In the atrium, in spite of the fountain, the shady portico, and the
early hour, it was extremely hot, for the marble was heated by the
spring sun; but at a distance from the house there grew an old,
branching pistachio-tree, which shaded a considerable area round about.
As the place was open, the breeze there was far greater than elsewhere;
hence Cinna commanded to carry to that spot the litter, decked with
hyacinths and apple-blossoms, in which Antea was resting. Then sitting
near her, he placed his palm on her hands, which were as pale as
alabaster, and asked,--
"Is it pleasant for thee here, carissima?"
"Pleasant," answered she, in a scarcely audible voice.
And she closed her eyes, as if sleep had seized her. Silence followed.
Only the breeze moved with a rustling the branches of the
pistachio-tree; and on the earth around the litter were quivering golden
spots, formed of sun-rays, which broke through between the leaves;
locusts were hissing among the rocks.
The sick woman opened her eyes after a moment.
"Caius," said she, "is it true that in this country a philosopher has
appeared, who cures the sick?"
"They call such men prophets here," answered Cinna. "I have heard of
him, and I wished to bring him to thee, but it turned out that he was a
false miracle-worker. Besides, he blasphemed against the sanctuary and
the religion of this country; hence the procurator has delivered him to
death, and this very day he is to be crucified."
Antea dropped her head.
"Time will cure thee," said Cinna, seeing the sadness reflected on her
face.
"Time is at the service of death, not of life," answered she, slowly.
And again silence ensued; round about the golden spots quivered
continually; the locusts hissed still more loudly, and from the crannies
of the cliff little lizards crept out onto stones, and sought sunny
places.
Cinna looked from moment to moment at Antea, and for the thousandth
time despairing thoughts flew through his head. He felt that all means
of salvation had been spent, that there was no ray of hope, that soon
the dear form before him would become a vanishing shadow and a handful
of dust in a columbarium.
Even now while lying with closed eyes in the litter decked with flowers,
she seemed dead.
"I will follow thee!" said Cinna, in his soul.
Meanwhile steps were heard in the distance. Immediately Antea's face
became white as chalk; from between her half-open lips came hurried
breathing; her bosom heaved quickly. The ill-fated martyr felt sure that
the crowd of invisible beings which preceded the corpse with glassy eyes
were drawing near. Cinna seized her hands and strove to pacify her.
"Fear not, Antea; I hear those steps too. That is Pontius, who is coming
to visit us," added he, after a while. In fact, the procurator, attended
by two slaves, appeared at the turn of the path. He was a man no longer
young; he had an oval face carefully shaven, full of assumed dignity,
and also of suffering and care.
"A greeting to thee, noble Cinna, and to thee, divine Antea!" said he,
as he came under the shade of the pistachio-tree. "After a cold night
the day has grown hot. May it favor you both, and may the health of
Antea bloom like those hyacinths and those apple-tree twigs, which adorn
her litter."
"Peace be with thee, and be greeted!" answered Cinna.
The procurator seated himself on a piece of rock, looked at Antea,
frowned imperceptibly, and answered,--
"Loneliness produces sadness and sickness; but in the midst of crowds
there is no place for fear, hence I will give one advice to thee.
Unfortunately this is neither Antioch nor Cæsarea; there are no games
here, no horse-races; and were we to erect a circus, those madmen would
tear it down the next day. Here thou wilt hear nothing but this phrase,
'the law,' and everything disturbs that law. I would rather be in
Scythia."
"Of what dost thou wish to speak, O Pilate?"
"Indeed, I have wandered from my subject; but cares are the cause of
this. I have said that among crowds there is no room for fear. Now ye
can have a spectacle to-day. In Jerusalem, ye should be amused with
something; above all, Antea should be in the midst of crowds at midday.
Three men will die on the cross to-day; that is better than nothing!
Because of the Pasch a mob of the strangest ruffians has come from out
all this land to the city. Ye can look at those people. I will command
to give you a place apart near the crosses. I hope that the condemned
will die bravely. One of them is a marvellous person: he calls himself
the Son of God; he is as mild as a dove, and has really done nothing to
merit death."
"And didst thou condemn him to the cross?"
"I wanted to rid myself of trouble, and also avoid stirring up that nest
of hornets that buzz around the temple; even as it is, they send
complaints to Rome against me. Besides, the accused is not a Roman
citizen."
"The man will not suffer less for that reason."
The procurator made no answer, but after a while he began to speak, as
if to himself,--
"There is one thing that I do not like,--exaggeration. Whoever uses that
word before me takes away my cheerfulness for the day. The golden mean!
that is what wisdom commands us to follow, as I think. And there is not
a corner of the world in which that principle is less respected than
here. How all this tortures me! how it tortures me! In nothing is there
repose, in nothing balance,--neither in men nor in nature. At present,
for example, it is spring; the nights are cold; but during the day there
is such heat that it is difficult to walk on stones. It is long yet till
midday, and see what is happening! Of the people--better not speak! I am
here, because I must be here. Never mind that! I might leave my subject
a second time. Go to witness the crucifixion. I am convinced that that
Nazarene will die valiantly. I gave command to flog him, thinking in
that way to save him from death. I am not cruel. When he was lashed he
was as patient as a lamb, and he blessed the people. When he was covered
with blood, he raised his eyes and prayed. That is the most marvellous
person that I have seen in my life. My wife has not given me a moment
of peace because of him. 'Permit not the death of that innocent man!'
this is what she has been dinning into my ears since daybreak. I wanted
to save him. Twice I went to the bema and spoke to those priests and
that mangy rabble. They answered in one voice, raising their heads and
opening their jaws to the ears, 'Crucify him!'"
"Didst thou yield to them?" asked Cinna.
"I did, for in the city there would be mobs, and I am here to keep
peace. I must do my duty. I dislike exaggeration, and, besides, I am
mortally wearied; but when I undertake a thing, I do not hesitate to
sacrifice the life of one man for the general welfare, especially when
he is an unknown person whom no one will mention. All the worse for him
that he is not a Roman."
"The sun shines not on Rome alone," whispered Antea.
"Divine Antea," answered the procurator, "I might answer that on the
whole round of the earth the sun shines on Roman rule; therefore for the
good of that rule it is proper to sacrifice everything, and disturbances
undermine our authority. But, above all, I beg of thee not to ask me to
change the sentence. Cinna will tell thee that that cannot be, and that,
once sentence is pronounced, Cæsar alone can change it. Though I wished,
I have not the power to change. Is that not the case, Caius?"
"It is."
But those words caused Antea evident pain, for she said, thinking of
herself, perhaps,--
"Then it is possible to suffer and die without being guilty."
"No one is without guilt," answered Pontius. "This Nazarene has
committed no crime; hence I, as procurator, washed my hands. But as a
man, I condemn his teaching. I conversed with him purposely rather long,
wishing to test the man, and convinced myself that he announces
monstrous things. The case is difficult! The world must stand on sound
sense. Who denies that virtue is needed? Certainly not I. But even the
Stoics only teach men to endure opposition with calmness; they do not
insist that we should renounce everything, from our property to our
dinner. Answer, Cinna,--thou art a man of sound judgment,--what wouldst
thou think of me were I, neither from one cause nor another, to bestow
this house in which thou art dwelling on those tattered fellows who warm
themselves in the sun at the Joppa gate? And he insists on just such
things. Besides, he says that we should love all equally: the Jews as
well as the Romans themselves, the Romans as the Egyptians, the
Egyptians as the Africans, and so on. I confess that I have had enough
of this. At the moment when his life is in peril, he bears himself as if
the question were of some one else; he teaches--and prays. It is not my
duty to save a man who has no care for his own safety. Whoso does not
know how to preserve measure in anything is not a man of judgment.
Moreover, he calls himself the Son of God, and disturbs the foundations
on which society rests, and therefore harms people. Let him think what
he likes in his soul, if he will not raise disturbance. As a man, I
protest against his teaching. If I do not believe in the gods, let us
concede that it is my affair. Still I recognize the use of religion, and
I declare so publicly, for I judge that religion is a curb on people.
Horses must be harnessed, and harnessed securely. Finally, death should
not be terrible to that Nazarene, for he declares that he will rise from
the dead."
Cinna and Antea looked at each other with amazement.
"That he will rise from the dead?"
"Neither more nor less; after three days. So at least his disciples
declare. I forgot to ask him myself. For that matter, it is all one,
since death liberates a man from promises. And even should he not rise
from the dead, he will lose nothing, since, according to his teaching,
genuine happiness and eternal life begin only after death. He speaks of
this, indeed, as a man perfectly certain. In his Hades it is brighter
than in the world under the sun, and whoso suffers more in this world
will enter that with greater certainty; he must only love, and love, and
love."
"A wonderful doctrine," said Antea.
"And these people here cry to thee, 'Crucify him!'?" inquired Cinna.
"And I do not even wonder at this, for hatred is the soul of this
people, for what, if not hatred, can demand that love be crucified?"
Antea rubbed her forehead with her emaciated hand.
"And is he certain that it is possible to live and be happy after
death?"
"That is why neither the cross nor death terrify him."
"How good that would be, Caius!"
"How does he know this?" inquired she, after a while.
The procurator waved his hand: "He says that he knows it from the Father
of all, who for the Jews is the same as Jove for us, with this
difference, that, according to the Nazarene, the Father alone is one and
merciful."
"How good that would be, Caius!" repeated the sick woman.
Cinna opened his lips as if to make some answer, but remained silent;
and the conversation stopped. Evidently Pontius was continuing to think
of the strange doctrine of the Nazarene, for he shook his head and
shrugged his shoulders repeatedly. At last he rose and began to take
leave.
All at once Antea said,--
"Caius, let us go to look at that Nazarene."
"Hasten," said Pilate, as he was going away; "the procession will move
soon."