him to carry the cross?'

'Yes,' said Baruch, 'call him.'

'Here! Simon!' cried the emissary; 'here! Simon the Cyrenean! you who

took part in the predictions of the Nazarene, come now, and take part in

the burthen he carries.'

Scarcely had the man Simon been recognized, than several amongst the

crowd cried like him, 'Here, Simon! Simon!'

The latter, at the first appeal of the emissary, had quickened his

march, as if he had heard nothing; but when a great number of voices

cried out his name, he turned back, advanced to where Jesus was, and

approached him with a troubled air.

'They are about to crucify Jesus of Nazareth, whose words you were so

delighted to hear,' said the banker Jonas to him in a jesting manner;

'he is your friend, will you not help him to carry his cross?'

'I will carry it myself,' replied Simon, having the courage to look with

an eye of pity on his young master, who, still kneeling, seemed ready to

fall.

Simon, having taken up the cross, walked before Jesus, and the cortege

pursued its route.

About a hundred paces further on, at the commencement of the street that

leads to the Judicial Gate, in passing before the shop of a vendor of

woolen cloths, Genevieve saw a woman of a venerable figure leave the

shop. This woman, at the sight of Jesus, pale, exhausted and bleeding,

could not restrain her tears; then, for the first time, the slave, who

until now, had forgotten that she might be sought after by order of her

master the Seigneur Gremion, remembered the address which her mistress

Aurelia had given her on the part of Jane, telling her that Veronica,

her nurse, keeping a shop near the Judicial Gate, could give her an

asylum. But Genevieve at this moment did not think of profiting by this

chance of safety. An unconquerable force attached her to the steps of

the young man of Nazareth, whom she resolved to follow to the end. She

then saw Veronica in tears approach Jesus, whose face was bathed in a

bloody sweat, and wipe with a linen towel the face of the poor martyr,

who thanked Veronica by a smile of celestial sweetness. A little farther

on, and whilst in the street which led to the Judicial Gate, Jesus

passed before several women who were weeping; he stopped a moment, and

said to these women, with an accent of profound melancholy:

'Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me! but weep for yourselves, weep

for your children; for there will come a time when it shall be said,

"Blessed are the barren! Blessed are they who have no children! Blessed

are they who have not given suck!"'

Then Jesus, though broken with suffering, drawing himself up with an air

of inspiration, his features impressed with a heart-rending grief, as if

he had a consciousness of the frightful miseries he foresaw, exclaimed,

in a prophetic tone which made the pharisees themselves tremble:

'Yes, the time approaches in which men, in their fear, will say to the

mountains, "fall upon us!" and to the hills, "cover us!"'

And Jesus, bowing his head on his bosom, painfully pursued his march

amidst the silence of stupor and alarm which had succeeded his prophetic

words. The cortege continued to climb the steep street that leads to the

Judicial Gate, under which you pass to ascend to Golgotha, a little hill

situated outside the city, and at the summit of which are erected the

crosses of the condemned.

Genevieve remarked that the crowd, at first so basely hostile to Jesus,

began, as the hour of execution approached, to be moved, and to lament

the fate of the victim. These unfortunate people comprehended, no doubt,

but, alas, too late, that in allowing the friend of the poor and

afflicted to be put to death, they not only deprived themselves of a

defender, but that by their shameful ingratitude they froze up, for the

future, the generous hearts that would have devoted themselves to their

cause. When the Judicial Gate was passed, they commenced ascending Mount

Calvary. This ascent was so steep, that frequently Simon the Cyrenean,

still carrying Jesus' cross, was obliged to stop, as well as the young

man himself. The latter seemed to have preserved scarcely sufficient

strength to enable him to reach the summit of this barren hill, covered

with rolling stones, and where a few blades of sickly verdure alone

grew. The sky was covered with thick clouds; the day being gloomy and

funereal, threw a veil of sadness over all things. Genevieve, to her

great surprise, observed, towards the summit of Calvary, two other

crosses erected besides the one intended to be erected for Jesus. In

her astonishment, she inquired of a person in the crowd, who replied to

her:

'These crosses are intended for two thieves, who are to be crucified at

the same time as the Nazarene.'

'And why do they execute these thieves at the same moment as the

Nazarene?' inquired the slave.

'Because the pharisees, men of justice, wisdom, and piety, have resolved

that the Nazarene shall be accompanied even in death, by the miserable

wretches whose company he frequented during his life.'

Genevieve turned round to ascertain who had made her this reply; she

recognized one of the two emissaries. 'Oh! the merciless wretches!'

thought she; 'they find means of outraging Jesus even in his death.'

When the Roman soldiers who had escorted the young man arrived, followed

by the crowd, more and more silent and mournful, at the summit of

Calvary, as also Doctor Baruch, Jonas the banker, and Caiphus the high

priest, all three, anxious to assist at the agony and death of their

victim, Genevieve perceived the two thieves destined to be crucified,

bound and surrounded with guards; they were livid, and awaited their

fate with a terror mingled with an impotent rage. At a sign from the

Roman officer, chief of the escort, the executioners drew the two

crosses from the holes in which they had been erected, and threw them on

the ground; then seized the condemned, despite their cries, their

blasphemies and desperate resistance, they stripped them of their

garments and extended them on the crosses; then, whilst the soldiers

held them there, the executioners, armed with long nails and heavy

hammers, nailed to the crosses, by the feet and hands, these poor

wretches who howled with pain. By this refinement of cruelty they made

the young man of Nazareth a witness of the torture he was himself about

to suffer; consequently, at sight of the sufferings of these two

companions of punishment, Jesus could not restrain his tears; he then

buried his face in his hands to shut out the painful vision.

The two thieves crucified, the executioners again erected their crosses,

on which they writhed and groaned, thrust them some way into the ground,

and strengthened them by means of stones and piles.

'Come, Nazarene,' said one of the executioners to Jesus, approaching

him, holding in one hand his heavy hammer, and in the other several long

nails. 'Come, are you ready? Must we use violence to you, as to your two

companions?'

'What can they complain of?' replied the other executioner; 'we are so

much at our ease on a cross, with our arms extended, for all the world

like a man stretching himself after a long nap!'

Jesus made no reply; he stripped off his garments, placed himself on the

instrument of death, extended his arms on the cross, and turned toward

heaven his eyes drowned in tears.

Genevieve then saw the two executioners kneel on each side of the young

man of Nazareth, and seize their long nails and heavy hammers. The slave

closed her eyes, but she heard the dull sounds of the hammers, as they

drove the nails into the living flesh, whilst the two crucified thieves

continued their cries. The blows of the hammer ceased--Genevieve opened

her eyes: the cross to which they had attached the Nazarene had just

been erected between those of the two crucified thieves. Jesus, his

head crowned with thorns, his long chestnut hair glued to his temples by

a mixture of blood and sweat, his face livid and impressed with fearful

agony, his lips blue; seemed about to expire; the whole weight of his

body resting on his two hands nailed to the cross, as also his feet,

from whence the blood trickled; his arms stiffened by violent convulsive

movements, whilst his knees, half bent, occasionally knocked against

each other. Genevieve then heard the almost dying voice of the two

thieves who, addressing Jesus, said to him: 'Cursed be thou, Nazarene!

cursed be thou, who told us that the first should be last, and the last

first? Behold us crucified, what can'st thou do for us?'

'Cursed be thou, who told us that they alone who were sick had need of

the physician: behold us ill; where is the physician?'

'Cursed be thou who told us that the good shepherd abandons his flock to

find a single sheep that has strayed! we have strayed, and thou, the

good shepherd, leave us in the hands of butchers.'

And these wretched men were not the only ones to insult the agony of

Jesus; for, horrible as it is, and which Genevieve whilst writing this

can hardly believe, Doctor Baruch, Jonas the banker, and Caiphus the

high priest, joined the two thieves in assailing and outraging Jesus, at

the moment he was about to render up his soul.

'Oh! Jesus of Nazareth! Jesus the Messiah! Jesus the prophet? Jesus, the

Savior of the world!' said Caiphus: 'how was it you did not prophesy

your own fate? Why did you not commence by saving yourself, you who were

to save the world?'

'You call yourself the son of God, O Nazarene the divine!' added the

banker Jonas: 'we will believe in your celestial power if you descend

from your cross. We only ask of you this little prodigy! Come, son of

God, descend! descend then! Ah! you prefer resting nailed on that beam,

like a bird of night at a barn-door? Free thyself: you might be called

Jesus the crucified, but never Jesus the son of God!'

'You appear to have much confidence in the Almighty!' added Doctor

Baruch: 'call on him then to assist you! If he protects you, if you are

really his son, why does he not thunder against us, your murderers? Why

does he not change this cross into a bed of roses, from whence you could

fly in a glory to heaven?'

The shouts and jests of the soldiers accompanied these disgraceful

outrages of the pharisees; suddenly Genevieve saw Jesus stiffen in all

his limbs, make a last effort to lift up his bleeding and wearied head

to heaven: a last ray seemed to illumine his celestial expression; a

heart-rending smile contracted his lips, and he murmured in a faint

voice: 'My God! my God! take pity on me!'

His head then fell on his bosom, the friend of the poor and afflicted

had ceased to live!

Genevieve knelt down and burst into tears. At this moment she heard a

voice exclaim behind her:

'Ah! here is the fugitive slave! Ah! I was certain of finding her in the

traces of this cursed Nazarene, on whom they have at length done

justice. Seize her! bind her hands behind her back. Oh! this time my

vengeance shall be terrible!'

Genevieve turned round and saw her master, the Seigneur Gremion.

'Now,' said Genevieve, 'I can die; since he, alas, who promised slaves

to break their chains is dead.'

* * * * *

Although I had to endure the most cruel torments on the part of my

master, I did not die, since I wrote this narrative for my husband

Fergan.

After having thus recounted what I knew and what I had seen of the life

and death of the young man of Nazareth, I would think it impious to

speak of what has happened to myself from the sad day when I saw the

friend of the poor and the afflicted expire on the cross. I will only

say, taking as an example the resignation of Jesus on the cross, I will

endure patiently the cruelties of Seigneur Gremion, from attachment to

my mistress Aurelia; suffering all in order not to quit her; so that I

remained the slave of Gremion's wife during the two years she was in

Judea. Thanks to human ingratitude, six months after the death of the

young man of Nazareth, his remembrance was effaced from the memory of

man. A few of his disciples only preserved a pious recollection of him.

When after two years passed in Judea with my mistress Aurelia, I

returned amongst the Gauls, I found them still in slavery, as frightful,

perhaps more so, than in times past.

I have added to this narrative, which I have written for my husband

Fergan, a small silver cross, which was given me by Jane, wife of the

Seigneur Chusa, a short time after the death of the young man of

Nazareth. Some persons (and Jane amongst them), who preserved a pious

respect for the memory of the friend of the afflicted, had some small

crosses made in remembrance of the instrument of Jesus's death, and wore

them or distributed them, after having deposited them on Mount Calvary,

on the ground whereon the blood of Jesus had streamed.

I know not if I am to be one day a mother; if I have this happiness (is

it a happiness for a slave to bring into the world other slaves?) I will

add this little silver cross to the family relics which ought to

transmit from generation to generation the history of the family of

Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. May this little cross be the

symbol of the enfranchising of the old and heroic Gallic race! May those

words of Jesus be one day realized for the children of our children:

'The chains of the slave shall be broken!'

[The End.]