THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Dr. Waldemar Westergaard
 
 BAR ABB AS 
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 
 
 BY 
 
 MARIE CORELLI 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 'VENDETTA!" "A ROMANCE OF Two WORLDS," "ARDATH," ETC., ETC. 
 
 "And they consulted how they might take him by 
 ubtilty." ST. MATT. xxvi. v. 4 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
 1896
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1893, 
 
 BY 
 |. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 
 
 ElECTROTVPED AND PRINTED BY J. B. LlPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.
 
 " And they had then a notable prisoner called Barabbas." 
 Matthew xxvii. v. 16. 
 
 " One named Barabbas which lay bound with them that had 
 made insurrection with him." Mark xv. v. 7. 
 
 "Barabbas, who for a certain sedition made in the city and 
 for murder was cast into prison." Luke xxiii. v. 18, 19. 
 
 " Now Barabbas was a robber."; John xviii. v. 40.
 
 BARABBAS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A LONG sultry Syrian day was drawing near its close. 
 
 The heavy heat was almost insupportable, and a poisonous 
 stench oozed up from the damp earth-floors of the Jewish 
 prison, charging what little air there was with a deadly sense 
 of suffocation. Down in the lowest dungeons complete dark- 
 ness reigned, save in one of the cells allotted to the worst 
 criminals ; there, all through the slow hours a thin white line 
 of light had persistently pierced the thick obscurity. It was 
 the merest taper-flame reflection of the outside glowing East- 
 ern sky, yet narrow as it was, it had vexed the eyes of the 
 solitary prisoner on whom it fell, and he had turned from its 
 hot flash with a savage curse and groan. Writhing back as 
 far as his chains would allow, he covered his face with his 
 manacled hands, pressing his eyelids down, and gnawing his 
 lips in restless fury till his mouth was bitter with the taste of 
 his own blood. He was seized with such impotent rages 
 often. He mentally fought against that poignant light-beam 
 cutting like a sword through deep darkness, he regarded it 
 as a positive foe and daily source of nervous irritation. It 
 marked for him the dismal time, when it shone he knew 
 it was day, when it vanished, it was night. Otherwise, 
 whether minutes or hours passed, he could not tell. His 
 existence had merged into one protracted phase of dull suffer- 
 ing, varied with occasional fits of maniac ferocity which only 
 relieved him for the moment and left him more stupefied and 
 brutish than before. He had no particular consciousness of 
 anything except of that needle-pointed ray which, falling 
 obliquely upon him, dazzled and hurt his eyes. He could 
 have endured the glare of the Syrian sun in the free and 
 open country, no one better than he could have turned a 
 1* 6
 
 6 BARABBAS 
 
 bold gaze to its amber flame radiating tbrougb the vast blue 
 dome of ether, but here and now, that thin shaft of bright- 
 ness pouring slantwise through the narrow slit in the wall 
 which alone served as an air-passage to the foul den in which 
 he was caged seemed an aggression and a mockery. He made 
 querulous complaint of it, and huddling on his bed of dirty 
 straw in the furthest darkness refreshed himself anew with 
 curses. Against God and Fate and man he railed in thick- 
 throated blasphemies, twisting and turning from side to side 
 and clutching now and again in sheer ferocity at the straw on 
 which he lay. He was alone, yet not altogether lonely, for 
 close beside him where he crouched like a sullen beast in the 
 corner there was a crossed grating of thick iron bars, the only 
 air-aperture to the neighbouring cell, and through this there 
 presently came a squat grimy hand. After feeling about for 
 a while, this hand at last found and cautiously pulled the edge 
 of his garment, and a faint hoarse voice called him by name. 
 
 " Barabbas !" 
 
 He turned with a swift savage movement that set his chains 
 clanking dismally. 
 
 " What now ?" 
 
 "They have forgotten us," whined the voice. "Since 
 early morning they have brought no food. I am perishing 
 with hunger and thirst ! Ah, I would I had never seen thy 
 face, Barabbas, or had aught to do with thine evil plotting 1" 
 
 Barabbas made no answer. 
 
 " Knowest thou not," went on his invisible fellow-felon, 
 " what season this is in the land ?" 
 
 "How should I know!" retorted Barabbas disdainfully. 
 " What are seasons to me ? Is it a year or years since we 
 were brought hither? If thou can'st tell, I cannot." 
 
 " 'Tis eighteen months since thou did'st slay the Pharisee," 
 replied his neighbour with marked malignity of accent, 
 " And had it not been for that wicked deed of thine, we 
 might have missed this present wretchedness. Verily it is a 
 marvel we have lived so long, for look you, now it is Pass- 
 
 Barabbas uttered no word, either of surprise or interest. 
 
 " Reraemberest thou the custom of the Feast?" pursued 
 
 the speaker, " How that one captive chosen by the people 
 
 shall be set at liberty? Would that it might be one of us, 
 
 (arabbas ! There were ten of our company ,ten as goodly 
 
 nen as ever were born in Judaea, always excepting thee.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 7 
 
 For thou wert mad for love, and a frenzied lover is the worst 
 of fools." 
 
 Barabbas still kept silence. 
 
 " If innocence hath any merit," continued the voice behind 
 the grating anxiously, " then perchance the choice will fall 
 on me ! For am I not an innocent man ? The God of my 
 fathers knoweth that my hands are not stained with the blood 
 of the virtuous ; I slew no Pharisee ! A little gold was all I 
 sought" 
 
 " And did'st thou not take it ?" rejoined Barabbas suddenly 
 and with scorn, " Thou hypocrite ! Did'st thou not rob the 
 Pharisee of all he had upon him even to his last jewel ? Did 
 not the guard capture thee in the very act of breaking with 
 thy teeth the gold band from his arm ere the breath left his 
 body ? Cease thy prating ! Thou art the worst thief in 
 Jerusalem and thou knowest it !" 
 
 There was a sound behind the bars as of something between 
 a grunt and a snarl, and the squat hand thrust itself through 
 with vicious suddenness, to be as suddenly withdrawn. A 
 pause ensued. 
 
 " No food all day !" moaned the voice again presently 
 " And not a drop of water ! Surely if they come not I shall 
 die ! I shall die in this darkness, this dense pitch black- 
 ness" and the faint accents grew feebly shrill with fear 
 "Dost thou hear me, thou accursed Barabbas? I shall 
 die!" 
 
 " And so there will be an end of thee," returned Barabbas 
 indifferently "And those who hoard gold in the city can 
 sleep safely henceforth with open doors !" 
 
 Out came the ugly hand again, this time clenched, giving 
 in its repulsive shape and expression a perfect idea of the 
 villainous character of its unseen owner. 
 
 " Thou art a devil, Barabbas!" and the shadowy outline 
 of a livid face and wild hair appeared for an instant against 
 the grating " And I swear to thee I will live on, if only in 
 the hope of seeing thee crucified !" 
 
 Barabbas held his peace, and dragged himself and his 
 clanking chains away from his spiteful fellow-prisoner's vicinity. 
 Lifting his eyes distrustfully he peered upward with a smart- 
 ing sense of pain, then heaved a deep sigh of relief as he 
 saw that the burning arrow line of white radiance no longer 
 lit the cell. It had changed to a beam of soft and dusky 
 crimson.
 
 g BARABBAS 
 
 Sunset !" he muttered. " How many times hath the sun 
 gone down and risen since I beheld her last ! This is the 
 hour she loves, she will go with her maidens to the well 
 behind her father's house, and underneath the palm-trees she 
 will rest and rejoice, while I, I, God of vengeance ! 
 I may never look upon her face again. Eighteen months 
 of torture 1 Eighteen months in this tomb and no hope of 
 respite !' ' 
 
 With a savage gesture he rose and stood upright ; his 
 head almost touched the dungeon ceiling and he stepped 
 warily, the heavy fetters on his bare legs jangling harshly as 
 he moved. Placing one foot on a notch in the wall he was 
 able to bring his eyes easily on a level with the narrow aper- 
 ture through which the warm fire-glow of the sunset fell, but 
 there was little to be seen from such a point of observation. 
 Only a square strip of dry uncultivated land belonging to the 
 prison, and one solitary palm-tree lifting its crown of feathery 
 leaves against the sky. He stared out for a moment, fancy- 
 ing he could discern the far-off hazy outline of the hills sur- 
 rounding the city, then, too faint with long fasting to retain 
 his footing, he slipped back and returned to his former corner. 
 There he sat, glowering darkly at the rose-light reflected on 
 the floor. It partially illumined his own features, bringing 
 into strong prominence his scowling brows and black resent- 
 ful eyes, it flashed a bright life-hue on his naked chest that 
 heaved with the irregular and difficult breath of one who 
 fights against long exhaustion and hunger-pain, and it glit- 
 tered with a sinister coppery tint on the massive iron gyves 
 that bound his wrists together. He looked much more like a 
 caged wild beast than a human being, with his matted hair 
 and rough beard, he was barely clothed, his only garment 
 being a piece of sackcloth which was kept about his loins by 
 means of a coarse black rope, twisted twice and loosely knot- 
 ted. The heat in the cell was intense, yet he shivered now 
 and then as he crouched in the stifling gloom, his knees 
 drawn nearly up to his chin, and his shackled hands resting 
 on his knees, while he stared with an owl-like pertinacity at 
 the crimson sunbeam which with every second grew paler and 
 dimmer. At first it had been an ardent red, as red as the 
 blood of a slain Pharisee, thought Barabbas with a dark 
 smile, hut now it had waned to a delicate wavering pink 
 like the fleeting blush of a fair woman, and a great shudder 
 cized him as this latter fancy crossed his sick and sulleD
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 9 
 
 mind. With a smothered cry he clenched his hands hard as 
 though assailed by some unendurable physical pang. 
 
 "Judith! Judith!" he whispered, and yet again "Ju- 
 dith!" 
 
 And trembling violently, he turned and hid his face, press- 
 ing his forehead close against the damp and slimy wall. Aud 
 thus he remained, motionless, his massive figure looking 
 like a weird Titanesque shape carved in stone. 
 
 The last red flicker from the sunken sun soon faded and 
 dense darkness fell. Not a sound or movement betrayed the 
 existence of any human creature in that noxious gloom. 
 Now and again the pattering feet of mice scurrying swiftly 
 about the floor made a feeble yet mysterious clamour, other- 
 wise, all was intensely still. Outside, the heavens were put- 
 ting on all their majesty; the planets swam into the purple 
 ether, appearing to open and shine like water-lilies on a lake, 
 in the east a bar of silvery cloud showed where the moon 
 would shortly rise, and through the window slit of the dun- 
 geon one small star could be just discerned, faintly glittering. 
 But not even an argent ray flung slantwise from the moon 
 when at last she ascended the skies could illumine the dense 
 thicket of shadows that gathered in that dreary cell, or touch 
 with a compassionate brightness the huddled form of the 
 wretched captive within. Invisible and solitary, he wrestled 
 with his own physical and mental misery, unconscious that 
 the wall against which he leaned was warm and wet with 
 tears, the painful tears, worse than the shedding of blood, 
 of a strong man's bitter agony. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOURS passed, and presently the heavy silence was 
 broken by a distant uproar, a hollow sound like the sudden 
 inrush of a sea, which began afar off, and gathered strength 
 as it came. Rolling onward and steadily increasing in volume, 
 it appeared to split itself into a thousand angry echoes close 
 by the dungeon walls, and a confused tumult of noisy tongues 
 arose, mingling with the hurried and disorderly tramping of 
 many feet and the clash of weapons. Voices argued hoarsely, 
 there were shrill whistlings, and now and then the flare
 
 10 BARABBAS 
 
 of tossing torches cast a fitful fire-gleam into the den where 
 Barabbas lay. Once a loud laugh rang out above the more 
 indistinct hubbub followed by a shout 
 
 " Prophesy ! Prophesy I Who is he that smote thee ?" 
 
 And the laughter became general, merging itself swiftly 
 into a frantic chorus of yells and groans and hisses. Then 
 came a brief pause, in which some of the wilder noises 
 ceased, and an angry disputation seemed to be going on be- 
 tween two or three individuals in authority, till presently the 
 ocean-like roar and swell of sound recommenced, passed slowly 
 on, and began to die away like gradually diminishing peals of 
 thunder. But while it remained yet within distinct hearing, 
 there was a slow dragging of chains inside the dungeon and 
 a feeble beating of manacled hands at the interior grating, 
 and the voice that had called before now called again : 
 
 " Barabbas !" 
 
 No answer was returned. 
 
 " Barabbas ! Hearest thou the passing multitude?" 
 
 Still silence. 
 
 " Barabbas ! Dog ! Assassin 1" and the speaker dealt an 
 angry blow with his two fists at the dividing bars, " Art 
 thou deaf to good news? I tell thee there is some strife in 
 the city, some new sedition, it may be that our friends 
 have conquered where we have failed ! Down with the law I 
 Down with the tyrant and oppressor 1 Down with the Phar- 
 isees ! Down with everything !" And he laughed, his 
 laughter being little more than a hoarse whisper, " Barab- 
 bas ! We shall be free ! Free ! think of it, thou villain 1 
 A thousand curses on thee ! Art thou dead or sleeping that 
 thou wilt not answer me ?" 
 
 But he exhausted his voice in vain, and vainly beat his fists 
 against the grating. Barabbas was mute. The moonlight, 
 grown stronger, pierced the gloom of his cell with a silvery 
 radiance which blurred objects rather than illumined them, 
 so that the outline of his figure could scarcely be discerned 
 by his fellow-captive who strove to see him through the bars 
 of the lower dungeon. Meanwhile the noise of the crowd in 
 the streets outside had retreated into the distance, and only a 
 faint murmur arose from time to time like the far-off surge 
 of waves on a rocky shore. 
 
 " Barabbas 1 Barabbas 1" and the vexed weak voice grew 
 suddenly loud with an access of spite and fury " An' thou 
 wilt not respond to good tidings thou shalt listen to evil 1
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY U 
 
 Hear me ! hear thy friend Hanan, who knows the wicked 
 ways of women better than thou ! Why did'st thou kill the 
 Pharisee, thou fool ? 'Twas wasted pains, for his boast was 
 a true one, and thy Judith is a" 
 
 The opprobrious term he meant to use was never uttered, 
 for with a sudden spring, fierce and swift as that of an en- 
 raged lion leaping from its lair, the hitherto inert Barabbas 
 was upon him, clutching at the two hands he had thrust 
 through the grating to support himself, and squeezing and 
 bending them against the bars with a terrific ferocity that 
 threatened to snap the wrists asunder. 
 
 " Accursed Hanan ! Dog ! Breathe but her name again 
 and I will saw thy robber hands off on this blunt iron and 
 leave thee but the bleeding stumps wherewith to steal 1" 
 
 Face to face in the faintly moonlit gloom, and all but in- 
 visible to one another, they writhed and wrestled a little space 
 with strange impotence and equally strange fury, the chains 
 on their fettered arms clashing against the bars between, till 
 with a savage scream of pain, Hanan tore his maimed fingers 
 and lacerated wrists from the pitiless grasp that crushed them, 
 and fell helplessly downward into the darkness of his own 
 den, while Barabbas flung himself away and back on his bed 
 of straw, breathing hard and heavily, and shuddering through 
 every fibre of his frame. 
 
 " If it were true," he whispered between his set teeth 
 "if it were true, if she were false, if the fair flesh and 
 blood were but a mask for vileness, God ! she would be 
 worse than I, a greater sinner than I have ever been !" 
 
 He buried his head in the hollow of his arm and lay quite 
 still, striving to think out the problem of his own wild nature, 
 his own blind and unbridled passions. It was a riddle too 
 dark and difficult to solve easily, and gradually his mind 
 wandered, and his thoughts began to lose themselves in a 
 dizzy unconsciousness that was almost pleasure after so much 
 pain. His clenched hands relaxed, his breathing became 
 easier, and presently, heaving a deep sigh of exhaustion, he 
 stretched himself out on the straw like a tired hound and 
 slept. 
 
 The night marched on majestically. The moon and her 
 sister planets paced through their glorious circles of harmo- 
 nious light and law ; and from all parts of the earth, prayers 
 in every form and every creed went up to heaven for pity, 
 pardon, and blessing on sinful humanity that had neither
 
 12 BARABBAS 
 
 pity, pardon, nor blessing for itself, till, with a magic sud- 
 denness the dense purple skies changed to a pearly grey, 
 the moon sank pallidly out of sight, the stars were extin- 
 guished one by one like lamps when a feast is ended, and 
 morning began to suggest its approach in the freshening air. 
 But Barabbas still slept. In his sleep he had unconsciously 
 turned his face upward to what glimmering light there was, 
 and a placid smile smoothed the fierce ruggedness of his 
 features. Slumbering thus, it was possible to imagine what 
 this unkempt and savage-looking creature might have been 
 in boyhood ; there was something of grace in his attitude 
 despite his fettered limbs, there were lines of tenderness 
 about his mouth, the curve of which could be just seen through 
 his rough beard ; and there was a certain grave beauty about 
 the broad brow and closed eyelids. Awake, he fully ap- 
 peared to be what he was, a rebellious and impenitent crimi- 
 nal, but in that perfect tranquillity of deep repose he might 
 have passed for a brave man wronged. 
 
 With the first faint light of the dawn, a sudden unwonted 
 stir and noise began in the outer courts of the prison. Ba- 
 rabbas, overpowered by slumber as he was, heard it in a semi- 
 conscious way, without realising what it might mean. But 
 presently, as it grew louder, he opened his eyes reluctantly, 
 and raising himself on one arm, listened. Soon he caught in 
 the distance the sound of clashing weapons and the steady 
 tramp of men, and while he yet wondered, vaguely and 
 sleepily, at the unusual commotion, the clashing and jangling 
 and marching drew nearer and nearer, till it came to an 
 abrupt halt outside his very cell. The key turned in the lock, 
 the huge bolts were thrust back, the door flew open, and 
 such a blaze of light flared in that he put up his hands to 
 shield his eyes as if from a blow. Blinking like a scared owl, 
 he roused himself and struggled into a sitting posture, staring 
 stupidly at what he saw, a group of glittering soldiery 
 headed by an officer who, holding a smoking torch aloft, 
 peered into the drear blackness of the dungeon with a search- 
 ing air of command. 
 
 " Come forth, Barabbas !" 
 
 Barabbas gazed and gazed, dreamily and without apparent 
 comprehension. 
 
 Just then a shrill voice yelled, 
 
 " I, also ! I, Hanan, am innocent! Bring me also before 
 the Tribunal 1 Give me justice ! Barabbas slew the Phari-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 13 
 
 Bee, not I ! The mercy of the Feast for Hanan ! Surely ye 
 will not take Barabbas hence and leave me here?" 
 
 No heed was paid to these clamourings, and the officer 
 merely repeated his command. 
 
 " Come forth, Barabbas !" 
 
 Growing more broadly awake, Barabbas stumbled up on his 
 feet and made an effort to obey, but his heavy chains pre- 
 vented his advance. Perceiving this, the officer gave order 
 to his men, and in a few minutes the impeding fetters were 
 struck off, and the prisoner was immediately surrounded by 
 the guard. 
 
 "Barabbas! Barabbas!" shrieked Hanan within. 
 
 Barabbas paused, looking vaguely at the soldiers who 
 pressed him in their midst. Then he turned his eyes upon 
 their commander. 
 
 " If I go to my death," he said faintly, " I pray thee give 
 yonder man food. He hath starved and thirsted all day and 
 night, and he was once my friend." 
 ,.. The officer surveyed him somewhat curiously. 
 
 "Is that thy last request, Barabbas?" he inquired. "It 
 is Passover, and we will grant thee anything in reason 1" 
 
 He laughed, and his men joined in the laughter. But 
 Barabbas only stared straight ahead, his eyes looking like 
 those of a hunted animal brought to bay. 
 
 " Do thus much for charity," he muttered feebly ; " I have 
 also starved and thirsted, but Hanan is weaker than I." 
 
 Again the officer glanced at him, but this time deigned no 
 answer. Wheeling abruptly round he uttered the word of 
 command, placed himself at the head of his men, and the 
 whole troop, with Barabbas in their centre closely guarded, 
 strode onward and upward out of the dark dungeon precincts 
 to the higher floors of the building. And as they tramped 
 through the stone passages, they extinguished the torches 
 they carried, for the night was past and the morning had
 
 14 BARABBAS 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 MARCHING into the courtyard of the prison, the party 
 halted there, while the heavy gates were being unfastened to 
 allow an exit. Outside was the street, the city, freedom ! 
 and Barabbas, still staring ahead, uttered a hoarse cry and 
 put his manacled hands to his throat as though he were 
 choking. 
 
 "What ails thee?" demanded one of the men nearest 
 him, giving him a dig in the ribs with the hilt of his 
 weapon, " Stand up, fool ! Never tell me that a breath of 
 air can knock thee down like a felled bullock !" 
 
 For Barabbas reeled and would have fallen prone on the 
 ground insensible, had not the soldiers caught at his swaying 
 figure and dragged him up, roughly enough, and with much 
 coarse swearing. But his face had the pallor of death, and 
 through his ragged beard his lips could be seen, livid and 
 drawn apart over his clenched teeth like the lips of a corpse, 
 his breathing was scarcely perceptible. 
 
 The commander of the troop advanced and examined him. 
 
 " The man is starved," he said briefly, " Give him wine." 
 
 This order was promptly obeyed, and wine was held to the 
 mouth of the swooning captive, but his teeth were fast set 
 and he remained unconscious. Drop by drop however, the 
 liquid was ungently forced down his throat, and after a couple 
 of minutes, his chest heaved with the long laboured sighs of 
 returning vitality, and his eyes flashed widely open. 
 
 " Air, air!" he gasped, " The free air, the light" 
 
 He thrust out his chained hands gropingly, and then, with 
 a sudden rush of strength induced by the warmth of the 
 wine, he began to laugh wildly. 
 
 " Freedom 1" he exclaimed, " Freedom 1 To live or die, 
 what matter ! Free ! Free !" 
 
 " Hold thy peace, thou dog!" said the commanding officer 
 sharply " Who told thee thou wert free? Look at thy 
 fettered wrists and be wise 1 Watch him closely, men 1 
 March !" 
 
 The prison-gates fell back on their groaning hinges and 
 the measured 'tramp, tramp of the little troop awakened
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 15 
 
 echoes of metallic music as they defiled across the stony street 
 and passed down a steep flight of steps leading to a subter- 
 ranean passage which directly communicated with the tri- 
 bunal of justice or Hall of Judgment. This passage was a 
 long vaulted way, winding in and out through devious twists 
 and turnings, and was faintly lit up by oil lamps placed in 
 sconces at regular distances, the flickering luminance thus 
 given only making the native darkness of the place more pal- 
 pable. Gloom and imprisonment were as strongly suggested 
 here as in the dungeons left behind, and Barabbas, his 
 heart sickening anew with vain dread, shrank and shivered, 
 stumbling giddily once or twice as he strove to keep pace 
 with the steady march of his escort. Hope died within him ; 
 the flashing idea of liberty that had stirred him to such a 
 sudden rapture of anticipation, now fled like a dream. He 
 was being taken to his death ; of that he felt sure. What 
 mercy could he expect at the hands of the judge by whom 
 he knew he must be tried and condemned ? For was not 
 Pontius Pilate governor of Judaea ? and had not he, Barabbas, 
 slain, in a moment of unthinking fury, one of Pilate's friends ? 
 That accursed Pharisee ! His sleek manner, his self-right- 
 eous smile, his white hand with the glittering blazon of a 
 priceless jewel on the forefinger, and all the trifling details 
 of costume and deportment that went to make up the inso- 
 lent and aggressive personality of the man, these things 
 Barabbas remembered with a thrill of loathing. He could 
 almost see him as he saw him then, before with one fierce 
 stab he had struck him to the earth, dead, and bleeding hor- 
 ribly in the brilliant moonlight, his wide open eyes glaring to 
 the last in dumb and dreadful hate upon his murderer. And 
 a life must always be given for a life ; Barabbas admitted the 
 stern justice of this law. It was only what he knew to be 
 the ordained manner of death for such criminals as he, that 
 caused his nerves to wince with fear and agony. If, like the 
 Pharisee, he could be struck out of existence in a moment, 
 why, that were naught, but to be stretched on beams of 
 wood there to blister for long hours in the pitiless sun, to 
 feel every sinew strained to cracking, and every drop of blood 
 turning first to fire and then to ice, this was enough to 
 make the strongest man shudder ; and Barabbas, weakened 
 by long fasting and want of air, trembled so violently at 
 times that he could scarcely drag his limbs along. His head 
 swam and his eyes smarted ; there were dull noises in his ears
 
 16 B ARABS AS 
 
 caused partly by the surging "blood in his brain, and partly by 
 the echo of a sound which with every onward step grew 
 more distinct, a clamour of angry voices and shouting in 
 the midst of which he fancied he heard his own name, 
 
 " Barabbas ! Barabbas 1" 
 
 Startled, he looked inquiringly into the faces of the soldiers 
 that surrounded him, but their impassive bronze-like features 
 betrayed no intelligence. Vainly he strove to listen more at- 
 tentively, the clanking weapons of his guard and the meas- 
 ured thud of their feet on the stone pavement prevented him 
 from catching the real purport of those distant outcries. Yet 
 surely, surely there was another shout 
 
 " Barabbas ! Barabbas !" 
 
 A sickening horror suddenly seized him, a swift and 
 awful comprehension of his true position. The mob, relent- 
 less in all ages, were evidently clamouring for his death, and 
 were even now preparing to make sport of his torments. 
 Nothing more glorious to a brutal populace than the physical 
 agony of a helpless fellow-creature, nothing more laughter- 
 moving than to watch the despair, the pain, and the writhing 
 last struggle of a miserable human wretch condemned to 
 perish by a needlessly slow and barbarous torture. Thinking 
 of this, great drops of sweat bathed his brow, and as he 
 staggered feebly on, he prayed dumbly for some sudden end, 
 prayed that his hot and throbbing blood might rush in 
 merciful full force to a vital centre of his brain that so he 
 might fall into oblivion swiftly like a stone falling into the 
 sea. Anything anything, rather than face the jeers and 
 the mockery of a pitiless multitude trooping forth as to a 
 feast to see him die ! 
 
 Closer and closer came the hubbub and roar, interspersed 
 with long pauses of comparative stillness, and it was during 
 one of these pauses that his enforced journey came to an end.j 
 Turning sharply round the last corner of the underground, 
 passage, the soldiers tramped out into the daylight, and as- 
 cended several wide marble steps, afterwards crossing an 
 open circular court, empty and cool in the silver-grey hues 
 of early dawn. Finally passing under a columnar arch, they 
 entered a vast Hall, which was apparently divided into two 
 square spaces, one almost clear, save for a few prominent 
 figures that stood forth in statuesque outlines against a back- 
 ground of dark purple hangings fringed with gold, the 
 other densely crowded with people who were only kept from
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 17 
 
 rushing into the judicial precincts by a line of Roman 
 soldiery headed by their centurion. 
 
 On the appearance of Barabbas with his armed escort, 
 heads were turned round and hurried whispers were ex- 
 changed among the crowd, but not one look of actual interest 
 or compassion was bestowed upon him. The people's mind 
 was centred on a far weightier matter. Such a trial was 
 pending as had never yet been heard within the walls of a 
 human tribunal, and such a captive was being questioned as 
 never before gave answer to mortal man. With a sudden 
 sense of relief, Barabbas, stupefied though he was, began 
 dimly to realise that perhaps after all his terrors had been 
 groundless ; there was no sign here, at least, not at present, 
 of his death being wanted to make an extra holiday for the 
 mob, and, infected by the prevailing spirit of intense cusiosity 
 and attention, he craned his neck forward eagerly in order 
 to obtain a view of what was going on. As he did so, the 
 people directly in front of him shrank away in evident 
 aversion, but he paid little heed to this mutely expressed 
 repugnance, as their unanimous recoil made a convenient 
 opening through which he could plainly see the judgment 
 dais and all its imposing surroundings. There were seated 
 several members of the Sanhedrim, several o/ whom he 
 knew by sight, among them the high-priest Caiaphas, and 
 his colleague Annas, a few scribes occupied lower benches 
 and were busily engaged in writing, and among these digni- 
 fied and exalted personages, he perceived, to his astonishment, 
 a little lean, wrinkled, crouching money-changer, a man well 
 known and cursed throughout all Jerusalem for his high 
 rates of usury and cruelty to the poor. How came so mean 
 a villain there ? thought Barabbas wonderingly ; but he could 
 not stop to puzzle out the problem, for the chief person his 
 eyes involuntarily sought for and rested upon was the Roman 
 judge, that very judge of whose stern sad face he had 
 dreamed in the darkness of his dungeon, Pilate the calm, 
 severe, yet at times compassionate arbiter of life and death 
 according to the codes of justice administered in Judaea. 
 Surely to-day he suffered, or was weary ! for did ever legal 
 " tyrant" before look so sick at heart ? In the grey morning 
 light his features seemed to have an almost death-like rigidity 
 and pallor his hand played absently with the jewelled signet 
 depending from his breast, and beneath the falling folds of 
 his robe of office, one sandalled foot beat impatiently upon 
 6 2*
 
 18 BARABBAS 
 
 the floor. Barabbas stared at him in dull fascination and 
 f ear> he did not look a cruel so much as a melancholy man, 
 and yet there was something in his classic profile, and in 
 the firm lines of his thin closely compressed lips that augured 
 little softness of character. What was likely to be his 
 verdict on an assassin who had slain one of his friends? 
 And while Barabbas vaguely pondered this, an irrepressible 
 cry rose up all at once frwm the multitude around him, like 
 the noise of breaking waters roaring in thunderous repeti- 
 tions through the vaulted Hall, 
 
 " Crucify him ! Crucify him !" 
 
 The wild shout was furious and startling, and with, its 
 thrilling clamour, the lethargic torpor that had held Barabbas 
 more or less spell-bound was suddenly dispersed. With a 
 swift shock he came to himself like one roughly shaken from 
 sleep. 
 
 " Crucify him !" 
 
 Crucify whom? Whose life was thus passionately de- 
 manded ? Not his ? No, not his, most surely, for the people 
 scarcely heeded him. Their looks were all turned another 
 way. Then if he were not the offender, who was ? 
 
 Pushing himself yet more to the front, he followed the 
 angry glances of the mob and saw, standing patiently below 
 the judgment-seat one Figure, saw, and seeing, held his 
 breath for very wonderment. For that Figure seemed to 
 absorb into itself all the stateliness, all the whiteness, all the 
 majesty of the lofty and spacious Tribunal, together with all 
 the light that fell glimmeringly through the shining windows, 
 light that now began to form itself into the promise rays 
 of the rising sun. Such radiance, such power, such glorious 
 union of perfect beauty and strength in one human form, 
 Barabbas had never seen or imagined before, and he gazed 
 and gazed till his soul almost lost itself in the mere sense of 
 sight. Like one in a trance he heard himself whisper 
 
 "Who is yonder Man?" 
 
 No one answered. It may be no one heard. And he re- 
 peated the query softly over and over again in his own mind, 
 keeping his eyes fixed on that tall and god-like Being whose 
 sublime aspect seemed to imply an absolute mastery over men 
 and things, but who nevertheless waited there silently in 
 apparent submission to the law, with a slight dreamy smile 
 on the beautiful curved lips, and a patient expression in the 
 down-dropt eyelids, as of one who mutely expected the publio
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 19 
 
 declaration of what he had himself privately decreed. Still 
 as a statue of sunlit marble He stood, erect and calm, His 
 white garments flowing backward from His shoulders in even 
 picturesque folds, thus displaying His bare rounded arms, 
 crossed now on His breast in a restful attitude of resignation, 
 yet in their very inertness suggesting such mighty muscular 
 force as would have befitted a Hercules. Power, grandeur, 
 authority, and invincible supremacy were all silently expressed 
 in His marvellous and incomparable Presence, and while 
 Barabbas still stared, fascinated, awed, and troubled in mind, 
 though he knew not why, the shouts of the populace broke 
 forth again with hoarser reiteration and more impatient fe- 
 rocity, 
 
 " Away with him ! Away with him ! Let him be cruci- 
 fied !" 
 
 And far back from the edge of the crowd, a woman's voice, 
 sweet and shrill and piercing, soared up and rang out with a 
 cruel music over all the deeper uproar, 
 
 " Crucify him 1 Crucify him !" 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE clear vibration of the woman's cry acted like a strange 
 charm to stimulate afresh the already feverish excitement of 
 the people. A frenzied hubbub ensued, shrieks, yells, 
 groans, and hisses filled the air, till the noise became abso- 
 lutely deafening, and Pilate, with an angry and imperious 
 gesture suddenly rose and faced the mob. Advancing to the 
 front of the dais, he lifted up his hand authoritatively to 
 command silence. Gradually the din decreased, dying off in 
 little growling thuds of sound down to a few inaudible mut- 
 terings, though before actual stillness was restored, the sweet 
 soprano voice rang forth again melodiously, broken by a bub- 
 bling ripple of laughter, 
 
 "Crucify him !" 
 
 Barabbas started. That silvery laugh struck to his heart 
 coldly and made him shiver, surely he had heard an echo of 
 such scornful mirth before? It sounded bitterly familiar. 
 Pilate's keen eyes flashed a vain search for the unseen speaker,
 
 20 
 
 BARABBAS 
 
 then, turning towards the people with an air of pacific 
 dignity, he demanded, 
 
 " Why, what evil hath he done ?" 
 
 This simple question was evidently ill-timed, and had a 
 disastrous effect. The sole answer to it was a bellowing roar 
 of derision, a thunderous clamour of wild rage that seemed 
 to shake the very walls of the Tribunal. Men, women, and 
 little children alike joined in the chorus of " Crucify him ! 
 Crucify him 1" and the savage refrain was even caught up by 
 the high-priests, elders, and scribes, who, in their various dis- 
 tinctive costumes and with their several attendants, were 
 grouped behind Pilate on the judgment dais. Pilate heard 
 them, and turned sharply round, a dark frown knitting his 
 brows. Caiaphas, the chief priest, met his eyes with a bland 
 smile, and repeated under his breath "Crucify him!" as 
 though it were a pleasing suggestion. 
 
 " Of a truth it were well he should die the death," mur- 
 mured Annas, his portly colleague, casting a furtive glance at 
 Pilate from under his pale eyelashes ; " The worthy governor 
 seemeth to hesitate, yet verily this traitor is no friend of 
 Caesar's." 
 
 Pilate vouchsafed no answer save a look of supreme and 
 utter scorn. Shrugging his shoulders, he re-seated himself 
 and gazed long and earnestly at the Accused. " What evil 
 hath he done ?" It might have been more justly asked, what 
 evil could He do ? Was there any mark of vileness, any line 
 of treachery on the open beauty of that fair and lustrous 
 Countenance? No. Nobleness and truth were eloquently 
 declared in every feature ; moreover there was something in 
 the silent Presence of the Prisoner that made Pilate tremble, 
 something unspoken yet felt, a vast and vague Mystery 
 that seemed to surround and invest Him with a power all the 
 more terrific because so deeply hidden. And while the 
 troubled procurator studied His calm and dignified bearing, 
 and wondered doubtfully what course it were best to pursue, 
 Barabbas from his coign of vantage stared eagerly in the 
 same direction, growing more and more conscious of an un- 
 usual and altogether wonderful fascination in the aspect of 
 this Man the people sought to slay. And presently his vivid 
 curiosity gave him courage to address one of the soldiers near 
 him. 
 
 "Prithee tell me," said he, "what captive King stands 
 yonder?"
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 21 
 
 The soldier gave a short contemptuous laugh. 
 
 " King ! Ay, ay ! He calls himself King of the Jews, 
 a sorry jest, for which his life will pay forfeit. He is 
 naught but a carpenter's son, known as Jesus of Nazareth. 
 He hath stirred up rebellion, and persuadeth the mob to dis- 
 obey law. Moreover he consorteth with the lowest rascals, 
 thieves and publicans and sinners. He hath a certain skill 
 in conjuring; the people say he can disappear suddenly when 
 most sought for. But he made no attempt to disappear last 
 night, for we trapped him easily, close by Gethsemane. One 
 of his own followers betrayed him. Some there be who deem 
 him mad, some say he hath a devil. Devil or no, he is 
 caught at last and must surely die." 
 
 Barabbas heard in incredulous amazement. That royal- 
 looking Personage a carpenter's son? a common working- 
 man, and one of the despised Nazarenes? No, no! it was 
 not possible ! Then, by degrees he began to remember that 
 before he, Barabbas, had been cast into prison for robbery 
 and murder, there had been strange rumours afloat in the 
 country of Judaea, concerning one Jesus, a miracle-worker, 
 who went about healing the sick and the infirm, giving sight 
 to the blind, and preaching a new religion to the poor. It 
 was even asserted that He had on one occasion raised a man 
 named Lazarus from the dead after three days' burial in the 
 ground, but this astounding report was promptly suppressed 
 and contradicted by certain scribes in Jerusalem who made 
 themselves generally responsible for the current news. The 
 country people were known to be ignorant and superstitious, 
 and any one possessing what was called " the gift of healing" 
 in provinces where all manner of loathsome physical evils 
 abounded, could obtain undue and almost supernatural influ- 
 ence over the miserable and down-trodden inhabitants. Yet 
 surely if this Man were He of whom rumour had spoken, 
 then there seemed no reason to doubt the truth of the miracu- 
 lous powers attributed to Him. He was Himself an em- 
 bodied Miracle. And what were His powers actually ? Much 
 had been said concerning the same Jesus of Nazareth of 
 which Barabbas had no distinct recollection. His eighteen 
 months of imprisonment had obliterated many things from 
 his memory, and what he had chiefly brooded upon in his 
 dreary dungeon had been his own utter misery, and the tor- 
 turing recollection of one fair woman's face. Now, strange 
 to say, he could find no room for any thought at all, save the
 
 22 BARABBAS 
 
 impending fate of Him on whom Ms eyes were fixed. And 
 as he looked, it seemed to him that all suddenly the judgment- 
 hall expanded hugely and swam round in a circle of oright 
 flame through which he saw that angelic white Figure shine 
 forth with a thousand radiations of lightning-like glory ! A 
 faint cry of terror broke from his lips, 
 
 "No, no!" he stammered "No, I tell you! You can- 
 not, you dare not crucify Him ! Yonder is a Spirit ! . . . 
 no man ever looked so ... He is a god ! " 
 
 As he uttered the word, one of the Roman soldiers hearing, 
 turned and struck him fiercely on the mouth with his steel 
 gauntlet. 
 
 " Fool, be silent ! Wilt thou too be one of his disciples ?" 
 
 Wincing with pain, Barabbas strove to wipe the trickling 
 blood from his lips with his fettered hands, and as he did so, 
 caught a straight full look from the so-called Jesus of Naza- 
 reth. The pity and the tenderness of that look pierced him 
 to the soul ; no living being had ever given him a glance so 
 instantly comprehensive and sympathetic. With a quick 
 reckless movement, he thrust himself more to the front of 
 the crowd to gain a closer view of One who could so gently 
 regard him. A passionate impulse of gratitude moved him 
 to rush across the whole width of the hall, and fling himself 
 in all his rough brute strength in front of this new-found 
 Friend to serve as a human buckler of defence in case of 
 need. But bristling weapons guarded him, and he was too 
 closely surrounded for escape. Just at that moment, one of 
 the scribes, a tall lean man in sober-coloured raiment, rose 
 from his place in the semi-circle of priests and elders grouped 
 on the judicial platform, and, unfolding a parchment scroll, 
 began to read in a monotonous voice the various heads of the 
 indictment against the Accused. These had been hastily 
 summed up by the Sanhedrim, during the brief trial which 
 had taken place in the house of Caiaphas the high-priest on 
 the previous evening. A great stillness now reigned in lieu 
 of the previous uproar ; a deep hush of suspense and atten- 
 tion, in which the assembled mob seemed to wait and pant 
 with expectation, as a crouching beast waits and pants for its 
 anticipated prey. Pilate listened frowningly, one hand cover- 
 ing his eyes. During the occasional pauses in the scribe's 
 reading, the noise of traffic in the outside stony streets made 
 itself distinctly audible, and once the sound of a little child's 
 Voice singing came floating merrily upward like the echo of
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 23 
 
 a joy-bell. The skies were changing rapidly from pearl-grey 
 hues to rose and daffodil ; the sun was high above the hori- 
 zon, but its light had not yet found a way through the lofty 
 windows of the judgment-hall. It beamed on the crowd be- 
 yond the barrier with iridescent flashes of colour, now flash- 
 ing on a red erchief tying up a woman's hair, or on the 
 glittering steel corslet of a Roman soldier, while the Tribunal 
 itself was left in cold and unillumined whiteness, relieved only 
 by the velvet hangings pertaining to it, which in their sombre 
 purple tint suggested the falling folds of a funeral pall. 
 
 The reading of the indictment finished, Pilate still remained 
 silent for some minutes. Then, lifting his hand from his 
 eyes, he surveyed, somewhat satirically, his companions in 
 authority. 
 
 " Ye have brought me this man as one that perverteth the 
 people," he said slowly. " What accusation bring ye against 
 him ?" 
 
 Caiaphas, and Annas, who was then vice-president of the 
 Sanhedrim, exchanged wondering and half indignant glances. 
 Finally Caiaphas, with an expression of offended dignity, 
 looked around appealingly upon his compeers. 
 
 "Surely ye have all heard the indictment," he said, "And 
 the worthy governor's question seemeth but vain in this mat- 
 ter. What need we of further witnesses ? If yonder man 
 were not a malefactor would we have brought him hither? 
 He hath blasphemed ; for last night we did solemnly adjure 
 him in the name of the living God, to declare unto us 
 whether he were the Christ, the Son of the Blessed, and he 
 answered boldly and said ' / am I And hereafter ye shall see 
 the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of Power and coming 
 in the clouds of heaven!' What think ye? Is he not 
 worthy of death?" 
 
 An emphatic murmur of assent went round the semi-circle 
 of the priests and elders. But Pilate gave a gesture of con- 
 tempt and flung himself restlessly back on the judgment-seat. 
 
 "Ye talk in parables, and do perplex the ends of justice. 
 If he himself saith he is the Son of Man, how do ye make 
 him out to be the Son of God?" 
 
 Caiaphas flushed an angry red, and was about to make 
 some retort, but on a moment's reflection, suppressed his feel- 
 ings and proceeded, smiling cynically 
 
 " Of a truth thou art in merciful mood, Pilate, and thine 
 Emperor will not blame thee for too much severity of rule !
 
 24 ' BARABBAS 
 
 In our law, the sinner that blasphemeth shall surely die. 
 Yet if blasphemy be not a crime in thy judgment, what of 
 treason ? Witnesses there are who swear that this man hath 
 said it is not lawful to give tribute unto Caesar ; moreover he 
 is an evil boaster, for he hath arrogantly declared that he will 
 destroy the Holy Temple. Yea verily, even unto the Holy 
 of Holies itself, he saith he will destroy, so that not one stone 
 shall remain upon another, and in three days, without the 
 help of hands, he will build up a new and greater tabernacle ! 
 Such mad ranting doth excite the minds of the populace to 
 rebellion, moreover he deceiveth the eyes of the vulgar and 
 uninstracted by feigning to perform great miracles when all 
 is but trickery and dissimulation. Finally, he hath entered 
 Jerusalem in state as a King ;" here he turned to his col- 
 league in office " Thou, Annas, can' st speak of this, for thou 
 wert present when the multitude passed by." 
 
 Annas, thus appealed to, moved a little forward, pressing 
 his hands together, and casting down his pale-coloured treach- 
 erous eyes with a deferential air of apologetic honesty. 
 
 " Truly it would seem that a pestilence in this man's shape 
 doth walk abroad to desolate and disaffect the province," said 
 he, " For I myself beheld the people, when this traitor en- 
 tered the city by the road of Bethphage and Bethany, rush 
 forth to meet him with acclamations, strewing palm-branches, 
 olive-boughs, and even their very garments in his path, as 
 though he were a universal conqueror of men.* And shouts 
 of triumph rent the air, for the multitude received him both 
 as prophet and king, crying ' Hosanna ! Blessed is he that 
 cometh in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest? 
 Whereat I marvelled greatly, and being troubled in^ mind, 
 returned unto Caiaphas to tell him straightway those things 
 which I had seen and heard concerning the strange frenzy of 
 the mob which of a surety is dangerous to the maintenance of 
 law and order. 'Tis an unseemly passion of the vulgar to 
 thus salute with royal honour one of the accursed Nazarenes." 
 
 "Is he in truth a Nazarene?" inquired one of the elders 
 suddenly, with a dubious air, " I have heard it said that 
 he was born in Bethlehem of Judaea, and that the late King 
 Herod was told of certain marvels at his birth" 
 
 " An idle rumour," interrupted Annas hastily ; " We took 
 him before the tetrarch yesternight, where, had he chosen, he 
 could have made his own defence. For Herod asked him 
 many questions wlriih he could not or would not answer, till
 
 A DREAM. OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 25 
 
 the noble tetrarch's patience failing, he sent him on to Pilate 
 to be sentenced. He is known to be of Nazareth, for his 
 parents have their home and calling in the village so named." 
 
 Pilate listened, but said nothing. He was ill at ease. The 
 statements of Caiaphas and Annas seemed to him a mere 
 babble of words without meaning. He was entirely opposed 
 to the members of the Sanhedrim ; he knew they were men 
 who chiefly sought their own interest and advancement, and 
 he also knew that the real cause of their having denounced 
 the so-called " prophet of Nazareth," was fear, fear of 
 having their theories shaken, their laws questioned, and their 
 authority over the people denied. He saw in the dignified 
 Prisoner before him, one, who, whatever He was, or wherever 
 He came from, evidently thought for Himself. Nothing 
 more terrorising to sacerdotal tyranny than liberty of thought ! 
 nothing more dangerous than freedom of conscience and 
 indifference to opinion ! Pilate himself was afraid, but not 
 with the same dread as that which affected the Jewish priests, 
 his misgivings were vague and undefined, and all the more 
 difficult to overcome. He was strangely reluctant to even 
 look at the " Nazarene," whose tall and radiant form appeared 
 to shine with an inward and supernatural light amid the cold 
 austerity of the judicial surroundings, and he kept his eyes 
 down, fixed on the floor, the while he hesitatingly pondered 
 his position. But time pressed, the Sanhedrim council were 
 becoming impatient, he was at last compelled to act and to 
 speak, and slowly turning round in his chair he fully con- 
 fronted the Accused, who at the same instant lifted His noble 
 head and met the anxious, scrutinising regard of His judge 
 with an open look of fearless patience and infinite tenderness. 
 Meeting that look, Pilate trembled, but anon, forcing him- 
 self to assume an air of frigid composure, he spoke aloud in 
 grave authoritative accents : 
 
 " Answerest thon nothing? Hearest thou not how many 
 things are witnessed against thee ? ' 
 
 Then and only then, the hitherto immovable white-robed 
 Figure stirred, and advancing with slow and regal grace, 
 approached Pilate more nearly, still looking at him. One 
 bright ray of the risen sun fell slantingly through a side- 
 window and glistened star-like on the bronze-gold of the rich 
 hair that clustered in thick waves upon His brow, and as He 
 kept His shining eyes upon His judge, He smiled serenely 
 even as one who pardons a sin before hearing its confession.
 
 26 BARABBAS 
 
 But no word passed His lips. Pilate recoiled, an icy cold 
 chilled the blood in his veins, involuntarily he rose, and fell 
 back step by step, grasping at the carved gold projections of 
 his judicial throne to steady his faltering limbs, for there was 
 something in the quiet onward gliding of that snowy-gar- 
 mented Shape that filled his soul with dread, and suggested 
 to his mind old myths and legends of the past, when Deity 
 appearing suddenly to men, had consumed them in a breath 
 with the lightning of great glory. And that one terrific 
 moment while he stood thus face to face with the Divine Ac- 
 cused seemed to him an eternity. It was a never-to-be-for- 
 gotten space of time in which all his life, past and present, 
 appeared reflected as a landscape is reflected in a drop of dew, 
 moreover, the premonition of a future, dark and desolate, 
 loomed indistinctly upon his mind, like a shadow on the hori- 
 zon. All unconsciously to himself his countenance paled to 
 a ghastly haggardness, and scarcely knowing what he did, he 
 raised his hands appealingly as though to avert some great 
 and crushing blow. The learned Jews who were grouped 
 around him stared at his terror-stricken attitude in wonder- 
 ment, and exchanged glances of vexation and dismay, while 
 one of the elders, a dark- eyed crafty- visaged man, leaned for- 
 ward hastily and touched him on the shoulder, saying in a 
 low tone 
 
 "What ails thee, Pilate? Surely thou art smitten with 
 palsy, or some delusion numbs thy senses ! Hasten, we be- 
 seech thee, to pronounce sentence, for the hours wear on 
 apace, and at this season of the Passover, 'twere well and 
 seemly that thou should'st give the multitude their will. 
 What is this malefactor unto thee ? Let him be crucified, 
 for he is guilty of treason, since he calls himself a King. 
 Full well thou knowest we have no King but Caesar, yet 
 yonder fellow boldly saith he is King of the Jews. Ques- 
 tion him, whether or no he hath not thus boasted falsely of 
 power !" 
 
 Pilate gazed round at his adviser bewilderedly, he felt as 
 though he were entangled in the mazes of an evil dream 
 where demons whispered dark hints of unworded crimes. 
 Sick and cold to the very heart, he. yet realised that he must 
 make an effort to interrogate the Prisoner as he was bidden, 
 and, moistening his parched lips, he at last succeeded in 
 enunciating the necessary query, albeit his accents were so 
 faint and husky as to be scarcely audible.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 27 
 
 "Art thou the King of the Jews .*" 
 
 An intense silence followed. Then a full, penetrating 
 Voice, sweeter than sweetest music, stirred the air. 
 
 " Sayest thou this thing of thyself, or did others tell it thee 
 of me?" 
 
 Pilate's face flushed, and his hand grasped the back of his 
 chair convulsively. He gave a gesture of impatience, and 
 answered abruptly, yet tremulously, 
 
 " Am I a Jew f TJiine own nation and the chief priests 
 have delivered thee unto me ; what hast thou done ? ' ' 
 
 A light as of some inward fire irradiated the deep lustrous 
 eyes of the " Nazarene ;" a dreamy, meditative smile parted 
 His lips. Looking so, and smiling thus, His glorious aspect 
 made the silence eloquent, and Pilate's authoritative demand 
 " What hast thou done ?" seemed answered without speech. 
 And the voiceless response might have been rendered into 
 words like these, 
 
 " What have I done ? I have made Life sweet, and robbed 
 Death of bitterness ; there is honour for men and tenderness 
 for women ; there is hope for all, Heaven for all, God for 
 all ! and the lesson of Love, Love divine and human as 
 personified in Me, sanctifies the Earth for ever through My 
 Name!" 
 
 But these great facts remained unuttered, for, as yet they 
 were beyond dull mortal comprehension, and, with the faint 
 dreamy smile still giving a poetic languor of deep thought to 
 every line of His countenance, the Accused answered slowly, 
 every word He spoke vibrating melodiously through the still- 
 
 " My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were 
 of this world then would my servants fight that I should not 
 be delivered to the Jews. But now is my kingdom not from 
 hence ! " < 
 
 And, drawing His majestic figure up to its full height, 
 He raised His head and looked up towards the loftiest window 
 of the Hall, now glittering diamond-like in the saffron-tinted 
 rays of the swiftly ascending sun. His attitude was so un- 
 speakably grand and suggestive of power, that Pilate again 
 recoiled, with that sickening sense of helpless terror clutch- 
 ing at his heart anew. He stole a furtive and anxious glance 
 at the chief priests and elders, who were leaning forward on 
 their benches listening attentively, they all appeared un- 
 moved and coldly indifferent. Caiaphas smiled satirically
 
 28 HARABBAS 
 
 and exchanged a side-whisper with Annas, but otherwise no 
 one volunteered to speak. Sorely against his will, Pilate 
 continued his examination. Feigning an unconcern he was 
 far from feeling, he asked his next question half carelessly, 
 half kindly, 
 
 " Art thou a King, then?" 
 
 With a sublime gesture, the Accused flashed one burning 
 glance upon all who waited breathlessly for His reply, then 
 looked straightly and steadily, full into Pilate's eyes. 
 
 " Thou sayest!" 
 
 And, as he uttered the words, the sun, climbing to the 
 topmost arch of the opposite window, beamed through it in 
 a round blaze of glory, and flooded the judgment-hall with 
 ripples of gold and crimson, circling the Divine brows with a 
 glittering rainbow radiance as though the very heavens had 
 set their crown and signet upon the splendour of a Truth 
 revealed I 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THERE was a moment's pause. 
 
 Pilate sat dumb and irresolute, but among the assembled 
 members of the Sanhedrim there ran various broken mur- 
 murs of indignation and impatience. " What need we of fur- 
 ther vritness ?" " He is convicted out of his own mouth !" 
 "He hath spoken treason!" " Let him die the death!" 
 The sunlight, showering its prolific gold on the white gar- 
 ments of the Prisoner, flashed into prismatic glimmerings now 
 and again as though it had encountered some other light 
 with which it joyously played and harmonised. And Pilate's 
 sight grew misty and strained, his temples throbbed and 
 ached. He was tired, confused, pained, and perplexed ; the 
 extraordinary beauty of the Figure confronting him was too 
 singularly unique to be otherwise than powerfully impressive, 
 and he knew as thoroughly as ever mortal judge knew any- 
 thing, that to condemn this Man to a hideous and unmerited 
 death would be to commit a crime the consequences of which 
 he could not quite foresee, but which he instinctively dreaded. 
 He was perfectly aware of the active part the high-priests 
 Caiaphas and Annas had played in the work of hunting down 
 the " Nazarene" and bringing Him before the Tribunal, and
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 29 
 
 he also realised the manner in which they had laid their 
 plans. A certain wild and lawless young man named Is- 
 cariot, the only son of his father, had banded himself with 
 the disciples of this Jesus of Nazareth, and the elder Is- 
 cariot, a wealthy usurer, was a close friend and confidant of 
 Caiaphas. It was therefore not difficult to perceive how the 
 father, prompted by the high-priest, and himself displeased at 
 his son's sudden fanaticism for a stranger, had brought all 
 the weight of religious and parental authority to bear in per- 
 suading the young man to give up his so-called " Master" to 
 justice. There were other far more deeply hidden motives 
 than these of which Pilate was ignorant, but what little he 
 knew, or thought he knew, was sufficient to make him dis- 
 trust the unsupported witness of the priests and elders alone. 
 Pondering the matter within himself a while, he presently 
 turned to the council and demanded, 
 
 " Where is Iscariot?" 
 
 Anxious looks were exchanged, but no reply was offered. 
 
 " Ye tell me it was he who brought the guard to where 
 this Nazarene lay hidden," proceeded Pilate slowly "An' 
 he hath taken so chief a part in the capture, he should be 
 here. I would fain know what he hath to say concerning the 
 doings of the man whom first he chose to follow and then 
 forsake. Let him be brought before me." 
 
 Annas leaned forward with an air of apologetic servility. 
 
 " The young man hath fled from the city out of fear," said 
 he ; " he hath been seized with some fool's panic, for lo, he 
 came to us at late midnight, madly bemoaning his sins and 
 bringing back the silver which we had given him as guerdon 
 for his service and obedience to the law. Some evil fever 
 surely worked within his blood, for while we yet gently rea- 
 soned with him in hope to calm his frenzy, all suddenly he 
 dashed the money down before us in the Temple and departed 
 in haste, we know not whither." 
 
 " Strange !" muttered Pilate abstractedly. The absence of 
 Iscariot from the present scene of trial vexed him sorely. 
 He had a strong desire to ask the man who had betrayed his 
 Master the cause of his sudden disaffection, and now that this 
 was impossible, he felt more jaded and worn-out than before. 
 His head swam, and in the confused trouble of his mind, a 
 great darkness seemed to grow up out of the air and envelop 
 him swiftly and resistlessly. And in that darkness he fancied 
 he saw a ring of fire which swung round and round like a 
 3*
 
 30 BARABBAS 
 
 rolling wheel, becoming narrower with every rotation and 
 binding him in closely as with a burning zone. The horrible 
 sensation increased, stifling his breath and blinding his eyes 
 till he felt he must leap from his chair and cry aloud in order 
 to save himself from suffocation, when, all at once, his 
 nameless inward suffering ceased, a cool breath seemed to 
 be wafted across his brow, and looking up, he saw that the 
 deep and loving gaze of the Accused was fastened upon him 
 with an infinity of tenderness and pity that opened to him, as 
 it were, a new and exquisite and wondrous sense of life and 
 limitless desire. For that one moment all his perplexities 
 were swept away, and his course seemed clear. Turning 
 to the chief priests and elders he said in firm emphatic 
 tones, 
 
 "I find no fault in this man ! " 
 
 His words were received with a general movement of in- 
 dignation, and Caiaphas losing all his wonted dignity, rose up 
 in wrath exclaiming loudly, 
 
 " No fault ! No fault ? Art thou mad, Pilate ? He stir- 
 reth up the people, teaching throughout all Jewry , beginning 
 from Galilee to this place" 
 
 "And look you," interposed Annas, craning his thin neck 
 and ill-favoured visage forward, " He consorteth with none 
 but outcasts, publicans and sinners, and against all the virtu- 
 ous he pronounceth openly the damnation of hell. Here sit- 
 teth the Rabbi Micha who hath heard him make outcry in 
 the public streets, and hath taken note of certain sayings 
 wherewith he seeketh to mislead the people. For he is one 
 that perverteth truth while feigning most boldly to proclaim 
 it. Speak, Micha, for it seemeth that the worthy governor 
 needeth more witness than ours against this rogue and blas- 
 phemer." 
 
 Micha, an elderly Jew, with a keen, dark, withered face 
 and hard cold eyes, rose at once and drew a set of tablets from 
 his breast. 
 
 " These words," said he in a dry even tone, " are veritably 
 set down here as I received them with mine own ears while 
 standing in the Temple itself. For this misguided and fanat- 
 ical young man hesitated not to preach his unscrupulous 
 theories in the established place of holy doctrine. Judge ye 
 for yourselves whether such language be not violent," and 
 bringing his memoranda close to his eyes, he read slowly 
 
 "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 31 
 
 shut up the kingdom of heaven against men, and ye neither 
 go in yourselves, nor suffer them that are entering to go in. 
 
 li Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites I for ye 
 devour widows' houses, for pretence making long prayer, 
 therefore ye shall receive the greater damnation. 
 
 " Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! for ye 
 compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and when he is 
 made, ye make him twofold more the child of hell than your- 
 selves ! 
 
 " Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees ! hypocrites ! for ye 
 are lilce unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beau- 
 tiful outward, but are within full of dead mens bones and 
 all uncleanness. 
 
 " Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape 
 the damnation of hell!" 
 
 Here pausing, Micha looked up. 
 
 " Of a truth," he remarked in the same monotone, "for 
 one whom the country folk strive to screen by the spreading 
 of false rumours concerning his gentle and harmless charac- 
 ter, such words as these are mere raving devilry, and full of 
 bitterness, spite, and malice prepense, set forth as wilful on- 
 slaughts upon those who do maintain virtue, law, and order. 
 Little gentleness will ye find in them, but much misguided 
 vanity and spleen." 
 
 A slight dawning smile lifted the rigid corners of Pilate's 
 stern mouth. In his heart he secretly admired the magnifi- 
 cent physical aud moral courage of a man who could boldly 
 enter the Temple itself and thus plainly and publicly denounce 
 hypocrisy in the very place where it was most practised. 
 
 " I tell thee, good Micha. and thou, Caiaphas, and Annas 
 also," he said decisively, " I find no fault in him at all, touch- 
 ing those things whereof ye accuse him. No, nor yet Herod, 
 for ye went to him last night, and lo, nothing worthy of 
 death is found in him" 
 
 " Stay, noble Pilate ! listen to me /" interrupted a queru- 
 lous, cracked voice, and the little ape-like figure of the old 
 usurer whom Barabbas had, to his surprise, perceived occu- 
 pying a prominent place on one of the judgment-benches, 
 rose up in tremulous excitement " Listen I pray thee ! for 
 art not thou set here to administer justice to the wronged and 
 oppressed in Judaea? Look you, most excellent sir! this 
 malefactor, this accursed devil, this vile traitor and deceiver" 
 here the wrinkled old wretch gasped and sputtered for
 
 32 BARABBAS 
 
 breath in the sheer extremity of rage, " this pretended 
 prophet came insolently into the Temple two days agone and 
 saw me there at my accustomed place, thou knowest, noble 
 Pilate, I am an honest poor man ! and lo, like a furious 
 madman he seized me, ay, and he hath a clutch like iron ! 
 and taking up a whip of knotted cords scourged me, great 
 Pilate ! scourged me, me!" and his voice rose to a shrill yell 
 of fury " out of the holy place ! And his mouth was full 
 of blasphemy and cursing, for be said, ' My house is called 
 the house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves /' 
 Mark that, worthy Pilate ! he did claim the very Temple as 
 his own, even as he hath claimed to be King of the Jews, and 
 hath sought to reign over all Judaea. Crucify him, noble 
 governor ! crucify him in the name of God ! And scourge 
 him ! scourge him till the proud and sinful blood flows in 
 torrents from his veins ! scourge him, for he hath scourged 
 one of the children of Levi, yea, he hath scourged me, even 
 me! 1 ' Here he stopped, half choked with malice and fury, 
 while Pilate regarded him, coldly smiling. 
 
 " Verily, Zacharias, thou tellest me of one good service 
 this man hath rendered the state," he said, deliberately 
 "Long hast thou merited a whipping, and that thou hast at 
 last received it will help to satisfy some few of thy money 
 clients in Jerusalem !" An involuntary murmur of approving 
 laughter broke from some of the members of the council, but 
 was quickly suppressed as the high-priest frowned darkly upon 
 the offenders. Zacharias shrank back, scowling and mutter- 
 ing, while Pilate calmly continued " More than ever am I 
 persuaded that there is no evil in this youthful preacher to 
 the poor, and no fault at all worthy of death, wherefore as ye 
 have a custom at this Feast requiring the liberation of a 
 prisoner, I will release him unto you and let him go." 
 
 "The multitude will rend thee, Pilate, for an act so im- 
 politic !" exclaimed Caiaphas hotly " What ! shall an inno- 
 cent man like this aged Zacharias, who hath no fault save the 
 common fault of his trade, be publicly scourged, and thou 
 the governor of Judaea find no remedy ? Thou art no friend 
 to Caesar if thou let this man go. Moreover they demand 
 the release of Barabbas, who hath been imprisoned for more 
 than a year, and whose sin of rebellion was one of impulse, 
 not of malignant intention. He hath been brought hither by 
 my order, and waits below the barrier, guarded, but prepared 
 for freedom."
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 33 
 
 " Then he is ill prepared !" declared Pilate sharply " For 
 by all the gods of Rome he shall be crucified 1 Freedom for 
 Barabbas ? Have ye no memory ? Did he not raise an in- 
 surrection against Roman law, and harangue the people in the 
 open streets far more wildly and arrogantly than this harm- 
 less Nazarene hath done? And did he not slay all unpro- 
 vokedly one of your own tribe, Gabrias the Pharisee, a man 
 of excellent learning and renown ? Go to ! Envy doth 
 prompt ye to demand the nobler life and give liberty to the 
 vile, and ye have sorely misguided the mob in this matter. 
 But now will I myself address them, and release unto them 
 him whom they call King of the Jews." 
 
 And, rising from his chair he prepared to descend from the 
 Tribunal. Caiaphas made a hasty step forward as though to 
 prevent his movements, but Pilate waved him aside disdain- 
 fully, and he stood rooted to the spot, the picture of baffled 
 rage and dismay, his thin white hands nervously clenched, 
 and the great jewel on his breast heaving up and down with 
 the passionate quickness of his breathing. Annas sat still 
 in his place, utterly taken aback by the governor's decision, 
 and stared fixedly in front of him as though he found it diffi- 
 cult to believe the evidence of his senses. Zacharias the 
 money-lender alone pave violent vent to his feelings by throw- 
 ing up his hands wildly in the air and anon beating his breast, 
 the while he loudly bewailed himself 
 
 " Ai ! ai ! There is no justice left in Jerusalem ! Woe, 
 woe unto the children of Abraham who are ground down be- 
 neath the iron heel of Rome ! Woe unto us who are made 
 the spoil of the heathen tyrant and oppressor!" 
 
 And as he thus raved and rocked his lean body to and fro, 
 the Divine Prisoner suddenly turned and regarded him steadily. 
 A rapid change came over his wicked features, he ceased 
 yelling, and drawing himself together in a wrinkled heap 
 till he looked like some distorted demon, he began to mutter 
 curses in a thick whisper that was more awful than any au- 
 dible speech. The "Nazarene" watched him for a moment, 
 a noble wrath clouding the fairness of His brows, but the 
 shadow of righteous indignation passed even more swiftly 
 than it had come, leaving His face serene and smiling and 
 patient as before. Only the bright pure Eyes were more 
 steadily uplifted to the sunlight, as though they sought to 
 drink in glory for sustenance. Meanwhile, an old, white- 
 bearded man, a prominent and much-respected member of the
 
 34 SARABBAS 
 
 Sanhedrim, interposed, and pulling the mouthing Zacharias 
 back to his place with a stern injunction to be silent, he him- 
 self ventured to address Pilate in calm conciliatory accents.) 
 
 " Believe me, worthy Pilate, thou art not altogether wise 
 in this matter. Why, for the sake of one man wilt thou give 
 cause of offence to both the priests and people ? A rebellious 
 rogue and murderer such as Barabbas hath proved himself to 
 be, is far less dangerous to the community than yonder young 
 Teacher of new doctrines, who out of very arrogance, arising 
 perchance from the consciousness of a certain superior physi- 
 cal force and outward beauty, doth maintain himself thus 
 boldly, striving to terrorise thee and avert true justice. Lo, 
 there are many such as he among the wandering Egyptian 
 aliens, who, by reason of an imposing presence, and a certain 
 vague sublimity of speech, do persuade the less crafty to be- 
 lieve in their supernatural powers. Look you, even Barabbas 
 himself hath assumed this same imperial attitude when ha- 
 ranguing the mob and inciting the idle and disaffected to riot- 
 ing and disorder, for he hath been a student of many books 
 and speaketh with the tongue of eloquence. Nevertheless 
 none of the rebellious have presumed so far as this misguided 
 Nazarene, who, forsaking his trade, and collecting about him 
 the veritable scum of Judaea (witli the exception of Iscariot 
 who is well connected, and whose fanaticism for this man 
 hath sorely grieved his father) doth pretend to open Heaven 
 only to the poor and vile. He hath declared it easier for a 
 oamel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man 
 to enter the Kingdom of God ! Wherefore, by such exag- 
 gerated parable he doth imply that even imperial Caesar shall 
 not escape damnation. Should such teachings prevail there 
 will be an end of all restraint in Judaea, and thine Emperor 
 will most surely blame thee for thy lack of discipline. Take 
 heed, good Pilate ! mercy is nobly becoming in thee, but 
 with mercy, forget not judgment!" 
 
 Pilate listened to this little homily with manifest reluc- 
 tance and impatience, and his level brows drew together in a 
 worried frown. After a pause ho said irritably, 
 
 " Take ye him then and judge him according to your law ! " 
 
 Caiaphas turned upon him indignantly. 
 
 " It is not lawful for us to put any man to death,' 1 he 
 answered haughtily "Thou are the governor, and to thee 
 we are compelled to look for justice." 
 
 At that moment there was a slight stir and movement in
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 35 
 
 the waiting crowd beyond the barrier, and people were seen 
 to be making way for the entrance of a new-comer. Thi^ 
 was a slim, dark-eyed youth of a graceful form and delicate 
 beauty, he was gorgeously attired in a silken garment of 
 pale blue, bound about him with a scarlet girdle and richly 
 embroidered in gold and silver. He advanced in haste, ye\, 
 timidly, and as he crossed the judgment-hall, cast an anxious 
 and awe-stricken look at the stately figure of the " Nazarene." 
 Pilate watched his approach with a good deal of surprise and 
 impatience, he recognised his wife's favourite page, and won- 
 dered what had brought him thither at such a time and in so 
 unaccustomed a place. Arriving at the judgment dais the 
 youth dropped on one knee and proffered a folded scroll. 
 Snatching it in haste, Pilate opened it and uttered a smoth- 
 ered exclamation. It was from his wife, one of the most 
 beautiful of Roman women, known in the city for her haughty 
 and fearless disposition, and for her openly pronounced con- 
 tempt for the manners and customs of the Jews. And what 
 she had written now ran simply thus, 
 
 " Have thou nothing to do with that just man, for I have 
 suffered many things this day in a dream because of him." 
 
 With an abrupt sign of dismissal to the page, who at once 
 retired by the way he had come, Pilate crushed the missive 
 in his hand and sat lost in thought. Hound the Tribunal, 
 the sunshine spread in a sea of gold, a bell striking the hour, 
 slowly chimed on the deep stillness, the white-robed figure 
 of the Accused stood waiting as immovably as a sculptured 
 god in the midst of the dazzling beams of the morning, 
 and through Pilate's brain the warning words of the woman 
 he loved more than all the world sent jarring hammer-strokes 
 of repetition 
 
 "Have thou nothing to do with that just man!" 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IP he could have prolonged his deliberations thus for ever 
 it would have seemed to him well. He was not actually con- 
 scious of time. Something vast, indefinite, and eternal ap- 
 peared to surround and make of him but a poor, helpless, 
 stupid block of perishable humanity, unfit to judge, unfit to
 
 36 BARABBAS 
 
 rule. He felt as though he had aged suddenly, as though 
 a score of years had passed in withering haste over his head 
 since the " Nazarene" had confronted him as a prisoner wait- 
 ing to be condemmed. And with this mysterious sense of 
 inward age and incapacity freezing his very blood, he had 
 the goading consciousness that all the members of the Sanhe- 
 drim council were watching him, wondering at his indecision 
 and impatiently expecting judgment on what to them was a 
 matter of perfectly plain common-sense and social justice, 
 but which to him had assumed almost gigantic proportions of 
 complexity and trouble. At last, with an effort, he arose, 
 and gathering his robes about him, again prepared to descend 
 from the Tribunal. With a half-appealing, half authoritative 
 gesture he beckoned the Accused to follow him. He was 
 instantly obeyed, and the Man of Nazareth walked patiently 
 yet proudly after His judge whose trailing garment served to 
 sweep the ground for the passing of His footsteps. In the 
 rear of the twain came all the priests and elders, whispering 
 together and shaking their heads over the Roman governor's 
 incomprehensible conduct, and after them in turn the crooked- 
 limbed and evil-visaged usurer, Zacharias, shuffled along, sup- 
 porting himself on a stick of which the knob was heavily 
 encrusted with gold and jewels, this one piece of gorgeous- 
 ness being in curious contrast to the rest of his otherwise 
 beggarly attire. And as the whole vari-coloured group 
 moved forward, a murmur of satisfaction and interest hummed 
 through the expectant multitude, at last the long-deferred 
 sentence was to be finally pronounced. 
 
 Arrived within a few feet of the barrier which divided the 
 judicial precincts from the common hall, Pilate paused. 
 Lifting up his voice so that it might be heard on the very 
 outskirts of the throng, he addressed himself to the people, 
 at the same time pointing to the regal Figure standing a little 
 way behind him. 
 
 " Behold your King /" 
 
 Yells of derisive laughter answered him, intermingled 
 with hooting and hisses. Caiaphas smiled disdainfully, and 
 Annas appeared to be convulsed with a paroxysm of silent 
 mirth. Pilate's glance swept over them both with a supreme 
 and measureless scorn. He loathed the Jewish priests, their 
 ritual and their doctrine, and made no secret of his ab- 
 horrence. Holding up one hand to enjoin silence he again 
 appealed to the irritated and impatient mob.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 37 
 
 " / have examined this man before you" he said, in de- 
 liberate far-reaching accents, " and I find in Mm no fault 
 worthy of death." 
 
 Here he paused, and a sudden hush of stupefaction and 
 surprise fell on the listening crowd. The governor resumed, 
 
 " But ye have a custom that I should release unto you one 
 at the Passover ; will ye therefore that I release unto you the 
 4 King of the Jews ? " 
 
 A roar of furious denial interrupted and drowned his voice. 
 
 " Not this man .'" 
 
 " Not this man, but Barabbas /" 
 
 "Barabbas!" "Barabbas!" 
 
 The name was caught and taken up by the people as 
 though it were a shout of triumph, and echoed from mouth 
 to mouth till it died away of itself in the outer air. Pilate 
 stepped back, disappointed and irate, he realised the position. 
 The populace had evidently been intimidated by the priests, 
 and had come prepared to stand by their monstrous demand, 
 the life of a notorious criminal in place of that of an 
 innocent man. And they had a certain right to enforce their 
 wishes at the season of Passover. With a short vexed sigh, 
 Pilate flashed a searching glance over the now closely serried 
 ranks of the people. 
 
 " Where is Barabbas ?" he demanded impatiently " Bring 
 him forth 1" 
 
 There was a moment's delay, and then Barabbas, wild- 
 eyed, uncouth, half starved and almost naked, yet not with- 
 out a certain defiant beauty in his fierce aspect, was thrust 
 to the front between two armed soldiers of the Roman guard. 
 Pilate eyed him with strong disfavour, Barabbas returned 
 him scornful glance for glance. Conscious that the attention 
 of the mob was now centred upon him, the whole soul of the 
 long-imprisoned and suffering man rose up in revolt against 
 the " Roman tyrant," as Pilate was not unfrequently called 
 by the disaffected Jews, and the old pride, rebellion, and 
 lawlessness of his disposition began to make new riot in his 
 blood. If it had not been for the wondrous, almost luminous 
 Figure that maintained such an attitude of regal calm close 
 at hand, Barabbas felt that he would have willingly struck 
 his judge on the mouth with the very gyves that bound his 
 wrists together. As it was, he remained motionless, his 
 eyes blazing forth anger, his bare brown chest heaving 
 quickly with the irregular fluctuations of his passionate 
 4
 
 38 B ARABS AS 
 
 breath, and in that attitude he might have stood as a repre- 
 sentative type of strong, barbaric, untaught, untamed Hu- 
 manity. Facing him was the sublime contrast, Divinity, 
 the grand Ideal, the living symbol of perfect and spirit- 
 ualised Manhood, whose nature was the nearest akin to God, 
 and who for this very God-likeness was deemed only worthy 
 of a criminal's death. Some glimmering idea of the mon- 
 strous incongruity between himself and the silent Accused, 
 struck Barabbas forcibly even while he confronted Pilate 
 with all that strange effrontery which is sometimes born of 
 conscious guilt ; and the thought crossed his brain that, if in 
 agreement to the public voice he were indeed released, the 
 first use he would make of his liberty would be to persuade 
 the people to mercy on behalf of this kingly-looking Man, 
 whose noble aspect exerted on his dark and tortured soul 
 a secret, yet potent spell. And while this idea was in his 
 mind, Pilate, steadily regarding him, spoke out with harsh 
 brevity 
 
 " So ! Thou did'st slay Gabrias the Pharisee ?" 
 
 Barabbas smiled disdainfully. 
 
 " Yea ! And so would I slay another such an one, could 
 there be found in all the city so great a liar !" 
 
 Pilate turned to the high-priests and elders. 
 
 " Hear ye him ? Yet" this is the man ye would set at 
 liberty? Impenitent and obstinate, he hath no sense of 
 sorrow for his crime, how then doth he merit pardon ?" 
 
 Caiaphas, vaguely embarrassed by the question, lowered 
 his eyes for a second, then raised them, conveying into his 
 long thin face an admirably affected expression of serious 
 pity and forbearance. 
 
 " Good Pilate," he replied blandly and in a low tone, 
 " Thou knowest not the whole truth of this affair. Barabbas 
 hath indeed been guilty of much sin, but look you, his evil 
 passions were not roused without a cause. We, of the Holy 
 Temple, are prepared to instruct him how best his crime may 
 be expiated in the sight of the Most High Jehovah, and his 
 offering shall not be rejected but received at the altar. For 
 the ill-fated Gabrias, though eminent in learning and of good 
 renown, had a hasty and false tongue, and it is commonly 
 reported that he did most vilely slander a virtuous maiden of 
 this city whom Barabbas loved." 
 
 Pilate lifted his eyebrows superciliously. 
 
 " These are but base pandering matters," he said, " where-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLDS TRAGEDY 39 
 
 with thou, Caiaphas, should' st have nought to do. And 
 Gabrias surely was not the only possessor of a false tongue ! 
 Thy words savour of a woman's tale-bearing and are of idle 
 purport. Murder is murder, theft is theft, excuses cannot 
 alter crimes. And this Barabbas is likewise a robber." 
 
 And again confronting the multitude, he reiterated his 
 previous demand in a more directly concise form. 
 
 " Which will ye that I release unto you ? Barablas or 
 Jesus which is called Christ ? " 
 
 With one accord the populace responded tumultuously, 
 
 "Barabbas!" " Barabbas !" 
 
 Pilate gave a gesture which might have meant despair or 
 indignation or both, and turned a wistful look over his 
 shoulder at the " Nazarene," who at the moment seemed 
 absorbed in grave and tranquil meditation, of which the 
 tenor must have been pleasing, for He smiled. 
 
 Once more Pilate addressed the crowd. 
 
 " What will ye tlien that I do unto Him whom ye call the 
 King of the Jews ?" 
 
 " Crucify him /" " Crucify him /" 
 
 The answer came in yells and shrieks of rage, but above all 
 the frantic din, there rose that one silver flute-like woman's 
 voice that had been heard before 
 
 "Crucify Jam!" 
 
 Barabbas started at the sound as a race-horse starts at 
 the prick of a spur. Wildly he looked about him, with an 
 almost ravenous glitter in his eyes he scanned the shouting 
 throng, but could discover no glimpse of the face he longed 
 yet feared to see. And, yielding to a nameless attraction, he 
 brought his wandering glances back, back to the spot where 
 the sunlight seemed to gather in a fiery halo round the form 
 of Him who as Pilate had said was "called Christ." What 
 was the meaning of the yearning love and vast pity that was 
 suddenly reflected in that fair Countenance ? What delicate 
 unspoken word hovered on the sensitive lips, arched like a 
 bow and tremulous with feeling? Barabbas knew not, but 
 it suddenly seemed to him that his whole life with all its 
 secrets good and evil, lay bare to the gaze of those soft yet 
 penetrating eyes that met his own with such solemn warning 
 and tender pathos. 
 
 "No, no!" he cried loudly on a swift inexplicable impulse 
 " She did not speak ! She could not thus have spoken ! 
 Women are pitiful, not cruel, she seeks no man's torture !
 
 40 BARABBAS 
 
 people of Jerusalem !" he continued, his deep voice gath- 
 ering a certain sonorous music of its own, as, turning him- 
 self about he faced the crowd " Why do ye clamour for 
 this prophet's death ? Surely he hath not slain a man among 
 ye, neither hath he stolen your goods nor broken into your 
 dwellings. Rumour saith he hath healed ye in your sick- 
 ness, comforted ye in your sorrows, and performed among ye 
 many wondrous miracles, so ye yourselves report, wherefore 
 then for these things should he die? Are ye not just? 
 have ye not the gift of reason ? Lo, it is I who merit pun- 
 ishment ! I, who slew Gabrias and rejoice in mine iniquity ! 
 and look you, I, blood-stained, guilty, and impenitent, de- 
 serve my death, whereas this man is innocent 1" 
 
 Shouts of derisive laughter and applause and renewed 
 cries of " Barabbas I Barabbas ! Release unto us Barabbas !" 
 were the only result of his rough eloquence. 
 
 " Stop his mouth !" exclaimed Annas angrily " He must 
 be mad to prate thus !' ' 
 
 " Mad or no, ye have yourselves elected him for freedom" 
 observed Pilate composedly " Mayhap ye will now re- 
 tract, seeing he hath shown a certain generosity towards yon 
 defenceless Nazareue 1" 
 
 While he spoke, there was a threatening movement of the 
 mob towards the bairier, the line of Roman soldiery swayed 
 as though it were likely to be broken through by superior 
 force, and a multitude of hands were tossed aloft in air and 
 pointed at the unmoved patient figure of the Christ. 
 
 ' ' Crucify him ! Crucify him !' ' 
 
 Pilate advanced swiftly, close to the ranks of the turbulent 
 populace, and demanded sternly, 
 
 "Shall I crucify your King ?" 
 
 Amid a chorus of groans and hisses, more than a hundred 
 voices gave reply, 
 
 " We have no king but Caesar !" 
 
 _ " Verily, by thy hesitancy, Pilate, thou wilt have the whole 
 city in tumult !" said Caiaphas reproachfully. " Seest thou 
 not the mob are losing patience?" 
 
 At that moment a tall man whose grizzled head was 
 adorned with a showy scarlet turban, detached himself from 
 the rest of the throng and stood boldly forward, exclaiming 
 in loud excited tones 
 
 " We have a law, and by that law he ought to die, because 
 me made himself the Son of God!"
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 41 
 
 As he heard these words, Pilate retreated some few steps 
 away from the barrier, with the strange stunned sense of 
 having been struck a sharp blow from an invisible hand ! 
 The Son of God ! Such an assertion was assuredly blasphe- 
 mous, if indeed the Accused had asserted it. But this was 
 just what Pilate doubted. When Caiaphas had previously 
 spoken of it, he had received the report with contempt, be- 
 cause he knew the high-priest would stop at no falsehood, 
 provided his own immediate ends were thereby attained. But 
 now that one of the populace had come forward with the same 
 accusation, Pilate was forced to look at it in a different light. 
 After all, he was set in his place to administer justice to the 
 Jews, and in the Jewish law blasphemy was regarded as a 
 crime almost worse than murder. He, Pilate himself, as a 
 citizen of Rome, took a different and much lighter view of 
 the offence. For the Roman deities were all so mixed, and 
 so much worse than human in their vengeances and illicit 
 loves, that it was not always easy to perceive anything more 
 lofty in the character of a god than in that of a man. Any 
 warrior who had won renown for fierce brute courage and 
 muscular prowess, might report himself in Rome as the son 
 of a god without affronting popular feeling, and in time, 
 many-mouthed Tradition would turn his lie into a seeming 
 truth. And in that mysterious land through which the Nile 
 made its languid way, did not travellers speak with awe and 
 wonderment of the worship of Osiris, the incarnate god in 
 human semblance ? The idea was a popular one, it arose 
 from an instinctive desire to symbolise the divine in humanity, 
 and was a fable common to all religions, wherefore there 
 seemed to be little actual harm in the fact of this dreamy- 
 looking poetic young philosopher of Nazareth seeking to as- 
 sociate himself with the favourite myths of the people, if 
 indeed, he did so associate himself. And Pilate, his thoughts 
 still busy with the romances told of the gods in Egypt, beck- 
 oned the Accused towards him. His signal was complied 
 with, and the " Nazarene" moved quietly up to within reach 
 of His judge's hand. Pilate surveyed Him with renewed 
 interest and curiosity, then in a low tone of friendly and 
 earnest appeal, asked, 
 
 "From whence art thou ?" 
 
 No verbal answer was vouchsafed to him, only a look; 
 and in the invincible authority and grandeur of that look 
 there was something of darkness and light intermingled, 
 4*
 
 42 BARABBAS 
 
 something of the drear solemnity of the thunder-cloud before 
 the lightning leaps forth, sword-like, to destroy. A great 
 anguish and foreboding seized Pilate's soul, with all the 
 force of his being he longed to cry out, to give voice to his 
 secret trouble, and to openly express before priests and people 
 his abhorrence and rejection of the judicial task he was set 
 to do. But all words seemed strangled in his throat, and a 
 desperate sense of hopelessness and helplessness paralysed his 
 will. 
 
 "Speakest thou not unto me?" he continued, in accents 
 that were hoarse and tremulous with excess of feeling ; 
 "Knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and 
 power to release thee T ' 
 
 Still steadily the large lustrous eyes regarded him, with 
 something of compassion now in their glance, and after a 
 moment's pause, the rich full voice once more cast music on 
 the air. 
 
 " Thou couldest have no power at all against me except it 
 were given thee from above /" Then, with a slight sigh of 
 pity and pardon: "Therefore, he that delivered me unto thee 
 hath the greater sin." 
 
 And the penetrating look flashed upward from Pilate to 
 the tall rigid form of Caiaphas, who shrank from it as though 
 suddenly scorched by a flying flame. Pilate, more than ever 
 impressed by the air of command, power, and entire fearless- 
 ness expressed in the whole demeanour of the Prisoner, once 
 again began to puzzle his brain with the recollection of the 
 various stories that were current concerning Egypt, stories 
 of exiled monarchs, who, banished from their realms by an 
 untoward series of events or for some self-imposed religious 
 intention, went wandering about in all the countries of the 
 world, teaching the mystic wisdom of the East, and perform- 
 ing miracles of healing. Was it not probable that this young 
 Preacher, so unlike the Jewish race in the fair openness and 
 dignity of His countenance, the clear yet deep dark blue of 
 His eyes, and the wonderfully majestic yet aerial poise of His 
 figure, might, notwithstanding the popular report of His ple- 
 beian origin, after all be one of these discrowned nomads ? 
 This idea gained on Pilate's fancy, and impelled by its influ- 
 ence he asked for the second time, 
 
 "Art thou a King?" 
 
 And by marked accentuation of the question he sought to 
 imply that if such were the original distinction of the Cap-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 43 
 
 tive, release might yet be obtained. But the " Nazarene" 
 only gave a slight sigh of somewhat wearied patience as He 
 replied, 
 
 " THOU sayest that I am a King /" Then, apparently moved 
 by commiseration for the vacillating perplexity of His judge, 
 He continued gently, " To this end was I born and for this 
 end came I into the world, That I should bear witness unto 
 the Truth! Every one that is of the Truth knoweth my 
 voice." 
 
 While He thus spoke, Pilate gazed upon Him in solemn 
 astonishment. Here was no traitor or criminal, but simply 
 one of the world's noblest madmen ! More convincing than 
 all the other accusations brought against Him by priests and 
 people was His own unqualified admission of folly. For 
 whosoever sought to " bear witness unto the Truth" in a 
 world kept up by lies could not be otherwise than mad ! Had 
 it not always been thus? And would it not always be thus? 
 Had not the Athenian Socrates met his death nearly five 
 hundred years agone for merely uttering the Truth ? Pilate, 
 more instructed than the majority in Greek and Roman phi- 
 losophy, knew that no fault was so reprehensible in all classes 
 of society as simple plain-speaking ; it was almost safer to 
 murder a man than tell the truth of him ! Thus thinking 
 he gave a hopeless gesture of final abandonment to destiny ; 
 and with an ironical bitterness he was scarcely conscious 
 of, uttered the never to-be-forgotten, never-to-be-answered 
 query 
 
 " What is Truth?" 
 
 Then, glancing from the Accused to the accusers, from the 
 priests to the people, from the people in turn to Barabbas, 
 who waited before him sullenly expectant, he sighed impa- 
 tiently, and with the desperately resolved air of one compelled 
 to perform the very act his soul most abhorred, he beckoned 
 to a clerk in attendance and gave him a whispered order. 
 The man retired, but returned almost immediately bearing a 
 large silver bowl filled with pure water. Flinging back his 
 rich robe of office and allowing it to trail in voluminous folds 
 behind him, Pilate, closely followed by the attendant carrying 
 the silver vessel, stepped forward again to confront the populace 
 who were becoming more contentious aud noisy with every 
 moment's delay. On perceiving the governor's advance, how- 
 ever, they ceased their turbulent murmurings and angry dis- 
 putations, and concentrated all their attention upon him, the
 
 44 BARABBAS 
 
 more particularly as his movements were somewhat strange 
 and unexpected. Rolling up his gold-embroidered sleeves 
 well above his wrists, he raised his bare hands aloft and 
 showed them, palms outward, to the multitude, the great 
 jewels on his fingers flashing like stars in the morning sun. 
 He held them so uplifted for a minute's space, while the 
 people, wondering, looked on in silence, then, slowly lower- 
 ing them, he dipped them deep in the shining bowl, rinsing 
 them over and over again in the clear cold element which 
 sparkled in its polished receptacle like an opal against fire. 
 And as he shook the bright drops away from him, he cried in 
 a loud penetrating voice 
 
 " lam innocent of the blood of this Just person ! See ye to 
 it!" 
 
 The multitude shouted and yelled. They understood and 
 accepted the position. Their Roman judge publicly declined 
 all responsibility in the matter, even so let it be ! but they, 
 they the elect of God, the children of Judaea, eagerly em- 
 braced, and not for the first time in their annals, the right- 
 eous opportunity of slaying the innocent. And with one 
 mighty roar they responded, men and women alike, 
 
 " His blood be upon us and on our children /" 
 
 The hideous, withering, irrevocable Curse rose shudder- 
 ingly up to Heaven, there to be inscribed by the Recording 
 Angel in letters of flame as the self-invoked Doom of a 
 people. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AFTER this nothing more could be said. An ignorant and 
 callous mob has neither justice, reason, nor pity, yet the pop- 
 ular verdict had to be accepted as final. No appeal could b& 
 made against such a grimly resolved and unanimous decision. 
 Pilate saw that had he still ventured to plead the cause of 
 the Divine Accused, the impatience of the crowd, strained to 
 its last limit, would probably break out in riot and bloodshed. 
 He therefore, like a man driven along by a resistless whirl- 
 wind, sacrificed his own will to the desire of the people, and 
 Caiaphas, seeing that he had at last yielded to the force of 
 necessity, heaved a sigh of relief. Hesitation was at an end, 
 Man of Naiareth was to die the death. And the great
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 45 
 
 high-priest murmured his satisfaction in the ear of his friend 
 Annas, who listened servilely, rubbing his fat hands together 
 and every now and then rolling up his small treacherous eyes 
 in pious thanksgiving, thanksgiving that the Holy City of 
 Jerusalem was to be finally freed from the troublous and 
 alarming presence of the " Nazarene." 
 
 " Once dead," whispered Caiaphas, with a contemptuous 
 side-glance at the fair-faced enemy of his craft, the silent 
 " Witness unto the Truth" " and, moreover, slain with dis- 
 honour in the public sight, he will soon sink out of remem- 
 brance. His few disciples will be despised, his fanatical 
 foolish doctrine will be sneered down, and we, we will take 
 heed that no chronicle of his birth or death or teaching re- 
 mains to be included in our annals. A stray street preacher 
 to the common folk ! how should his name endure ?" 
 
 " Nay, it shall not endure," returned Annas with an unctu- 
 ous air of perfect assurance " Thou, most holy and exalted 
 Caiaphas, hast ever dwelt too ardently upon this fellow's 
 boasting. Many there are, such as he, who thus idly vaunt 
 themselves, and swear that though unknown and all un- 
 honoured by their own generation, they shall be acclaimed 
 great and wonderful hereafter. Arrogant philosophers prate 
 thus, mad poets who string rhymes as children string beads, 
 and call such fool's work valuable, heretical thinkers too of 
 all degrees, yet lo, their vaunting comes to naught ! Verily, 
 if History make no mention of this man, who will believe 
 he ever lived !" 
 
 Caiaphas smiled coldly. 
 
 "Little word will there be of him in History," said he. 
 " For his crazed followers are ignorant of letters, and our 
 scribes must write only what we shall bid them !" 
 
 Part of this low-toned conversation was overheard by 
 Zacharias, the old usurer, and he nodded emphatic approval, 
 laughing silently the while. The condemnatory sentence 
 passed on the immortal Captive by the Jewish populace was 
 balm to his mean and miserable soul, he rejoiced in it as in 
 some excellent and satisfying jest, and he struck his jewelled 
 stick now and then on the pavement, with an ecstatic thump, 
 by way of giving outward expression to his inwardly gratified 
 feeling. Pilate, meantime, having, by the washing of his 
 hands before the people, openly signified his repugnance and 
 refusal to personally participate in the crime (for so he truly 
 considered it) about to be committed, proceeded with the rest
 
 46 BARABBAS 
 
 of his enforced duty in feverish haste and something of horror. 
 Nothing could now be done quickly enough to please him, 
 he grew nervous and excited, a shamed flush at times burned 
 in his cheeks, and anon he grew ghastly pale again, every 
 line of his features becoming drawn and livid as the features 
 of the dead, and in all his hurried movements he carefully 
 avoided turning his eyes towards the Man Condemned. At 
 his abrupt signal some twenty soldiers with drawn weapons 
 surrounded the grand white Figure that stood, divinely silent, 
 in the glory of the morning sun, coarse-visaged, squat-bodied 
 men who laughed and swore among themselves as they eyed 
 their Prisoner up and down and made mocking comments on 
 His stately and unmoved bearing. He Himself appeared 
 to be almost unconscious of their proximity, some happy 
 fancy seemed to hover, spirit-like, across His mind, for judging 
 by His radiant aspect, He might have been a crowned Apollo 
 dreaming of realms wherein His smile alone created light and 
 sound and life. And in the same moment that the military 
 cohort thus fenced Him in with their bristling spears, the two 
 soldiers who had guarded Barabbas until now retired to the 
 rear, leaving their man to receive his formal release at the 
 hands of the governor. Alone, facing Pilate, Barabbas 
 waited, the iron manacles still weightily dragging down his 
 arms and showing where their long and corroding pressure 
 had bruised and cut the flesh beneath. He was giddy with 
 fatigue and excitement, but his black eyes were brilliant, and 
 every nerve and muscle in his body thrilled to the rapturous 
 thought of liberty. His suspense did not last long, for Pilate 
 was now in no humour for delays. Snatching from an attend- 
 ant officer the implement used for such purposes, he struck at 
 the heavy links of the rescued criminal's chains with such 
 irate violence that they were soon parted asunder and fell, 
 clanging harshly on the marble pavement. The noise made 
 by their fall was sufficient to excite the populace to a burst 
 of triumphant shouting. 
 
 "Barabbas!" 
 
 " Freedom for Barabbas !" 
 
 " Hail Barabbas !" 
 
 Barabbas meanwhile stared at the cast-off fetters with a 
 stupefied air as though they had all at once become curious 
 and unfamiliar objects. He had worn them day and night for 
 eighteen months yet now it seemed he knew them not. He 
 lifted his arms and swung them to and fro with a sense of
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 47 
 
 bodily ease and lightness, but where was the buoyancy of 
 spirit that had but a moment before elated him ? It was 
 gone, and gone quite suddenly, he knew not how. He had 
 hoped and longed and prayed for freedom, his hope was ful- 
 filled, and now, with fulfilment, hope was dead. A heavy 
 despondency overcame him, and he stood dully inert, while 
 he heard Caiaphas say, 
 
 " Wilt thou not fasten yon bracelets upon the Nazarene, 
 good Pilate ? Who knoweth but that in going to his death 
 he may not prove rebellious?" 
 
 Pilate frowned. 
 
 " What now ! Hath he fought with the guard ? Hath he 
 moved? Hath he murmured? Hath he spoken aught of 
 violence ? He disputeth not judgment, he doth most mutely 
 accept the fate ye give him. Therefore why bind that which 
 maketh no resistance ? Let Jews be what they will, ye shall 
 not make a coward of a Roman!" 
 
 And with this he turned abruptly to Barabbas. 
 
 "Why dost thou wait there, fellow? Get thee hence!" 
 and the suppressed irritation he felt quivered in his usually 
 calm voice " Impenitent murderer and thief as thou art, the 
 laws of thy nation set thee free to slay and steal again at thy 
 pleasure !" 
 
 Barabbas winced, and his dark face flushed. The scathing 
 words cut him deeply, but he found nothing to say in reply. 
 His head drooped somewhat wearily on his chest, he fully 
 understood he was at liberty, yet liberty did not now bring 
 with it the complete sense of joy he had thought to find in 
 its possession. Beyond the barrier the people outside waited 
 to receive him with triumphant acclamations, but his limbs 
 seemed to be fastened to the spot where he stood, and for the 
 life of him he could not help gazing wistfully and remorse- 
 fully at the One condemned in his stead. 
 
 " It would have been better," he said within himself, " to 
 have died for yonder Man, than live on, free." 
 
 As this thought crossed his mind, it seemed to him that a 
 sudden soft light shone round the uplifted head of the " Naza- 
 rene," a ring of pale and misty radiance that gradually 
 deepened into a warm glow of golden flame. He gazed at 
 this phenomenon affrighted, surely others saw the glory as 
 well as himself? Judge, priests, soldiers and people, could it 
 be possible they were blind to what was so distinctly visible ? 
 He tried to speak and tell them, but his tongue clove to th
 
 48 BAR ABB AS 
 
 roof of his mouth, and he could only stare like one distraught, 
 striving to utter words that refused to become audible. Caia- 
 phas, impatient at his apparent stupidity and unwillingness to 
 move, stepped up to him. 
 
 " Did'st thou not hear the governor's command, thou fool ? 
 Get thee hence quickly ! Take heed to thy ways, and see 
 thou venture not near the house of Iscariot I" 
 
 This injunction pronounced in an angry whisper, roused 
 Barabbas from his amazed contemplation of the Christ to a 
 sudden silent access of personal fury. The glory-light van- 
 ished from the brows of the prophet of Nazareth, there 
 was no more wonder, no more mystic terror ; material life 
 and its demands rose paramount in his mind. With a look 
 of indignant scorn and rebellion flashed full in the face of 
 the great high-priest, he straightened himself proudly to 
 his full height, and turning his back on the Hall of 
 Judgment strode swiftly towards the barrier dividing him 
 from the populace, the Roman soldiers making way for him 
 to pass. A moment more, and he had sprung into the midst 
 of the crowd where he was received with frenzied yells of 
 delight and prolonged cheering. An exultant mob gathered 
 round him, shouting his name, men embraced him, women 
 caught his grimy hands and kissed them, little children 
 danced about him whooping and shrieking with joy, not 
 knowing why they did so, but simply infected by the excite- 
 ment of their elders, one man in the height of enthusiasm 
 tore off a rich upper mantle from his own shoulders and 
 flung it around the half-naked, half-starved form of the 
 newly-released criminal, shedding tears of emotion the while. 
 Not a trace was left of the previous aversion shown towards 
 him when first he had been marched into the Tribunal, a 
 prisoner under armed escort, the public, more fickle than 
 the wind, were full of rejoicing over the fact that their word 
 and their will had obtained his release, and, to judge by 
 their jubilant cries, the once notorious murderer might have 
 been a king returning to throne and country after long exile. 
 A large section of the crowd forgot for the moment that 
 Other, who was left to His fate and condemned to die, they 
 were content to press round their own rescued man with 
 joyous greeting and laughter, praying him to partake of food 
 and wine with them at the nearest inn, or urging him to 
 accompany them in turn to their several homes. Breathless 
 and bewildered, and incongruously clad in the silk and gold-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 49 
 
 threaded garment his philanthropic admirer had wound about 
 him, Barabbas looked from right to left, wondering how best 
 he might elude the enthusiastic attentions which threatened 
 to overwhelm his small stock of patience. For he himself 
 was not elated with his triumph ; he knew, better than most 
 men, the true value of " friends" as this world goes ; and he 
 felt more weariness and impatience than anything else as his 
 eyes roved anxiously over the surging sea of heads in search 
 of one face that he fancied was sure to be there, a face that 
 for him was all he realised of heaven. But he failed to dis- 
 cover what he sought, and, chilled by his disappointment, he 
 scarcely heard the various items of news and gossip some of 
 his former acquaintances were pouring into his ears. All at 
 once a murmur ran from lip to lip, 
 
 " Look you, they scourge him !" 
 
 Like an ocean wave rolling inshore, the crowd, moved by 
 one instinct, turned, swaying impetuously back towards the 
 Hall of Judgment. Standing on tip-toe they craned their 
 necks over each other's shoulders to see what was going on, 
 men lifted tiny children in their arms, some few, princi- 
 pally women, uttered smothered exclamations of pity, but 
 on the whole a mercilessly pleased air of expectation pervaded 
 the throng. Barabbas, carried along by the force of the 
 mob, found himself facing the Tribunal once more, and being 
 a tall man he was able to command a better view than most 
 of those immediately around him. 
 
 "Brutes!" he muttered as he saw " Dogs ! Devils! To 
 strike a man defenceless ! coward bravery !" 
 
 And with strained eyes and heavily beating heart he 
 watched the scene. The Tribunal seemed now to be well- 
 nigh possessed by the Roman guards, for several extra 
 soldiers had been summoned to aid in the pitiless deed about 
 to be done. In the centre of a ring of bristling spears and 
 drawn battle-axes stood the " Nazarene," offering no resist- 
 ance to the rude buffetings of the men who violently stripped 
 Him of His upper garments, leaving His bare shoulders and 
 breast exposed to view. An officer meantime handed the 
 scourge to Pilate, a deadly-looking instrument made of sev- 
 eral lengths of knotted whip-cord, fringed with small nail- 
 like points of sharpened iron. It was part of the procurator's 
 formal duty to personally chastise a condemned criminal, 
 but the unhappy man upon whom in this dreadful instance 
 the allotted task now fell, shuddered in every limb, and, 
 c d 6
 
 50 
 
 BARABBAS 
 
 pushing away the barbarous thong, made a faint mute ges- 
 ture of denial. The officer waited, his dull heavy face ex- 
 hibiting as much surprise as discipline would allow. The 
 soldiers waited, staring inquisitively. And in equable sweet 
 ness and silence the Man of Nazareth also waited, the sun- 
 light giving a polished luminance to His bared shoulders and 
 arms, dazzling in their whiteness, statuesque in their symme- 
 try, the while He lifted His deep pensive eyes, and regarded 
 His miserable judge with a profound and most tender pity. 
 Caiaphas and his father-in-law exchanged vexed glances. 
 
 "Dost thou yet delay justice, Pilate?" questioned the 
 high-priest haughtily " Time presses. Do what thy duty 
 bids thee, strike !" 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BUT Pilate still hesitated, gazing blankly out into nothing- 
 ness. His face was pallid, his lips were set hard, his erect 
 figUre, clothed in rich attire, looked curiously stiff and lifeless 
 like that of a frozen man. Would that the sick qualm at 
 his heart might overcome him altogether, he thought, so that, 
 falling in a senseless swoon, he might escape the shame and 
 horror of striking that kingly Gentleness, that embodied Pa- 
 tience ! But life and consciousness throbbed through him, 
 albeit painfully and confusedly ; the people whom he was set 
 to govern, demanded of him the full performance of his work. 
 Mechanically he at last stretched forth his hand and grasped 
 the scourge, then, with a faltering step and downcast eyes 
 approached the Condemned. The soldiers, anticipating the 
 scourging, had notwithstanding Pilate's objection to bind 
 "that which maketh no resistance" tied their passive Cap- 
 tive's hands with rope, lest He should attempt to defend 
 Himself from the falling blows. On these needless and un- 
 merited bonds, Pilate first of all fixed his glance, a great 
 wrath and sorrow contending within him. But he was pow- 
 erless to alter or soften the conditions of the law, he was 
 the wretched tool of destiny, and with a bitter loathing of 
 himself and the shameful thing he was compelled to do, he 
 turned away his eyes and, . . . lifted the lash. It dropped 
 heavily with a stinging hiss on the tender flesh, again and
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 51 
 
 again it rose, . . . again and again it fell, . . . till the bright 
 blood sprang from beneath its iron points and splashed in red 
 drops on the marble pavement. . . . But no sound passed 
 the lips of the Divine Sufferer, not so much as a sigh of 
 pain, and no prophetic voice uplifted itself to proclaim the 
 truth, " He was wounded for our transgressions, and by His 
 stripes are we healed !" 
 
 Meanwhile, a strange and unaccountable silence possessed 
 the people watching outside, pressing close against one 
 another, they peered with eager curious eyes at the progress 
 of the punishment, till at last, when the scourge caught in 
 its cruel prongs a strand of the Captive's gold-glistening hair, 
 and, tearing it out, cast it, wet with blood, on the ground, a 
 girl in the crowd broke out into hysterical sobbing. The 
 sound of woman's weeping scared Pilate in his dreadful 
 task, he looked up, flushed and fevered, with wild eyes and 
 a wilder smile and paused. Zacharias, the usurer, hobbled 
 forward excitedly waving his jewelled staff in the air. 
 
 " To it again, and harder, most noble governor !" he yelled 
 in his cracked and tremulous voice, " To it again, with better 
 will ! Such blows as thine would scarcely hurt a child ! He 
 scourged others, let him taste of the thong himself! Ldok 
 you, he hath not winced nor cried out, he hath not yet felt 
 the lash. To it again in justice, excellent Pilate! in simple 
 justice! He hath scourged me, an aged man and honest, 
 verily it is right and fitting he should receive the sting in 
 his own flesh, else shall he die impenitent. Again, and yet 
 again, most worthy governor, but let the stripes be heavier !" 
 
 As he spoke, gesticulating violently, his stick suddenly 
 slipped from his shaking hand and dropped on the marble 
 floor, and a great pearl, loosened from its setting in the jew- 
 elled handle, flew out, rolled away like a bead and disap- 
 peared. With a shriek of anguish, the miserable man fell 
 on his knees and began to grope along the pavement with his 
 yellow claw-like fingers, shedding maudlin tears, while he en- 
 treated the impassive soldiers standing by to aid him in look- 
 ing for the precious lost gem. A grim smile went the round 
 of the band, but not a man moved. Moaning and whimper- 
 ing, the wretched usurer crept slowly on all-fours over the 
 floor of the Tribunal, keeping his eyes close to the ground, 
 and presenting the appearance of some loathly animal rather 
 than a man, the while he every now and again paused and 
 prodded with his filthy hands into every nook and corner in
 
 52 BARABBAS 
 
 hope to find the missing jewel. The loss was to him irrep- 
 urable, and in his grief and rage he had even forgotten his 
 desire of vengeance on the "Nazarene." Pilate, watching 
 him as he crawled about weeping childishly, was moved by 
 such a sense of pleasure at his discomfiture as to feel almost 
 light-hearted for the moment, and, breaking into a loud laugh 
 of unnatural hilarity, he flung away the blood-stained scourge 
 with the relieved air of one whose disagreeable task was now 
 finished. But Caiaphas was by no means satisfied. 
 
 " Thou hast given yon condemned malefactor but the 
 mildest scourging, Pilate," he said " Why hast thou cast 
 aside the lash so soon?" 
 
 Pilate's eyes flashed fire. 
 
 " Press not my humour too far, thou vengeful priest !" he 
 muttered breathlessly"! have done my accursed work. 
 See ye to the rest!" 
 
 Caiaphas retreated a step or two, somewhat startled. There 
 was something in the expression of Pilate's face that was 
 truly terrifying, a dark and ghastly anguish that for the 
 moment disturbed even the high-priest's cold and self-satisfied 
 dignity. After a brief pause, however, he recovered his 
 wonted composure, and by a sign to the centurion in com- 
 mand, intimated that the scourging was over and that the 
 Prisoner was now abandoned to His fate. And, this culmi- 
 nating point having been reached, all the members of the 
 Sanhedrim, together with the scribes and elders present, 
 saluted the governor ceremoniously and left the Tribunal, 
 walking slowly down two by two into the lower hall called 
 " Prsetorium." Thither too, the soldiers were preparing to 
 lead or drag the doomed Nazarene. Filing away in solemn 
 and dignified order, the sacerdotal procession gradually disap- 
 peared, and only Pilate lingered, chained to the spot by a sort 
 of horrible fascination. Sheltering himself from the public 
 view behind a massive marble column, he leaned against that 
 cold support in utter weariness, broken in body and mind by 
 the fatigue and, to him, inexplicable anguish of the morn- 
 ing's trial. In his dazed brain he strove hard to realise 
 what it was, what it could be, that made him feel as if the 
 most unutterable crime ever committed on earth was about to 
 be perpetrated this very day in this very city of Jerusalem. 
 He had become a torturing problem to himself, he could 
 not understand his own overwhelming emotion. His wife's 
 message had greatly disturbed him ; he had thrust the scroll
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 53 
 
 hurriedly in his breast, but now he drew it out and once more 
 re-read the strange injunction, 
 
 "Have thou nothing to do with that just man, for I have 
 suffered this day many things in a dream because of him" 
 
 Mysterious words ! what could they mean ? What could 
 she, Justitia, the proud, fearless and beautiful woman of 
 Rome have " suffered" ? In a dream, too, she who scarcely 
 ever dreamed, who laughed at auguries and omens, and 
 had even been known to say satirical things against the 
 gods themselves ! She was totally unimaginative ; and to a 
 certain extent her nature was hard and pitiless, or what her 
 own people would have termed " heroic." She would look 
 on, pleased and placid, at the most hideous gladiatorial con- 
 tests and other barbarous spectacles then in vogue in her 
 native city, when she was but twelve years of age she had 
 watched unmoved the slow torturing of a slave condemned to 
 be flayed alive for theft and perjury. Hence, this action of 
 hers in protesting against the condemnation of any particular 
 criminal, was sufficiently unusual and unlike her to be re- 
 markable. "Have thou nothing to do with that just man!" 
 What would she say if she could see that same ''just man" 
 now ! Pilate, looking fearfully round from his retired coign 
 of vantage, turned sick and cold at the horror of the scene 
 that was being enacted, but though he would have given 
 his life to interfere he knew that he dared not. The people 
 had declared their will, and that will must needs be done. 
 There was no help and no hope for a Truth unanimously con- 
 demned by this world's liars. There never has been, and 
 there never shall be ! 
 
 The previous intense silence of the multitude had given 
 way to fierce clamour ; the air resounded with discordant bel- 
 lowings as though a herd of wild beasts had broken loose to 
 ravage the earth. The soldiery, no longer restrained by the 
 presence of sacerdotal authority, and moreover incited to out- 
 rage by the yells of the mob, were violently pushing their 
 Prisoner along with the but-ends of their weapons in a brutal 
 endeavour to make Him lose His footing and fall headlong 
 down the steps that led into the Praetorium. Their savage 
 buffetings were unprovoked assaults, dealt out of a merely 
 gratuitous desire to insult the sublime Sufferer, for He Him- 
 self gave them no cause of affront, but went with them 
 peaceably. His shoulders still bare, were bleeding from the 
 scourge, His hands and arms were still tightly bound, yet 
 6*
 
 9 4 BARABBAS 
 
 neither pain nor humiliation had lessened the erect majesty 
 of His bearing or the aerial pride of his step, and His beau- 
 tiful eyes kept the lustrous, dreamy splendour of a thought 
 and a knowledge beyond all human ken. Pressing close about 
 Him His ruffianly guards derided Him with mocking ges- 
 tures and laughter, shouting obscenities in His ears and sing- 
 ing scraps of ribald songs. A scarlet mantle had been left 
 by chance on one of the benches in the hall, and this was 
 spied out by one of the men who snatched it up in haste and 
 flung it across the Captive's wounded shoulders. It trailed 
 behind Him in regal flowing folds ; and the fellow who had 
 thrown it thus in position, gave a wild shout, am 1 pointing 
 with his pike exclaimed derisively, 
 
 " Hail, King of the Jews /" 
 
 Shrieks of applause and bursts of laughter answered this 
 ebullition of wit, and Barabbas alone, out of all the callous 
 crowd made protest. 
 
 " Shame !" he cried, " Shame on you, Romans ! Shame 
 on you, people of Jerusalem 1 Why mock that which is con- 
 demned ?" 
 
 But his voice was lost in the uproar around him, or if not 
 utterly lost, it fell unheeded on the ears of those who did not 
 choose to hear. And anon, a fresh burst of taunting merri- 
 ment split the air into harsh echoings, a new phase of bitter 
 jesting moved the crowd, the " King" was being crowned ! 
 A spearman acting on the initiative given by his fellow, had 
 leaped into the outer garden-court, and had there torn from 
 the wall three long branches of a climbing rose, thick with 
 thorns. Pulling off all the delicate buds, blossoms and leaves, 
 he twisted the prickly stems into a coronal and with this ap- 
 proached the silent Christ, his companions greeting him with 
 hoarse yells of approving laughter. 
 
 " Hail, King of the Jews /" he cried, as he placed it on the 
 Divine brows, pressing the spiky circlet fiercely down into the 
 tender flesh till the pained blood sprang beneath its pressure 
 "Hail, all hail!" 
 
 And he struck the fair and tranquil face with his steel 
 gauntlet 
 
 " A sceptre I A sceptre for the King !" shouted a little 
 lad, running out from the crowd excitedly, and waving a light 
 reed aloft as he came. The soldiers laughed again, and 
 snatching the reed, set it upright between the bound wrists 
 of their blameless Captive. Then with devilish howlings
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 55 
 
 and wild gestures a group of disorderly ruffians rushed for- 
 ward pell-mell and dropped on their knees, turning up their 
 grirny grinning faces in pretended worship and mocking ser- 
 vility the while they yelled in frantic chorus, 
 
 " Hail ! Nail, King of the. Jews !" 
 
 They might as well have stormed the Sun, or flung insults 
 at a Star. Mystically removed above and beyond them all 
 was the Man of Sorrows, His lips, close set in that won- 
 drous curve of beauty such as sculptors give to the marble 
 god of song, opened not for any utterance of word or cry ; 
 scarcely indeed did He appear to breathe, so solemn and 
 majestic a stillness encompassed Him. That tranquil silence 
 irritated the mob, it implied perfect courage, indifference 
 to fate, heroic fortitude, and sublime endurance, and thus 
 seemed to be a dignified, dumbly declared scorn of the foolish 
 fury of the people. 
 
 " A curse on him !" cried a man in the crowd " Hath he 
 no tongue ? Hath he no more doctrines to teach before he 
 dies ? Make him speak !" 
 
 " Speak, fellow !" roared a soldier, striking him heavily on 
 the shoulder with the handle of his spear, " Thou hast bab- 
 bled oft of both sin and righteousness, how darest thou 
 now hold thy peace ?" 
 
 But neither taunt nor blow could force an answer from the 
 immortal " King." His noble features were composed and 
 calm, His luminous eyes looked straight ahead as though 
 beholding some glory afar off in shining distance, and only 
 the slow drops of blood starting from under the sharp points 
 of His thorny crown, and staining the bright hair that clus- 
 tered on His temples, gave any material evidence of life or 
 feeling. 
 
 "He hath a devil!" shouted another man "He is hard- 
 ened in impenitence and feels nothing. Away with him! 
 Let him be crucified! 1 ' 
 
 While this incessant clamour was going on, Pilate had 
 stood apart, watching the scene with the doubtful and con- 
 fused sensations of a man in delirium. As in some horrid 
 vision, he beheld the stately Figure, draped in the scarlet 
 robe and crowned with thorns, being hustled along the Prae- 
 torium towards the open court outside which had to be 
 reached by yet another descending flight of steps, and, 
 yielding to a sudden impulse he moved quickly forward, so 
 that he came in the way of the advancing guard. Seeing
 
 56 BARABBAS 
 
 him appear thus unexpectedly, the centurion in command 
 paused. The soldiers too, somewhat taken aback at being 
 caught in their brutal horse-play by no less a personage than 
 the governor himself, ceased their noisy shouts abruptly and 
 rested on their weapons, sullenly silent. Once more, and for 
 the last time on earth, Pilate ventured to look straight at the 
 Condemned. Bruised, bound and bleeding, the twisted rose- 
 thorns setting their reluctant prongs ever more deeply into 
 his brows, the "Nazarene" met that questioning, appealing, 
 anguished human gaze with a proud yet sweet serenity ; while 
 Pilate, staring wildly in terror and wonderment, saw that 
 above the crown of thorns there glittered a crown of light, 
 light woven in three intertwisted rays of dazzling gold and 
 azure, which cast prismatic reflections upward, like meteor- 
 flames flashing between earth and heaven. A Crown of Light ! 
 ... a mystic Circle, widening, ever widening into burning 
 rings that seemed endless, . . . how came such glory there ? 
 What could it mean ? . . . Like a drowning man desperately 
 clutching at a floating spar while sinking in the depths of 
 the sea, Pilate clutched vaguely and half blindly at the flow- 
 ing scarlet mantle which, as a symbol of the world's mockery 
 robed the regal form of the world's Redeemer, and dragged 
 at it as though he sought to pull its wearer forward. The 
 clamorous touch was obeyed ; the Man of Nazareth sufiered 
 Himself to be led by His judge to the summit of the last 
 flight of steps leading downwards and outwards from the 
 Praetorium. There, He fully faced the assembled multitude 
 in all His sorrowful sublimity and tragic splendour, and for a 
 moment deep silence ruled the throng. Then, suddenly heart- 
 stricken and overwhelmed at the sight of such pure and pite- 
 ous majesty, Pilate dropped the edge of the scarlet robe as 
 though it had scorched his flesh. 
 
 " ECCE HOMO !" he exclaimed, tossing up his arms as he 
 shrieked the words out in his native tongue, careless as to 
 whether they were understood or not by the startled Jewish 
 crowd" ECCE HOMO !" 
 
 And breaking into a wild fit of delirious laughter and 
 weeping, he flung his mantle desperately across his mouth to 
 stifle the agonized convulsion, and swerving aside giddily, fell, 
 face forward on the ground, insensible.
 
 A DREAM. OF THE WORLDS TRAGEDY 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A LOUD cry went up from the multitude, and in the con- 
 sternation and confusion which ensued, the crowd swiftly 
 divided itself into various sections. Some rushed to proffer 
 assistance in lifting the unconscious governor and carrying him 
 to his palace ; others gathered once more around the released 
 Barabbas with fresh adulation and words of welcome, but 
 by far the larger half of the mob prepared to follow the 
 Divine Condemned and see Him die. Fearful and unnatural 
 as it seems, it is nevertheless true that in all ages the living 
 have found a peculiar and awful satisfaction in watching the 
 agonies of the dying. To be alive and to look on while a 
 fellow-creature gasps out in torture the last reluctant breath, 
 is a position that has always given a mysteriously horrible 
 pleasure to the majority. And on this particular day more 
 than the customary morbid diversion was expected, for a 
 rumour had gone the round of the populace that two notori- 
 ous thieves were to be executed at the same time as the 
 young " prophet' ' out of Galilee. Such a spectacle was as- 
 suredly worth waiting for ! and accordingly they waited, a 
 motley-garbed, restless, expectant mass of men and women, 
 the perpetual hum of their voices sounding like the noise 
 made by thousands of swarming bees, the while they occa- 
 sionally varied the monotony of speech by singing, stamping 
 and whistling. The Roman soldiers, greatly disconcerted by 
 Pilate's sudden and inexplicable illness, and in their own mind 
 superstitiously connecting it with some spell they imagined 
 to have been secretly wrought by the " Nazarene," were now 
 in no mood for trifling. Dragging off the scarlet robe from 
 their Prisoner, they hastily flung His own raiment upon Him, 
 and with many dark and threatening looks, led him forth, 
 closely guarded. 
 
 The morning was intensely hot and bright, in the outer 
 court a fountain was in full play, casting up a silvery column 
 of foam-dust to the burning blue of the sky. The whole 
 band of soldiers halted while their centurion conferred apart 
 with the criminal executioner, whose duty it was to provide 
 crosses suitable for the legal mode of punishment then in
 
 58 BARABBAS 
 
 vogue, and who also was bound to assist in nailing those 
 condemned in the barbarous position needful to ensure a 
 lingering and horrible death. Three crosses were required 
 that day, he said, and he was in doubt as to whether any 
 that he had were sufficiently strong enough to sustain the 
 powerful and splendid figure of the Captive now pointed out 
 to him. 
 
 " I' faith I am sorry he is condemned," he muttered with a 
 touch of commiseration in his rough accents " He hath a 
 noble presence, and of a surety to slay him thus shamefully 
 is an error, Petronius. Believe me, so thou wilt find it ! 
 llememberest thou not how one of thine own calling, dwell- 
 ing in Capernaum, had his servant sick of a palsy, and yonder 
 man did heal him without so much as visiting the house 
 where he lay ? I tell thee, mischief will come of his death. 
 And now I look at thee, thou hast a sober air, thou art not 
 in tune with this deed, methinks?" 
 
 Petronius lowered his eyes, and meditatively traced out the 
 pattern of the pavement with the point of his drawn weapon. 
 
 " Our governor hath not condemned him" he said in a 
 low tone " And therefore Rome is not responsible. Pilate 
 would have saved him. but the Jews have willed otherwise." 
 
 " Ay, ay !" grumbled the executioner, himself a native of 
 Apulia, " The Jews, the Jews ! Dark and bloody are their 
 annals, Jove knoweth ! and they have been known to murder 
 their own children to please the savage deity they worship. 
 Look you, the fat priests devour the firstlings of a flock in 
 their own houses, pretending 'tis their God who hath such 
 greedy appetite, and those among them who accumulate 
 more gold than is lawful will swear that even high rates of 
 usury are the divine blessing on the righteous ! Hypocrites 
 all, Petronius ! but yonder Prisoner is not a Jew ?" 
 
 The centurion looked wistfully at the Condemned, now re- 
 clothed in His own white garments, but still wearing the 
 crown of thorns. A smile irradiated His fair face, His soft 
 eyes were watching with tenderness the dainty caperings of a 
 butterfly that fluttered for mere joyous caprice just near enough 
 to the fountain to catch a drop or two on its azure wings, and 
 then danced off again high up into the sunshine. Eiren so 
 absorbed and gentle might have been His aspect when He 
 said, " Behold the lilies of the field! They toil not, neither 
 do they spin, and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all 
 his glory was not arrayed like one of these /"
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 59 
 
 "He is not, he cannot be a Jew?" repeated the execu- 
 tioner questioningly. 
 
 " Yea verily he is a Jew," replied Petronius at last with a 
 slight sigh " Or so it is reported. He is of that vile Naza- 
 reth ; the son of Joseph the carpenter there, and Mary hia 
 mother is, or was, here, a while ago with the women." 
 
 The executioner shook his head obstinately. 
 
 " Thou wilt never make me believe it !" he said " He 
 hath the air of an alien to this land. Look you, there is no 
 face like his in the crowd, he is neither Greek nor Roman 
 nor Egyptian, but though I cannot fix his race I would 
 swear his father was never a Jew ! And as for the cross, ye 
 will all have to wait while I go and test which is the strongest 
 and least worn, for, on my life, it must lift up a Hercules 1 
 Seest thou not what height and muscle ? what plenitude of 
 vigour ? By Jupiter ! an' I were he I would make short work 
 of the guard !" 
 
 Chuckling hoarsely at what he considered an excellent jest, 
 he disappeared on his gruesome errand, taking three or four 
 of the soldiers with him. The rest of the troop remained 
 surrounding the " Nazarene," while the crowd of spectators 
 increased every moment, extending itself far into the street 
 beyond. All the people were growing more and more excited 
 and impatient, some of them were conscious of a certain 
 vague disappointment and irritation. There was no amuse- 
 ment in seeing a Man condemned to death if He refused to be 
 interested in His own fate, and stood waiting as resignedly and 
 patiently as this " prophet of Nazareth" who looked more 
 happy than pained. Several minutes elapsed, and the cross 
 had not yet been brought. The enforced delay seemed likely 
 to be prolonged, and several thirsty souls edged themselves out 
 of the crush to get refreshment while they had time and 
 opportunity. Among these was Barabbas. Some former old 
 acquaintances of his had taken possession of him, and now 
 insisted upon his accompanying them, somewhat against his 
 will, into an inn close by, where they drank his health with 
 boisterous acclamations. Barabbas ate and drank with them, 
 and the natural avidity of an almost starving man enabled 
 him to assume the air of a boon companionship he was far 
 from feeling, but when his appetite was moderately appeased, 
 he pushed away the remaining morsels and sat silent and ab- 
 stracted in the midst of the loud laughter and jesting around 
 him.
 
 60 B ARABS AS 
 
 4 ' What ails thee, man?" cried one of his entertainers 
 presently u Thou art duller than a dying dog ! Where is 
 thy once reckless merriment ?" 
 
 " Gone !" answered Barabbas harshly, his black eyes grow- 
 ing more sombre and serious as he spoke, " In the old days I 
 was merry, and I knew not why, now I am sad, and know 
 not the cause of my sadness. I have suffered long, I am 
 weary ! and, . . . and, . . . methinks it is a crime to slay 
 yon Nazarene 1" 
 
 His words were met with laughter. 
 
 " By my soul, Barabbas," exclaimed one man, clanking his 
 pewter goblet on the table as a sign that he desired it refilled. 
 
 " Thou hast come out of prison with the sentiments of a 
 woman ! Thou, the wolf, hast crawled forth a lamb ! Ha ha 
 ha ha ! Who would have thought it ? Thou that didst so 
 neatly slip thy knife into the mealy maw of Gabrias, thou, of 
 all men whimperest for another death which concerns thee not, 
 and is, by all the laws, deserved." 
 
 "'Tis not deserved!" muttered Barabbas "The Man is 
 innocent !" 
 
 He paused, and rose from his seat involuntarily. His com- 
 panions stopped drinking and stared at him. 
 
 "I tell ye all," he continued firmly " there is no sin in 
 that young Prophet. He hath done many good things by 
 your own report, and, looking at him a while since I 
 saw" 
 
 He broke off, there was a strange terror in his eyes and 
 he shuddered. 
 
 " What?" cried his friends in chorus " Surely thou hast a 
 devil, thou also ! What sawest thou ?" 
 
 " Nothing !" and Barabbas turned upon them with a chill 
 smile " Nothing that ye would have seen or cared to see !" 
 
 They all regarded him in open-eyed wonderment. Was this 
 indeed Barabbas ? this meditative, wistful, thinking man ? 
 Was this the lawless, wild associate of the roystering band of 
 rebels who, with a little surface knowledge and bombastic 
 prating in the open streets had actually succeeded, not so very 
 long ago, in disturbing the peace of the city of Jerusalem? 
 And while they remained silent, dumbfoundered and perplexed, 
 a calm voice, melodious yet ironical, suddenly addressed them 
 
 " Pardon me, excellent sirs, for breaking in upon cheerful 
 converse, but I seek to pay homage where homage is due, 
 and I would fain give humble greeting, I also, to him who is
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 61 
 
 elected of the people. Great are the children of Israel, be- 
 loved in all ages of the one true God who naturally hath no 
 sort of interest in the fates of other nations ! great is their 
 verdict on every question , and for ever unerring their decision I 
 Great must he be who fortunately wins their favour, there- 
 fore, great is Barabbas, and to him I proffer salutation !" 
 
 No language could adequately describe the various inflections 
 of tone in which this little speech was given. Every note in 
 the gamut of delicate satire seemed sounded, and instinctively 
 all present turned to look at the speaker. And as they looked, 
 many shrank back in evident apprehension, Barabbas how- 
 ever, being unacquainted with the new-comer, regarded him 
 indifferently as he would any other stranger, though not with- 
 out a certain touch of curiosity. He saw before him an olive- 
 complexioned man of rather small stature, slight in build, yet 
 apparently wiry and vigorous, with a somewhat long oval face, 
 straight black brows, and eyes so glittering and strangely- 
 coloured that they might have been iridescent jewels set in 
 his head rather than organs of vision. They were dark eyes 
 apparently, but there was a curious dull gold tint in the iris 
 like clouded amber, that made them look almost light at times 
 and gave them a singularly unearthly lustre and expression. 
 Their owner was clad in a foreign garb of soft, yellowish 
 material girded about him with a broad band of flexible gold, 
 the upper part of his loose mantle formed a kind of hood 
 or cowl which was partially pulled over his thick black hair, 
 and fastened at his throat with a clasp of opals. He seemed 
 discreetly amused at the disquieting effect his appearance had 
 on most of the men assembled at the inn, but he advanced 
 nevertheless and bowed profoundly to Barabbas, who gave him 
 no other response than a stare. 
 
 " Excellent Barabbas !" he continued in the same curiously 
 cold yet perfectly sweet accents, " Deny me not I pray thee, 
 the satisfaction of thy friendship ! I am but a wanderer and 
 an alien in these provinces of Judaea so specially favoured by 
 a discriminating Jehovah, a veritable barbarian in my ways, 
 knowing little, though studying much, but in matters pertain- 
 ing to thy welfare, thou shalt perchance find me useful, whether 
 thy quest be of war or love !" 
 
 Barabbas started, one of his friends pulled him aside, whis- 
 pering, 
 
 " 'Tis Melchior. Best humour him ! He hath an evil nama 
 and holdeth sovereignty over devils !"
 
 62 BARABBAS 
 
 " I know him not" said Barabbas aloud, disdaining the 
 warniug nods and winks of the various members of the com- 
 pany present, "And therefore his greeting profiteth me 
 nothing." 
 
 The stranger smiled. 
 
 " I love honesty !" he said suavely, " And thou, Barabbas, 
 art honest!" A rough ripple of subdued mirth went the 
 round of the men, and Barabbas winced as though the point 
 of a lash had stung his flesh. " True it is that thou knowest 
 me not ; equally true it is that thou shall know me. Melchior 
 is my name as thy ear-whisperer hath stated, but of sovereignty 
 over devils I am innocent, inasmuch as I rule no men !" His 
 eyes lightened and flashed a topaz brilliancy under the heavy 
 blackness of his brows as he continued " What motley garb 
 is this?" and he felt between finger and thumb the texture of 
 the embroidered mantle which had been flung round Barabbas 
 on his release from prison " Thou art all but naked beneath 
 this glistering show, a noble emblem of humanity in very 
 truth 1 Even thus did I expect to find thee, robed as a king 
 without, but within, the merest squalid nudity ! Follow me 
 and be cleansed of thy prison foulness, I have my dwelling 
 for the present here in this hostelry, and in mine upper cham- 
 ber thou can'st prank thyself out in fitting attire to meet the 
 eyes of thy beloved, for as thou art, most surely she will laugh 
 at thee ! Hath she not laughed at thee before ? Come and be 
 garmented for festival !" 
 
 But Barabbas held his ground, though his dark cheek flushed 
 at the stranger's familiar allusions to his " beloved." Drawing 
 the rich robe he wore more closely about him, he gave a ges- 
 ture of haughty refusal. 
 
 " I obey no man's bidding," he said, " I have not been so 
 lately set at liberty that I should now become a slave. Think 
 me not churlish that I refuse thy proffered service, time passes 
 swiftly and behold, in the space of .moments I go hence with 
 the multitude, I fain would see the death of the condemned 
 Nazarene." 
 
 Melchior's face changed. A dark shadow swept across his 
 features, an expression of mingled sorrow and solemnity. 
 
 " Thou shalt most assuredly behold that death !" he said, 
 " For will not all the world be there? 'Tis Humanity's great 
 Feast of Slaughter 1 the apotheosis of the Jews ! A true 
 gala ! a thing to remember ! mark me, a thing to remember 
 I tell thee 1 For in ages to come perchance, the story of how
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 63 
 
 this Man of Nazareth was slain to satisfy the blood-thirstiness 
 of the God-elected children of Israel, may serve as a wonder 
 and terror of time !" He paused, his countenance cleared, 
 and he resumed his former ironical tone, " Yea, thou shalt 
 see the prophet die, but believe me when I tell thee that she 
 whom thou lovest will also be there, and hast thou the look of 
 a lover ? clad thus foolishly, and uncouth as an escaped bear ?" 
 He laughed lightly. " Yet nevertheless I will not ask thee to 
 do my bidding, most self-reliant and excellent Barabbas 1 I do 
 but tell thee that in my upper chamber here thou can'st be 
 decently garbed if so thou wiliest. And maybe thou shalt hear 
 private news of import. Please thy humour ! Follow, not 
 me, but thine own inclination 1" 
 
 He nodded carelessly to the staring company, and passing 
 through the room with a soft almost cat-like tread, he began 
 to ascend a dark and narrow flight of stone stairs leading to 
 the second floor of the inn. Startled and bewildered by his 
 mysterious words and manner, Barabbas watched the yellow 
 glimmer of his garments vanishing upward by degrees till he 
 had quite disappeared, then, like a man driven by some irre- 
 sistible necessity, he muttered an incoherent excuse to his 
 amazed companions, and in a blind, unreasoning, unconquerable 
 impulse, rushed after him. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " HE is mad !" 
 
 " Melchior, or Barabbas, which ?" 
 
 " Both !" 
 
 These and other similar exclamations broke from most of 
 the men assembled in the common room of the inn. Melchior's 
 sudden entrance, his conversation with the newly-liberated 
 criminal, and finally, his departure followed by the headlong 
 exit of Barabbas himself had all taken place within a few 
 minutes, and the incident had left an impression of stupefied 
 wonderment on those who had witnessed it. 
 
 " Who is this Melchior ? what is his calling ?" demanded 
 one man suspiciously " What country is he of? how cometh 
 he here in Jerusalem ?" 
 
 There was a silence. No one seemed ready with a reply.
 
 64 BARABBAS 
 
 The keeper of the inn, a middle-aged Jew 01 servile and pro 
 pitiatory manners, edged himself gradually within the circle of 
 his customers, and coughing softly to attract attention, said 
 
 " Methinks, good sirs, ye mistake him greatly in giving him 
 an evil repute merely for the unexplained frequency of his 
 visits to the city. He is assuredly a man of wealth and wis- 
 dom, though as to what land he journeyed from, none can 
 say truly, though of my own poor opinion, I would deem his 
 birthplace in Egypt. Concerning his business here he hath 
 none save the following of his own pleasure, he comes and 
 goes, and hath ever left some poor man the richer for his 
 sojourn." 
 
 " Like enough thou speakest well of him, Ben Ezra !" 
 laughed one of his auditors " Thou knowest the trick of 
 lining thy pouch with gold ! 'Twould be but a fool's error to 
 wag thy tongue against this alien whom thou shelterest while 
 thou dost charge him double fees for food and lodgement ! 
 Go to! Thou can'st not judge of him fairly, good ready 
 money doth quickly purchase good opinion !" 
 
 Ben Ezra smiled amicably and began to clear away some of 
 the emptied pewter flagons. 
 
 " Doubtless ye are all well-skilled in such matters" he re- 
 plied indifferently " No host maligns a paying customer. 
 Nevertheless, the worthy Melchior comporteth himself with 
 such excellent good discretion that I see no cause wherein ye 
 should take fear of him, he hath done no man harm." 
 
 " Not that thou knowest of, belike" said a surly fellow, 
 rising from his seat, and preparing to depart " But they that 
 are reported harmless, often by spells and incantations, inflict 
 most deadly injuries. Witness yon crazed and sinful Prophet 
 of Nazareth ! hath he not the face of an angel ? and yet he 
 hath cursed the Holy Temple, and sworn that not one stone 
 shall remain upon another to show what it hath been 1 Lo, 
 for such evil boasting his death shall scarce atone ! And did 
 not his mere glance this morning send Pilate almost mad, and 
 plunge him in a deadly swoon ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay ! Thou sayest truly !" 
 
 And, reminded of the impending triple execution about to 
 take place, the whole company rose up to leave the inn, and 
 began to pay their various reckonings with the landlord. 
 While they were thus engaged, a great roar went up from the 
 waiting multitude outside, a hoarse discordant sound of sav- 
 agery and menace. Glancing comprehensively at one another
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 65 
 
 the party of wine-drinkers hastily settled their accounts and 
 made a general rush from the inn, out into the street, where, 
 though they knew it not, the most strangely imposing and 
 wondrous spectacle that was ever seen or would ever be seen 
 in the world awaited them, the spectacle of a God led forth 
 to die ! 
 
 The crowd had increased so enormously that the road was 
 completely blocked. Tradesmen with hand- carts and pedlars 
 leading pack-mules could not pass, and had to turn back and 
 find their way through the dark and tortuous by-streets of the 
 city to their various destinations. Children lost themselves in 
 the crush, and went about crying, in search of their parents, 
 a party of travellers newly arrived from Damascus by the 
 caravan route, got wedged with their worn-out horses and 
 mules in the thick of the mob and could not move an inch. 
 As far as the eye could see, the vari-coloured throng heaved 
 restlessly to and fro under the blaze of the brilliant sun, and 
 moving slowly and majestically in the midst of all, came the 
 thorn-crowned " Nazarene." His hands and arms had been 
 newly and more strongly bound, and were now tied behind 
 Him so that He could not touch anything, or attempt by so 
 much as a gesture to awaken the sympathies of the people. 
 Soldiers encircled Him with a ring of glittering spears, and 
 following Him closely came four men, of whom one was the 
 executioner, labouring under the cumbrous weight of a huge 
 Cross some ten feet in height, the lower end of which scraped 
 gratingly along in the dust, the thick beam being too heavy to 
 lift up completely. As they caught sight of the cruel instru- 
 ment of death, the populace set up an ecstatic yell of ferocious 
 applause and satisfaction, and turned their faces all with one 
 accord towards the place of execution, which they understood 
 to be a small hill outside the town, sometimes called Golgotha, 
 and sometimes Calvary. At the moment when the huge 
 human mass thus began to move in one pre-determined direc- 
 tion, two additional spectators joined the swarming rabble, 
 they were Barabbas and Melchior. Barabbas, clad in tunic, 
 vest and mantle of a dense blackish purple, bordered with 
 gold, his rough beard combed and trimmed, and a loose hood 
 of white linen pulled over the thick mass of his wild black hair, 
 looked a very different personage to the half-naked, reckless 
 ruffian who had been set free of the criminal dungeons that 
 very morning. He kept close beside his mysterious new ac- 
 quaintance, watching him anxiously from time to time a* 
 6*
 
 66 BARABBAS 
 
 though afraid to lose sight of him. His countenance was 
 grave and composed and not without a certain harsh beauty of 
 expression, and he walked with an informal grace and ease 
 that was almost dignity. Now and then his eyes wandered over 
 the crowd in front of him to the white figure of the condemned 
 "King of the Jews," whose shining head, circled with the 
 prickly coronal, rose visibly like a featured Star above all the 
 rest of the surging thousands. 
 
 " 'Tis a crime to slay the innocent," he muttered. " Con- 
 done it as they will, it is a crime." 
 
 Melchior gave him a keen critical glance. 
 
 " Nothing is a crime if the people swear by it" he said 
 " And to slay the innocent hath ever been man's delight. 
 Doth he not trap the singing-birds and draw his knife across 
 the throat of the fawn ? Doth he not tear up the life of a 
 blameless tree and choke the breath of flowers in the grasp of 
 his hand? What would'st thou, thou meditative black-browed 
 son of Judaea ? Physically or morally, the innocent are always 
 slain in this world. No one believes in a pure body still less 
 do they believe in a pure soul. Pure soul and pure body are 
 there in yonder thorn- crowned Monarch of many lands, and 
 lo you how we all troop forth to see him die !" 
 
 Barabbas was silent, troublously revolving in his own mind 
 the phrase " Monarch of many lands." 
 
 " What is death ?" pursued Melchior, " Why doth it seem 
 so hard a matter? "Tis the end of all men. Yet whosoever 
 slays the guilty shall be punished, witness thyself, Barabbas, 
 who did'st rid the world of a lying knave. Clad in the skin 
 of hypocrisy was the eminent Gabrias, and thou did'st send him 
 into outer darkness with one thrust of thy blade ! That was 
 not wisely done, thou fierce-blooded rascal ! for he was an evil 
 man, protected by the law, whereas a good and just Man walk- 
 eth yonder to His death, condemned by the Jews, and the 
 Jews are not punished yet !" 
 
 As he finished speaking there was a loud crashing noise and 
 a shout, and the march of the multitude suddenly stopped. 
 The great Cross had slipped from the grasp of the men sup- 
 porting it, and its huge weight falling heavily sideways had 
 well-nigh crushed one of the crowd who had ventured too near 
 it. It was a matter of some difficulty to get it up from the 
 ground again, and when the bearers had at last succeeded in 
 partially raising it, they paused to take breath, and looked 
 about them for assistance. At that moment a huge, broad-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 67 
 
 shouldered, black -haired, tawny-skinned fellow was seen to be 
 elbowing his way along in a contrary direction to that in which 
 the mob were pressing, and as he came, many of the people 
 shouted noisy and derisive greetings. His great height made 
 him conspicuous, for he towered above all the heads of the 
 throng except that of the " Nazarene" and the long almond 
 shape of his eyes, his dark skin, and manner of dress bespoke 
 him of a very different race to the elect of Judaea. As he 
 pushed through the press like a giant thrusting aside pig- 
 mies, some of the soldiers recognised him, and shouted his 
 name. 
 
 " Simon !" 
 
 " Come hither, Simon ! Lend thine aid ! Hast thou Rufus 
 and Alexander with thee?" 
 
 " What news from Cyrene ?" 
 
 " Thou art here in good time, Simon ! For once we shall 
 find use for thee !" 
 
 Hearing these and sundry other vociferations, the black- 
 browed Cyrenian paused and looked scornfully about him. 
 
 "What is this fool's feast of howling?" he demanded in 
 an angry tone " Are you emptying Jerusalem of her thieves 
 and rascals ? Then shall the city be left desolate ! Whither 
 go ye ?" Then, as his fiery eyes roved over the throng and 
 he caught sight of the fair face of the doomed Captive 
 " What enslaved Prince have ye there ?" 
 
 Wild yells and execrations drowned his voice, and a con- 
 siderable portion of the mob closed in and began to hustle 
 him roughly. 
 
 " Art thou drunken with new wine that thou dost see a 
 prince in a malefactor ? Thieves and rascals dost thou call 
 us, thou dog !" 
 
 " Let him bear the Cross of the Nazarene !" shouted one 
 of the roughs, " He hath often boasted he hath the strength 
 of four men !" 
 
 " Ay, ay ! Let him carry the Cross ! 'Tis fitting toil for 
 a Cyrenian jack-ass such as he !" 
 
 And they continued to press round him with much hooting 
 and swearing. The huge Simon was about to strike out with 
 his fists and fight his way free of them all, when suddenly, 
 right across the heads of the multitude, he met the straight, 
 luminous, penetrating look of the Christ. Something shot 
 through his veins like fire, his strong limbs trembled, a 
 strange surprise and fear benumbed his mental faculties,
 
 68 BARABBAS 
 
 and he mechanically allowed himself to be pushed along to 
 the spot where the bearers of the Cross still rested, taking 
 breath, and wiping the sweat from their brows." 
 
 " Welcome, Simon !" said one of them with a grin " Thy 
 broad back shall for once do us good service ! Where are thy 
 sons?" 
 
 " What need ye of them ?" growled Simon roughly, 
 " Surely they have been in Jerusalem these many days." 
 
 " Rufus hath been wine-bibbing," piped a lad standing 
 by, " And Alexander hath been seen oft at the money- 
 changers' !" 
 
 " And thou art a prating infant," retorted Simon " Who 
 gave thee leave to note the actions of grown men? In 
 Gyrene thou would'st be whipped for opening thy mouth 
 before thy betters." 
 
 " Callest thou thyself my betters !" said the boy derisively, 
 " Thou mud-skinned rascal ! Take up the Cross and see 
 thou stumble not !" 
 
 For one second Simon looked as though he were about to 
 strike the lad to the earth, but he was surrounded by the 
 Jewish mob and the Roman soldiers, and there was the mag- 
 netic impression upon him of two splendid sorrowful Eyes 
 that had, in one lightning glance, expressed a silent wish, a 
 dumb yet irresistible command ; and therefore he stood mute, 
 displaying no resentment. Nor did he make the least attempt 
 to resist when, with jeers and laughter, the soldiers lifted the 
 great Cross and laid its entire, unsupported weight upon his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " How likest thou that, thou giant of the mountain and 
 the sea!" screamed an excitable old woman in the crowd, 
 shaking her wrinkled fist at him, " Wilt vaunt again of thy 
 city set on a hill, and the vigour thou inhalest from thy tufts 
 of pine? Shall we not hear thy sinews crack, thou ruffian 
 of Gyrene, who doth dare to mock the children of Israel 1" 
 
 But Simon replied not. He had settled the Cross steadily 
 in position, and now, clasping its lower beam with both mus- 
 cular arms, appeared to carry its massive weight with extraor- 
 dinary and even pleasurable ease. The soldiers gathered 
 round him in amaze, such herculean vigour was something 
 of a miracle, and awakened their reluctant admiration. Pe- 
 tronius, the centurion, approached him. 
 
 " Can'st thou in very truth bear the Cross?" he asked, he 
 was a mercifully-minded man, and of himself would neither
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY &9 
 
 have incited a mob to cruelty nor soldiers to outrage " 'Tis 
 some distance yet to Calvary, wilt venture thus far?" 
 
 Simon lifted his black leonine head, his eyes had grown 
 soft and humid, and a faint smile trembled on his bearded lips. 
 
 " I will venture with this burden to the end of the world !" 
 he answered, and there was a deep thrill of tenderness in his 
 voice that made its roughness musical ; " 'To me 'tis light as a 
 reed newly plucked by the river ! Waste no words concerning 
 my strength or my body's ableness, lead on with yonder 
 crowned Man I follow 1" 
 
 Petronius stared at him in undisguised wonderment, but said 
 no more. And once again the multitude began to move, crush- 
 ing onward like the troublous waves of a dark sea, all flowing 
 in one direction, and illumined only by the golden beacon 
 splendour of that Divine Glory in their midst, the god-like 
 visage, the stedfast eyes and radiant head of the " King of the 
 Jews." And the tramping feet of the hurrying thousands 
 awakened from the stones of the road a sullen continuous echo 
 of thunder, as with shouts and shrieks and oaths and laughter 
 they pressed forward, athirst for blood, forward, and on to 
 Calvary ! 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE sun now rode high in the heavens, and the scorching 
 heat became almost unendurable. The morning's trial had 
 begun earlier and lasted longer than in ordinary cases, owing to 
 Pilate's indecision, and after the final pronouncement of the 
 people's verdict, there had still been delays, so that time had 
 worn on imperceptibly till it was past mid-day. The perfect 
 blue of the sky was of such a deep and polished luminance 
 that it suggested a dome of bright burning metal rather than 
 air, from which the vertical light-rays darted, sharp as needles, 
 plunging their hot points smartingly into the flesh. Jerusalem 
 lay staring up at the brilliant glare, its low white houses look- 
 ing almost brittle in the blistering flames of noon, here and 
 there tall palms shot up their slender brown stems and tufts of 
 dusty green against the glassy dazzle of the clear ether, and, 
 hanging over the roofs of some of the best-built dwellings, the 
 large loose leaves of the fig-trees lolled lazily, spreading wide 
 and displaying on their branches ripe fruit ready to break into
 
 fO BARABBAS 
 
 crimson pulp at a touch. Full in the hlaze of the sunshine the 
 splendid Temple of Solomon on Mount Moriah glistened like 
 a huge jewel, its columns and porticoes defined with micro- 
 scopical distinctness and clearly visible from every quarter of 
 the city, while at certain glimmering points of distance the 
 monotonous outlines of buildings and street corners were re- 
 lieved by the pink flush of cactus-flowers and the grey-green 
 of olive-boughs. Over all the scene there brooded a threaten- 
 ing stillness as of pent-up thunder, and this heavy calm of 
 the upper air presented itself in singular opposition to the 
 tumultuous roaring of the crowd below, whose savage irrita- 
 bility and impatience were sensibly increased by the parching 
 dry ness of the atmosphere. Pouring through the streets in a 
 lever of excitement that rose higher with every onward step, 
 the heat and fatigue of their march seemed to swell their fury 
 rather than diminish it, and they bellowed like wild beasts as 
 they scrambled, pushed and tore along, each man ravenously 
 eager to be among the first to arrive at the place of execution. 
 And by and by, when the soldiers began to halt at various 
 wine-shops on their way to quench the devouring thirst induced 
 by the choking dust and the stifling weather, the multitude 
 were not slow in following their example. Drink was pur- 
 chased and passed about freely in cups and flagons, and its 
 effect was soon seen. Disorderly groups of men and women 
 began to dance and sing, some pretended to preach, others 
 to prophesy, one of the roughs offered a goblet of wine to 
 Simon of Gyrene, and because he steadily refused it, dashed it 
 violently on the Cross he carried. The red liquid trickled off 
 the wood like blood, and the fellow who had cast it there gave 
 a tipsy yell of laughter. 
 
 " Lo 'tis baptized !" he cried to the applauding mob, " With 
 a better baptism than that of headless John !" 
 
 His dissolute companions roared their appreciation of the 
 jest, and the discordant hubbub grew more and more deafen- 
 ing. With that curious fickleness common to crowds, every 
 one seemed to have forgotten Barabbas, for whose release they 
 had so recently and eagerly clamoured. They were evidently 
 not aware of his presence among them, probably they did not 
 recognise him, clad as he was in sober and well-ordered apparel. 
 He was in the thick of the press however, and watched the 
 coarse half-drunken antics of those around him with a pained 
 and meditative gravity. Occasionally his eyes grew restless 
 and wandered over the heaving mass of people in troubled
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 71 
 
 search, as though looking for something lost and incalculably 
 precious. Melchior, always beside him, observed this and 
 smiled somewhat satirically. 
 
 " She is not there," he said " Thinkest thou she would 
 mingle with this vulgar swarm ? Nay, nay ! She will come, 
 even as the high- priests will come, by private by-ways, per- 
 chance the excellent Caiaphas himself will bring her." 
 
 " Caiaphas !" echoed Barabbas doubtfully" What knoweth 
 she of Caiaphas ?" 
 
 " Much !" replied Melchior. " His wife is one of her friends 
 elect. Have I not told thee, thou siraple-souled barbarian, to 
 remember that thou hast been lost to the world for eighteen 
 months? To a woman 'tis an ample leisure wherein to work 
 mischief ! Nay, be not wrathful ! 'tis my alien way of speech, 
 and I am willing to believe thy maiden a paragon of all the 
 virtues till" 
 
 " Till what?" demanded Barabbas suspiciously. 
 
 " Till it is proved otherwise !" said Melchior. " And that 
 she is beauteous is beyond all question, and beauty is all that 
 the soul of a man desireth. Nevertheless, as I told thee awhile 
 agone, 'twas her brother that betrayed the ' Nazarene.' " 
 
 " I marvel at it !" murmured Barabbas " Judas was ever 
 of an open candid nature." 
 
 " Thou did'st know him well ?" questioned Melchior with 
 one of his keen looks. 
 
 " Not well, but sufficiently" and Barabbas flushed a shamed 
 red as he spoke " He was one of my fellow- workers in the 
 house of Shadeen, the merchant I told thee of" 
 
 " The Persian dealer in pearls and gold ? Ah !" and Mel- 
 chior smiled again, " And, all to please the sister of this so 
 candid Judas, thou did'st steal jewels and wert caught in thy 
 theft ! Worthy Barabbas ! Methinks that for this Judith of 
 thine, thou did'st commit all thy sins!" 
 
 Barabbas lowered his eyes. 
 
 " She craved for gems," he said, in the tone of one prof- 
 fering suitable excuse, " And I took a necklet of pure pearls. 
 They were suited to her maidenhood, and seemed to me better 
 placed round her soft dove's throat than in the musty coffer of 
 Shadeen." 
 
 " Truly a notable reason for robbing thy employer ! And 
 thy plea for the right to commit murder was equally simple, 
 Gabrias the Pharisee slandered the fair one, and thou with a 
 knife-thrust did'st silence his evil tongue ! So ! to speak hon-
 
 72 BARABBAS 
 
 estly 'tis this Judith Iscariot is the cause of all thy sufferings 
 and thy imprisonment and yet thou lovest her !" 
 
 " If thou hast seen her" murmured Barabbas with a sigh. 
 
 " I have !" returned Melchior tranquilly " She is willing to 
 be seen ! Is she not the unrivalled beauty of the city, and 
 wherefore should she be chary of her charms ? They will not 
 last for ever ; best flourish them abroad while yet they are fresh 
 and fair. Nevertheless they have made of thee both thief and 
 murderer." 
 
 Barabbas did not attempt to contradict the truth of this piti- 
 less statement. 
 
 " And if all were known" pursued Melchior, " the sedition 
 in which thou wert concerned perchance arose from her per- 
 suasion ?" 
 
 " No, no !" averred Barabbas quickly " There were many 
 reasons. We are under tyranny ; not so much from Home as 
 from our own people, who assist to make the laws. The priests 
 and the Pharisees rule us, and many are the abuses of au- 
 thority. The poor are oppressed, the wronged are never 
 righted. Now I have read many a Greek and Roman scroll, 
 and have even striven to study somewhat of the wisdom of the 
 Egyptians, and I have the gifts of memory and ready speech, 
 so that I can, if needful, address a multitude. I fell in with 
 some of the disaffected, and gave them my service in their 
 cause, I know not how it chanced, but surely there is a 
 craving for freedom in the breast of every man ? and we, 
 we are not free." 
 
 " Patience ! ye shall have wondrous liberty ere long !" said 
 Melchior, a dark look flashing from his eyes " For the time is 
 coming when the children of Israel shall rule the land with 
 rods of iron ! The chink of coin shall be the voice of their 
 authority, and yonder thorn-crowned Spirit will have lived on 
 earth in vain for those who love gold more than life. The 
 triumph of the Jews is yet to be ! Long have they been the 
 captive and the conquered, but they shall make captives in 
 their turn, and conquer the mightiest kings. By fraud, by 
 falsehood, by cunning, by worldly-wisdom, by usury, by every 
 poisoned arrow in Satan's quiver they shall rule ! Even thy 
 name, Barabbas, shall serve them as a leading title ; 'tis thou 
 shalt be < King of the Jews' as far as this world holds, for 
 He who goeth before us is King of a wider nation a nation 
 of immortal spirits over whom gold has no power !" 
 
 Barabbas gazed at him in awe, understanding little of what
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 73 
 
 he meant, but chilled by the stern tone of his voice which 
 seemed to have within it a jarring note of menace and warn- 
 ing. 
 
 " What nation dost thou speak of" he murmured, " What 
 wor ld" 
 
 "What world?" repeated Melchior, "No single world, 
 but a thousand million worlds! There, far above us" and 
 he pointed to the dazzling sky, " is the azure veil which hides 
 their courses and muffles their music, but they are existent 
 facts, not dreamer's fancies, huge spheres, vast systems 
 sweeping onward in their appointed ways, rich with melody, 
 brimming with life, rounded with light, and yonder Man of 
 despised Nazareth, walking to His death, knows the secrets 
 of them all !" 
 
 Stricken with a sudden terror, Barabbas stopped abruptly 
 and caught the impassioned speaker by the arm. 
 
 "What sayest thou?" he gasped "Art thou mad? or 
 hast thou too, beheld the Vision? For I have thought 
 strange and fearful things since I looked upon His face and 
 saw Nay, good Melchior, why should this crime be visited 
 upon Judsea? Let me harangue the people, perchance it 
 is not yet too late for rescue !" 
 
 " Rescue !" echoed Melchior " Rescue a lamb from wolves, 
 a fawn from tigers, or more difficult still a Faith from 
 priestcraft ! Let be, thou rash son of blinded passion, let be ! 
 What is designed must be accomplished." 
 
 He was silent for a little space, and seemed absorbed in 
 thought. Barabbas walked beside him, silent too, but full of 
 an inexplicable horror and fear. The surging mob howled 
 and screamed around them, their ears were for the moment 
 deaf to outer things. Presently Melchior looked up and the 
 amber gleam in his eyes glittered strangely, as he said 
 
 " And Judas, Judas Iscariot, thou sayest, was of a simple 
 nature ?" 
 
 " He seemed so when I knew him" answered Barabbas 
 with an effort, for his thoughts were in a tangle of distress 
 and perplexity " He was notable for truth and conscientious- 
 ness, he was much trusted, and kept the books of Shadeen. 
 At times he had wild notions of reform, he resented tyranny, 
 and loathed the priests. Yea, so much did he loathe them 
 that he never would have entered the synagogue, had it not 
 been to please his father, and more specially Judith, his only 
 sister whom he loved. So much he once told me. One day
 
 74 BARABBAS 
 
 he left the city in haste and secrecy, none knew whither h 
 went, and after that" 
 
 "After that thou did'st steal Shadeen's pearls for thy 
 love and slay thy love's slanderer," finished his companion 
 serenely, " and thou wert plunged in prison for thy follies ; 
 and narrowly hast thou escaped being crucified this day." 
 
 Barabbas looked up, his black eyes firing with a sudden 
 ardour. 
 
 " I would have died willingly to save yon kingly Man !' ' 
 he said impulsively. 
 
 Melchior regarded him steadily, and his own eyes softened. 
 
 " Breaker of the law, thief and murderer as thou art con- 
 victed of being," he said, " thou hast something noble in thy 
 nature after all ! May it count to thy good hereafter ! And 
 of Judas I can tell thee somewhat. When he departed 
 secretly from Jerusalem, he journeyed to the borders of the 
 Sea of Galilee, and there did join himself in company with 
 the Prophet of Nazareth and His other disciples. He wan- 
 dered with Him throughout the land, I myself saw him 
 near Capernaum, and he was ever foremost in service to his 
 Master. Now, here in Jerusalem last night, he gave Him 
 up to the guard, and lo, the name of ' Judas' from hence- 
 forth will stand for ' traitor' to the end of time !" 
 
 Barabbas shuddered, though he could not have told why. 
 
 " Doth Judith know of this ?" he asked. 
 
 A fleeting cold smile hovered on Melchior's lips. 
 
 " Judith knoweth much, but not all. She hath not seen 
 her brother since yesterday at sundown." 
 
 " Then, hath he fled the city ?" 
 
 Melchior looked at him strangely for a moment. Then he 
 answered 
 
 Yea, he hath fled." 
 
 " And those others who followed the Nazarene," inquired 
 Barabbas eagerly " Where are they?" 
 
 " They have fled also" returned Melchior. " What else 
 should they do ? Is it not natural and human to forsake the 
 fallen?" ' 
 
 " They are cowards all 1" exclaimed Barabbas hotly. 
 
 " Nay !" replied Melchior " They are men !" 
 
 And noting his companion's pained expression he added, 
 
 " Knowest thou not that cowards and men are one and the 
 same thing, most excellent Barabbas ? Did'st ever philoso- 
 phise ? If not, why did'st thou read Greek and Roman scrolls
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 75 
 
 and puzzle thy brain with the subtle wisdom of Egypt? No 
 man was ever persistently heroic, in small matters as well as 
 great, and famous deeds are ever done on impulse. Study 
 thyself, note thine own height and breadth thou hast so 
 much bone and muscle and sinew, 'tis a goodly frame, well 
 knit together, and to all intents and purposes thou art Man. 
 Nevertheless a glance from a woman's eyes, a smile on a 
 woman's mouth, a word of persuasion or suggestion from a 
 woman's tongue, can make thee steal and commit murder. 
 Wherefore thou, Man, art also Coward. Too proud to rob, too 
 merciful to slay, this would be courage, and more than is in 
 man. For men are pigmies, they scuttle away in droves 
 before a storm or the tremor of an earthquake, they are 
 afraid for their lives. And what are their lives ? The lives 
 of motes in a sunbeam, of gnats in a mist of miasma, 
 nothing more. And they will never be anything more, till 
 they learn how to make them valuable. And that lesson will 
 never be mastered save by the few." 
 
 Barabbas sighed. 
 
 " Verily thou dost love to repeat the tale of my sins" he 
 said " Maybe thou dost think I cannot hear it too often. 
 And now thou callest me coward ! yet I may not be angered 
 with thee, seeing thou art a stranger, and I, despite the law's 
 release, am still no more than a criminal, wherefore, because 
 thou seemest wise and of singular powers, I forbear with thy 
 reproaches. But 'tis not too late to learn the lesson thou dost 
 speak of, and methinks even I may make my recovered life of 
 value?" 
 
 " Truly thou mayest" responded Melchior " For if thou 
 so dost choose, not all the powers of heaven and earth can 
 hinder thee. But 'tis a business none can guide thee in. Life 
 is a talisman, dropped freely into thy bosom, but the fitting use 
 of the magic gift must be discovered by thyself alone." 
 
 At that moment, the moving crowd came to a sudden abrupt 
 halt. Loud cries and exclamations were heard. 
 
 " He will die ere he is crucified !" 
 
 " Lo ! he faints by the way !" 
 
 " If he can walk no more, bind him with ropes and drag him 
 to Calvary !" 
 
 " Bid Simon carry him as well as the Cross 1" 
 
 " Support him, ye lazy ruffians !" cried a woman in the 
 crowd, " Will ye have Caesar told that the Jews are nothing 
 but barbarians ?"
 
 76 BARABBAS 
 
 The clamour grew louder, and the excited mob rolled back 
 upon itself with a force that was dangerous to life and limb. 
 People fell and were trampled or bruised, children screamed, 
 and for a few moments the confusion was terrific. 
 
 " Now would be the time to attempt a rescue !" muttered 
 Barabbas, with some excitement, clenching his fists as though 
 in eagerness to begin the fray. 
 
 Melchior laid a restraining hand on his arm. 
 
 " As well try to pluck the sun out of heaven !" he said pas- 
 sionately " Control thyself, rash fool ! Thou can'st not rescue 
 One for whom death is the divine fulness of life ! Press for- 
 ward with me quickly, and we shall discover the cause of this 
 new delay, but say no word, and raise not a hand in opposi- 
 tion to Destiny. Wait till the end !" 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WITH these words, and still holding Barabbas firmly by the 
 arm, he plunged into the thickest part of the crowd which ap- 
 peared to yield and give mysterious way to his passage, and 
 presently reached a place of standing-ioom where it was possi- 
 ble to see what had occasioned the halt and uproar. All the 
 noise and fury surged round the grand figure of the " Naza- 
 rene" who stood erect as ever, but nevertheless seemed even in 
 that upright position to have suddenly lost consciousness. His 
 face had an unearthly pallor and His eyes were closed, and 
 it appeared to the soldiers and people as if Death had laid a 
 merciful hand upon Him ere there was time to torture His life. 
 In response to sundry calls and shouts for water or some other 
 cool beverage to rouse the apparently swooning Captive, a man 
 came out of the dark interior of his dwelling with a goblet con- 
 taining wine mingled with myrrh and handed it to the centu- 
 rion in charge. Petronius, with a strange sinking at the heart 
 and something of remorse and pity, advanced and lifted it to 
 the lips of the Divine Sufferer, who as the cold rim of the cup 
 touched Him, opened His starry eyes and smiled. The infi- 
 nite beauty of that smile and its pathetic tenderness, the vast 
 pardon and sublime patience it expressed, seemed all at once 
 to flash a sudden' mysterious light of comprehension into the 
 hearts of the cruel multitude, for, as if struck by a spell, their
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 77 
 
 cries and murmurings ceased, and every head was turned towards 
 the great Radiance which shone upon them with such intense 
 and undefinable glory. Petronius staggered back chilled with 
 a vague horror, he returned the cup of wine and myrrh to 
 the man who had offered it, the " Nazarene" had not tasted 
 it, He had merely expressed His silent acknowledgment by 
 that luminous and exquisite smile. And strangely awful did 
 it suddenly seem to the bluff centurion that such an One as 
 He should express gratitude to any man, even by a glance, 
 though why it appeared unnatural, he, Petronius, could not 
 tell. Meanwhile some of the women pressing closer and gazing 
 full into the calm fair face of the Condemned, were touched 
 into awe and admiration and began to utter exclamations of 
 regret and compassion, others, more emotional, and encour- 
 aged by at last hearing an unmistakable murmur of sympathy 
 ripple wave-like through the throng, broke into loud weeping, 
 and beat their breasts with frenzied gesticulations of mourning 
 and despair. 
 
 " They will change their minds, these Jews," said one of the 
 soldiers sullenly, aside to Petronius " With all these wailings 
 and halts by the way, our work will never be done. Best press 
 on quickly." 
 
 " Hold thy peace !'' retorted Petronius angrily " Seest thou 
 not the Man faints with fatigue and maybe with the pain of 
 the scourging ? Let him pause a while." 
 
 But He of whom they spoke had already recovered Himself. 
 His lips parted a little, they trembled and were dewy, as 
 though some heavenly restorative had just touched them. The 
 faint colour flowed back to His face, and He looked dreamily 
 about Him, like a strayed Angel who scarcely recognises the 
 sphere into which it has wandered. The weeping women 
 gathered near Him timidly, some carrying infants in their 
 arms, and, undeterred by the frowns of the soldiers, ventured 
 to touch His garments. One young matron, a woman of Rome, 
 lifted a small fair-haired nursling close up to Him that He 
 might look at it, the little one stretched out its dimpled arms 
 and tried to clutch first the crown of thorns, and then the 
 glittering golden hair. The sweet encouragement and strong 
 tenderness of expression with which the Divine Immortal met 
 the child's laughing eyes and innocently attempted caresses, 
 melted the mother's heart, and she gave way to uncontrollable 
 sobbing, clasping her loved and lovely treasure close, and letting 
 her tears rain on its nestling head. The other women round
 
 78 BARABBAS 
 
 her, sympathetically infected by her example, renewed their 
 lamentations with such hysterical passion that presently the 
 gradual mutterings of impatience and discontent that had for 
 some minutes proceeded from the male portion of the crowd, 
 swelled into loud remonstrance and indignation. 
 
 " What fools are women !" " Press forward !" " We shall 
 have these whimpering souls preventing the law's fulfilment 1" 
 "Why delay thus?" 
 
 But these angry outcries were of little avail, and the women 
 still wept and clustered about the " Nazarene," till He Himself 
 turned His eyes upon them with a look of love and invincible 
 command which like a charm suddenly hushed their clamour. 
 At the same moment, a low voice, rendered faint with weari- 
 ness, dropped on their ears melodiously like a sweet and in- 
 finitely sad song. 
 
 " Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for 
 yourselves and for your children /" Here a deep sigh inter- 
 rupted speech ; then the mellow accents gathered strength and 
 solemnity. " For behold the days are coining in the which they 
 shall say, Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never 
 bare, and the breasts which never gave suck. Then shall they 
 begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us ! and to the hills, 
 Cover us!" 
 
 The rich voice faltered for a moment, and the beautiful 
 eyes of the captive " King" filled with a deep meditative pity 
 as He added ; " For if they do these things in a green tree, 
 what shall be done in the dry ?" 
 
 The listening women looked up at Him in tearful astonish- 
 ment, quieted, yet understanding nothing of His words. The 
 last sentence seemed to them particularly vague and meaning- 
 less, they could not comprehend that He who thus spoke to 
 them was thinking of the whole world merely as " a green 
 tree" or a planet in its prime, and that He foresaw little but 
 sorrow from the wilful disbelief and disobedience of its inhabi- 
 tants when it should become old and like the sapless tree, 
 "dry" Dry of faith, dry of love, dry of all sweet, pure, 
 holy and unselfish emotion, a mere withered husk of a world 
 ready to be scattered among the star-dust of the Universe, 
 having failed to obey its Maker's will, or to accomplish its 
 nobler destiny. Such premonitory signs are given to thinkers 
 and philosophers alone, the majority of men have no time 
 and less inclination to note or accept them'. There is time to 
 eat, time to steal, time to lie, time to murder, time to become
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 79 
 
 a degradation to the very name of Man ; but there is no time 
 to pause and consider that after all our petty labours and selfish 
 ambitions, this star on which we live belongs, not to us, but to 
 God, and that if He but willed it so, it could be blotted out of 
 space in a second and never be missed, save perhaps for the 
 one singular distinction that the Divine Christ dwelling upon 
 it from birth to death, has made it sacred. 
 
 None among the Jewish populace that morning were able to 
 imagine the vast wonder and mystery investing the sublime 
 Figure which moved amongst them with such tranquil dignity 
 and resignation, none could foresee the tremendous results 
 which were destined to spring from the mere fact of His exist- 
 ence upon earth. All that they saw was a Man of extraordi- 
 nary physical beauty, who for bold and open teaching of new 
 doctrines pronounced by the priests to be blasphemous, was 
 being led to His death. Thrust violently back by the guards, 
 the frightened group of women who had wept for His suffer- 
 ings, got scattered among the crowd, and, drifting hither and 
 thither like blown leaves in a storm, forgot their tears in their 
 anxiety to protect their children from the reckless pushing and 
 buffeting of the onward swarming rabble. The disorder was 
 increased by the terrified starting and plunging of horses and 
 mules that got entangled in the crowd during the progress of 
 the procession through the narrow and tortuous streets, but 
 at last one sharp turn in the road brought them in full view of 
 Calvary. The people set up a wild unanimous shout, and 
 Simon of Gyrene carrying the Cross looked up startled and 
 pained by the discordant roar. For he had been lost in a 
 dream. Unconscious of the weight he bore, he had seemed 
 to himself to walk on air. He had spoken no word, though 
 many around him had mocked him and striven to provoke him 
 by insolent jests and jeers, he was afraid to utter a sound 
 lest he should disturb and dispel the strange and delicious 
 emotion he experienced, emotion which he could not explain, 
 but which kept him in a state of bewildered wonderment and 
 ecstasy. There was music everywhere about him, high above 
 the mutterings and murmurings of the populace, he heard 
 mysterious throbs of melody as of harps struck by the air, 
 the hard stones of the road were soft as velvet to his sandalled 
 feet, the Cross he carried seemed scented with the myrtle and 
 the rose, and there was no more weight in it than in a gathered 
 palm-leaf plucked as a symbol of victory. He remembered 
 now in his youth he had once carried the baby son of a king
 
 80 BARABBA8 
 
 on his shoulders down one of the Cyrenian hills to the edge 
 of the sea, and the child, pleased with the swiftness and ease 
 of ita journey, had waved aloft a branch of vine in sign of 
 triumph and joy. The burden of the Cross was no heavier 
 than that of the laughing child and tossing vine ! But now, 
 now the blissful journey must end, the rude cries of the 
 savage multitude aroused him from his reverie, the harp-like 
 melodies around him rippled away into minor echoes of deep 
 sadness, and as his eyes beheld the hill of Calvary, he, for 
 the first time since he began his march, felt weary unto death. 
 He had never in all his years of life known such happiness as 
 while carrying the Cross of Him who was soon to be nailed 
 upon it ; but now the time had come when he must lay it 
 down, and take up the far more weighty burdens of the world 
 and its low material claims. Why not die here, he thought 
 vaguely, with the Man whose radiant head gleamed before him 
 like the sun in heaven ? Surely it would be well, since here, 
 at Calvary, life seemed to have a sweet and fitting end ! He 
 was only a barbarian, uninstructed and ignorant of heavenly 
 things, he could not analyse what he felt or reason out his 
 unfamiliar sensations, but some singular change had been 
 wrought in him, since he lifted up the Cross, thus much he 
 knew, thus much he realised, the rest was mere wonder and 
 worship. 
 
 As the multitude poured itself towards the place of execu- 
 tion a party of horsemen dashed through a side-street and 
 careered up the hill at full gallop, the hoofs of their spirited 
 steeds tearing up and scattering morsels of the sun-baked turf 
 like dust in the air as they passed. They were Roman nobles, 
 visitors to Jerusalem, who hearing of what was about to take 
 place, had come out to see this singular Jewish festival of 
 blood. After them followed another group of persons on foot, 
 and glittering in raiment of various costly hues, these were 
 Caiaphas, Annas, and many of the members of the Sanhedrim, 
 accompanied by a select number of the retinue of their vari- 
 ous households. Meanwhile Barabbas was being guarded and 
 guided forward by the astute Melchior who with wonderful 
 dexterity and composure, piloted him through the thickest of 
 the crush and brought him to a clear space at the foot of the 
 hill. Just as they reached the spot, several richly -attired 
 women, some of them veiled, came out of the shady avenues 
 of a private garden close by and began the ascent at a slow 
 and sauntering pace. They were laughing and talking gaily
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 81 
 
 mong themselves ; one of them, the tallest, walked with a dis- 
 tinctive air of haughtiness and a swaying suppleness of move- 
 ment, she had a brilliant flame-coloured mantle thrown over 
 her head and shoulders. 
 
 " Lo, there !" whispered Melchior, grasping Barabbas firmly 
 by the arm to keep him prisoner " Yonder she goes ! Seest 
 thou not yon poppy -hued gala garb ? 'Tis the silken sheath 
 of the flower whose perfume drives thee mad ! the dove-like 
 desirer of stolen pearls ! the purest and fairest virgin in 
 Judaea, Judith Iscariot !" 
 
 With a fierce cry and fiercer oath, Barabbas strove to wrench 
 himself from his companion's hold. 
 
 " Eelease me !" he gasped " Detain me not thus, or by my 
 soul, I will slay thee !" 
 
 His efforts were in vain ; Melchior's hand, though light, was 
 firm as iron and never yielded, and Melchior's eyes, flashing 
 fire, yet cold as ice in expression, rested on the heated angry 
 face of the man beside him, unswervingly and with a chill 
 disdain. 
 
 " Thou infatuated fool !" he said slowly " Thou misguided 
 barbarian ! Thou wilt slay me ? ' By thy soul' thou wilt ? 
 Swear not by thy soul, good ruffian, for thou hast one, strange 
 as it doth seem ! 'Tis the only positive thing about thee, 
 wherefore take not its name in vain, else it may visit vengeance 
 on thee! Judgest thou me as easy to kill as a Pharisee? 
 Thou art in serious error ! The steel of thy knife would melt 
 in my flesh, thy hands would fall withered and benumbed 
 did'st thou presume to lay them violently upon me. Be warned 
 in time, and pervert not my friendship, for believe me thou 
 wilt need it presently." 
 
 Barabbas looked at him in wild appeal, a frozen weight 
 seemed to have fallen on his heart, and a sense of being mas- 
 tered and compelled vexed his impatient spirit. But he was 
 powerless, he had, on a mere sudden impulse, put himself, he 
 knew not why, under the control of this stranger, he had 
 only himself to blame if now his own will seemed paralysed 
 and impotent. He ceased struggling, and cast a longing glance 
 after the flame-coloured mantle that now appeared to be float- 
 ing lightly up the hill of Calvary like a stray cactus-petal on 
 the air. 
 
 " Thou knowest not," he muttered " thou can'st not know 
 how I have hungered for her face" 
 
 "And thou shalt feed on it ere long" rejoined Melchior
 
 82 BARABBAS 
 
 sarcastically, " And may it quell thy vulgar appetite ! But 
 assume at least the appearance of a man, betray not thyself 
 before her maidens, they will but scoff at thee. Moreover, 
 bethink thee thou art here as witness of a death, a death far 
 greater than all love !" 
 
 Barabbas sighed, and his head drooped dejectedly on his 
 breast. His strong harsh features were convulsed with passion, 
 but the strange force exercised over him by his companion 
 was too subtle for resistance. Melchior watched him keenly 
 for a moment ere he spoke again, then he said more gently, 
 but with earnestness and solemnity 
 
 " Lo, they ascend Calvary ! Seest thou not the Condemned 
 and His guards are already half way up the hill ? Come, let 
 us follow ; thou shall behold the world agonised and the sun 
 fade in heaven ! thou shalt hear the conscious thunder roar 
 out wrath at this symbolic slaughter of the Divine in Man ! 
 No worse murder was ever wrought, none more truly repre- 
 sentative of humanity ! and from henceforth the earth rolls 
 on its appointed way in a mist of blood, saved, may-be, but 
 stained ! stained and marked with the Cross, for ever !" 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BARABBAS trembled as he heard. Full of apprehensive 
 trouble and dreary foreboding, he followed his inscrutable new 
 acquaintance. Some strange inward instinct told him that 
 there was a terrible truth in Melchior's words, though why 
 a stranger and alien to Judaea should know more concerning 
 the mystic " Nazarene" than the Jews themselves was a prob- 
 lem he could not fathom. Nevertheless he began the brief 
 ascent of Calvary with a sinking heart, and a sensation that 
 was very like despair. He felt that something tremendous and 
 almost incomprehensible was about to be consummated, and 
 that on the children of Israel for evermore would rest the 
 curse invoked by themselves. Could God Himself alter tho 
 deliberately self-chosen fate of a man or a nation ? No ! Even 
 the depraved and ill-taught Barabbas was mentally conscious 
 of the awful yet divine immutability of Free-will. 
 
 The dry turf crackled beneath the tread as though it wera
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 83 
 
 on fire, for the heat was more than ever overpoweringly intense. 
 Time had worn on till it was nearly three o'clock in the after- 
 noon, and the broad unshadowed glare of the sun streamed 
 pitilessly down upon the hill of execution which now presented 
 the appearance of a huge hive covered thickly with thousands 
 of swarming, buzzing bees. The crowd had broken up on all 
 sides, each section of it striving to attain the best point of view 
 from whence to watch the progress of the dire tragedy about to 
 be enacted. The fatal eminence sloped upward very gently, 
 and on cooler days the climb would have scarcely been percep- 
 tible, but at this fierce hour, when all the world seemed staring 
 and aflame with wonder, the way appeared difficult and long. 
 Melchior and Barabbas however, walking side by side, managed 
 to keep up a moderately swift and even pace, despite the vin- 
 dictive blaze and dazzle of the sky, and never paused to take 
 breath till, as they neared the summit, they came upon a little 
 group of women surrounding the unconscious form of one of 
 their companions. Barabbas, with a wild idea that his Judith 
 might be amongst them, sprang eagerly forward, and this time 
 Melchior let him go. But he was quickly disappointed, no 
 silken-robed beauty was there, they were all poor, footsore, 
 sad-faced, ill-clad creatures, some of whom were silently weep- 
 ing, while only one of them seemed, by her singular dignity 
 of bearing, to be of a higher rank apart, but she was closely 
 veiled so that her features were not visible. Their whole at- 
 tention was centred on the woman who had swooned, and she 
 appeared, from her exterior condition, to be the poorest of them 
 all. Clothed only in a rough garment of coarse grey linen 
 bound under her bosom with a hempen girdle, she lay on the 
 ground where she had suddenly fallen, like one newly dead, and 
 the piteous still loveliness of her was such that Barabbas, 
 though his wild soul mirrored another and far more brilliant 
 face, could not help but be moved to compassion, as he bent 
 forward and saw her thus prone and senseless. The chief glory 
 that distinguished her was her hair, it had come unbound, 
 and rippled about her in lavish waves of warm yet pale gold, 
 her features were softly rounded and delicate like those of a 
 child, and the thick lashes that fringed the closed eyes, being 
 more darkly tinted than the hair, cast a shadow beneath, sug- 
 gestive of pain and the shedding of many tears. 
 
 " What aileth her ?" asked Barabbas gently. 
 
 One or two of the women eyed him doubtfully but offered 
 uo reply. Melchior had approached to within a certain dis-
 
 54 BARABBAS 
 
 tance of the group and there he waited. Barabbas beckoned 
 him, but seeing he did not stir, went hastily up to him. 
 
 " Shall we not be of some service here ?" he demanded 
 " 'Tis a wondrous fair virgin whom sorrow or pain hath surely 
 overcome." 
 
 " Do as it eeemeth unto thee well," responded Melchior 
 quietly, looking him full in the face as he spoke ; " neverthe- 
 less thou must be advised in this matter. Yon ' wondrous 
 fair virgin,' as thou callest her, is but a woman of ill-fame, a 
 golden-haired wanton of the city ways called Mary Magdalene." 
 
 Barabbas started as if he had been stung. A dark frown 
 gathered on his brows. 
 
 "Mary Magdalene!" he muttered "Of a truth she is a 
 sinner ! I have heard sundry evil things of her, yet of my- 
 self I would not be merciless, I could not stone a woman, 
 . . . but if to-day I see and speak with Judith" 
 
 " Enough 1" interrupted Melchior disdainfully " I under- 
 stand thee ! Thou would'st not sully thyself, good thief, with 
 even so much as a look from a wanton, Judith being pure as 
 heaven and Mary black as hell ! Leave her where she lies, 
 thou moralising murderer, thou true type of the men who 
 make such women ! leave her to the ministrations of hef own 
 sex. She whom thou, assassin, dost scorn, hath been brought 
 to penitence and pardoned by Him who dieth presently, yet 
 what of that ? 'Tis naught, 'tis naught ! for He must be 
 crucified, but thou canst lire ! wondrous world that thus 
 pronounceth equity ! Come, let us onward !" 
 
 Barabbas listened, sullenly ashamed. 
 
 " If she be penitent 'tis well" he muttered " but why 
 then goest thou not thyself to her ?" 
 
 A sudden gravity clouded the ironical glitter in Melchior's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Why ?" he echoed pensively, then after a pause, " Were 
 I to tell thee truly why, thou would'st learn more than is yet 
 fitting to thy nature. Let it suffice to thee to know that 
 among those women there is One, whom I may not venture to 
 approach save in worship, for where she treads is holy ground. 
 For her sake from henceforth, Woman is made Queen ! nay, 
 look not thus strangely ! thou shalt hear more of this anon." 
 
 He resumed his walk sedately, and Barabbas more and moro 
 troubled and perplexed, gave a disquieted glance backward 
 over his shoulder at the group now left behind. He saw that 
 the fainting Magdalene had revived sufficiently to be lifted
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 85 
 
 partially to her feet, and he caught the flash of the daziling 
 sunlight on the falling masses of her luxuriant hair. Then 
 he turned his eyes away, and bent his looks downward to the 
 ground, and a silence fell between him and Melchior. AH at 
 once a shriek of agony tore the air into sharp echoes, followed 
 by another and yet another. Barabbas stopped, his blood 
 freezing at the hideous outcry. Unable to speak, he gazed at 
 his companion in affrighted inquiry. 
 
 " 'Tis the first taste of pain such as thou mightest this day 
 and at this moment have suffered," said Melchior, answering 
 his look " They are nailing down two thieves. Hearest thou 
 not the clang of the hammers ? A few paces more and we 
 shall see the work." 
 
 They quickened their steps, and in a couple of minutes 
 reached the summit of the hill. There they found themselves 
 in full view of the terrible scene of execution, a pageant of 
 such tremendous import, such sublime horror, that the imagi- 
 nation of man can scarcely grasp it, scarcely realise the 
 consummate bitterness of the awful and immortal tragedy. 
 The multitude had formed into a complete ring, circling un- 
 brokenly round the crest of Calvary, while the soldiery had 
 divided into two lines, one keeping to the right, the other to 
 the left. At a signal from the centurion, Simon of Cyrene 
 laid down with tender and lingering reluctance the great Cross 
 he had so lightly carried, and as he did so, the Man of Naza- 
 reth, moving tranquilly to the spot indicated to Him by His 
 guards, took up His position beside the intended instrument 
 of His death, and there waited patiently for the accomplish- 
 ment of His fate. The executioners were already busily occu- 
 pied with part of their dreadful task, for, at the crafty sug- 
 gestion of Caiaphas the two thieves who had been brought 
 out from the prison that morning were nailed on their re- 
 spective crosses first. This was to satisfy the refined cruelty 
 of the Jewish priests, who by this means sought to overpower 
 the "Nazarene" with terror by forcing Him to witness the 
 agonies of those who were destined to suffer in His sacred 
 company. But herein the bloodthirsty chiefs of the Sanhe- 
 drim were doomed to disappointment. No shadow of fear 
 blanched the serene visage of the Divine, not a tremor of 
 horror or anxiety quivered through that stately frame of heroic 
 stature and perfect mould. He stood erect, as a king of a 
 thousand worlds might stand, conscious of power and glory, - 
 His tall white-robed figure was fully outlined against the burn-
 
 86 BARABBAS 
 
 ing sky, and seemed to have gathered from the sun-ray? a 
 dazzling luminance of its own, every prickly point in His 
 crown of thorns glistened as with drops of dew, His fair 
 calm face shone with a beauty not of mortals, and so lightly 
 did His sandalled feet seem poised on the hot and arid soil 
 beneath Him, that He scarcely appeared to touch the earth 
 more than a sunlit cloud may do ere rising again into its na- 
 tive ether. The land, the sky, the air, the sun, all seemed to 
 be a part of Himself and to share mysteriously in the knowl- 
 edge of His presence ; had He spoken one word, one word 
 of thunderous command, it would have shaken the Universe. 
 But with that inward force known only to God and the angels, 
 He held His peace, and His radiant eyes, in their poetic 
 wistfulness and wonder, seemed saying silently " I go to lift 
 the curtain from this Death, which all My foolish creatures 
 fear ! I pass through torturing pain to give weak human 
 nature courage ! And I descend into the grave as Man, to 
 prove that Man, though seeming dead, shall rise to life 
 again !" 
 
 Meanwhile the shrieks and cries that had startled Barabbas 
 were growing louder and wilder. They all proceeded from 
 one of the doomed thieves, the other was silent. With a 
 mingling of morbid curiosity and nervous dread, Barabbas 
 went shrinkingly towards the spot where the executioners were 
 at work, and gazing at the distorted features of the struggling 
 criminal gave an irrepressible cry of amazement. 
 
 " Hanan !" 
 
 Hanan indeed it was, his former fellow-prisoner, with whom 
 he had fought through iron bars the previous night, and whom 
 he had left yelling after him that very morning. Hearing 
 Barabbas speak his name, the wretched man turned his pro- 
 truding eyes round with a hideous expression of rage and 
 envy. 
 
 " Thou, Barabbas ! Thou, free ? Dog ! Accursed 
 devil ! What evil conspiracy hast thou worked in to get thy- 
 self released and me condemned ? Through thee I sinned ! 
 through thee have I come to this ! Coward ! I spit on thee ! 
 Justice ! I will have j ustice ! Thou lying hypocrite ! Did' st 
 thou not swear to stand by thy friends ? Let be, ye brutes !" 
 and with a yell he tore his arm away from the men who had 
 seized it to nail it against the left-hand beam of the cross on 
 which he was stretched " Thou, thou Barabbas, art thief as 
 well as I thou art worse than I, for thou art murderer I
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 87 
 
 Come thou hither and be tormented in my stead! This 
 morning thou didst leave me in my cell starved and athirst, 
 and lo, they came and brought me forth to die, while thou 
 art here pranked out in soft attire, free free 1 Thou ruffian ! 
 And this is Rome's justice for he Jews! Ah!" and he 
 screamed furiously, as two or three soldiers beckoned forward 
 by the executioners came and by force tied his arms with 
 strong rope to the cross-beams of the instrument of death, 
 while the great sharp nails were driven remorselessly through 
 the centre of his palms, " Take ye Barabbas and crucify 
 him !" he yelled, " He murdered Gabrias, he stole the jewels 
 of Shadeen, he it is who stirreth up sedition in the city, 
 bring out another cross for Barabbas ! let Barabbas die" - 
 
 Blood sprang to his mouth, choking his utterance, his face 
 grew dusky purple with agony and suffocation. The soldiers 
 laughed. 
 
 "Thou cowardly dog!" said one of them "Die like a 
 man, if there be any manhood in a Jew. A Roman would 
 scorn to make such outcry. As for Barabbas, he is set free 
 by law and pardoned." 
 
 Hanan heard, and his eyes rolled horribly with a delirious 
 glare. 
 
 " Pardoned pardoned !" he muttered thickly " May all 
 the curses of deepest hell be on thee and thy wanton" - 
 
 But his sentence was left unfinished, for at that moment his 
 cross was raised and set upright in the socket prepared for it 
 in the ground, and the blistering sun blazed down upon his 
 bare head and naked body like an opened furnace-fire. He 
 twisted and writhed in vain, in his indescribable torture he 
 would have torn his hands from the nails which pierced them, 
 had they not been too tightly bound for such an effort. Most 
 awful it was to look upon him hanging thus, with the anguished 
 blood blackening in his veins and swelling his straining muscles, 
 and Barabbas turned away his eyes, sick and shuddering. 
 Do they all suffer like that?" he asked of Melchior falter- 
 
 All who are made of clay and clay only, suffer thus" 
 responded Melchior, eyeing the tormented criminal with an air 
 of scientific coldness, " He has had his chance in this world 
 and lost it. None but himself can be blamed for his present 
 condition." 
 
 "Wilt thou apply such moralising to the Nazarene?" de- 
 manded Barabbas half indignantly.
 
 88 BARABBAS 
 
 Melchior lifted his eyes for an instant to the sky as though 
 he saw some wonder there. 
 
 "Ay! Even to the Nazarene !" he said softly "He also 
 hath had His Way, and chosen His condition, and unto Him 
 be the glory hereafter ! Time is His slave, and Destiny His 
 footstool, and His Cross the safety of Humanity !" 
 
 " Nay, if such be thy thought of Him" murmured Ba- 
 rabbas, shaken to his very soul by a trembling awe he could 
 not explain, " were it not well to speak with Him ere He dies ? 
 to crave a blessing" 
 
 " His blessing is not for me, but all" interrupted Melchior 
 with solemnity " And I have spoken with Him, long ago, 
 when His life on earth was young. But now, 'tis not a time 
 for words, 'tis a time for vigilance and prayer ; watch thou 
 therefore with me, and hold thy peace, this is but the be- 
 ginning of wonders." 
 
 Just then the executioners finished nailing the second thief 
 to his cross. This man made no resistance and scarce an out- 
 cry. Once only, as his feet were pierced by the huge nail that 
 was roughly hammered through them, he gave vent to an 
 irresistible faint shriek of pain, but afterwards, with an 
 almost superhuman effort he controlled himself, and only 
 moaned a little now and then. His eyes turned constantly 
 towards the " Nazarene" and he seemed to derive ease and 
 satisfaction from merely looking in that direction. There was 
 much renewed excitement and stir among the thronging people 
 as they saw the second cross about to be set up, for they judged 
 that but little time would now elapse before the crowning act 
 of the appalling drama, the crucifixion of Him whom they 
 accused of blasphemy because " Pie made Himself the Son of 
 God." And in the restless surging to and fro of the mob, 
 Barabbas suddenly spied standing somewhat apart, a knot of 
 women whose costly raiment, adorned with jewels, bespoke 
 them of higher wealth and rank than ordinary, and among 
 them one dazzlingly fair face shone forth like a star amid 
 flame, for the hair which clustered above it was of a red-gold 
 lustre, and the mantle flung about it had the glowing tint of 
 fire. One devouring eager look, and Barabbas, forgetting all 
 fear, warning, or prophecy, fled like a madman towards that 
 flashing danger-signal of a beauty that seemed to burn the 
 very air encompassing it, and with wild eyes, out-stretched 
 hands and breathless utterance he cried, 
 
 "JUDITH!"
 
 4 DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 89 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SHE whom he thus called upon turned towards him as he 
 came with a haughty air of offence and inquiry, and the 
 marvellous loveliness of her as she fully confronted him checked 
 his impetuous haste and held him, as it had often done before, 
 tongue-tied, bewildered and unmanned. Nothing more beauti- 
 ful in the shape of woman could be imagined than she, her 
 fairness was of that rare and subtle type which in all ages has 
 overwhelmed reason, blinded judgment and played havoc with 
 the passions of men. Well did she know her own surpassing 
 charm, and thoroughly did she estimate the value of her 
 fatal power to lure and rouse and torture all whom she made 
 the victims of her almost resistless attraction. She was Judith 
 Iscariot, only daughter of one of the strictest and most re- 
 spected members of the Pharisaical sect in Jerusalem, and 
 by birth and breeding she should have been the most sancti- 
 monious and reserved of maidens, but in her case, nature had 
 outstepped education. Nature, in a picturesque mood, had 
 done wondrous things for her, things that in the ordinary 
 opinion of humankind, generally outweigh virtue and the 
 cleanness of the soul in the sight of Heaven. To Nature 
 therefore the blame was due for having cast the red glow of a 
 stormy sunset into the bronze- gold of her hair, for having 
 melted the blackness of night and the fire of stars together 
 and set this mingled darkness and dazzle floating liquidly in 
 her eyes, for having bruised the crimson heart of the pome- 
 granate-buds and made her lips the colour of the perfect 
 flower, and for having taken the delicate cream and pink of 
 early almond blossoms and fixed this soft flushing of the 
 Spring's life-blood in the coloring of her radiant face. Small 
 cause for wonder was there in the fact that her beauty con- 
 quered all who came within its radius ; even her rigid father 
 himself grew lax, weak and without authority as far as she 
 was concerned, and blinded by the excess of his parental pride 
 in her perfections, had gradually become the merest tool in her 
 haiids. How then could Barabbas, the criminal Barabbas, 
 feel himself other than the most abject of slaves in such a 
 dazzling presence! A beaten hound, a chidden child were 
 8*
 
 90 BARABBAS 
 
 firmer of resolution than he when the chill yet lustrous glance 
 he loved fell on him like a star-beam flashing from a frosty 
 sky and set his strong nerves trembling. 
 
 " Judith !" he exclaimed again, and then stopped, discour- 
 aged ; for her large eyes, cold as the inner silence of the sea, 
 surveyed him freezingly as though he were some insolently 
 obtrusive stranger. 
 
 " Judith !" he faltered appealingly " Surely thou dost 
 know me, me, Barabbas !" 
 
 A sudden light of comprehension swept away the proud 
 annoyance of her look, her red lips parted a little, showing 
 the even small white teeth within, then a glimmer of amuse- 
 ment illumined her features, wakening dimples at the curves 
 of her mouth and lifting the delicately pencilled corners of 
 her eyebrows, then she broke into a soft peal of careless, 
 vibrating laughter. 
 
 "Thou, Barabbas?" she said, and laughed once more, 
 " Thou ? Nay, 'tis not possible ! Barabbas was of late in 
 prison, and of a truth he could not steal from thence such 
 purple raiment and solemnly sedate expression as thou wear- 
 est! Thou can'st not be Barabbas, for scarce two hours 
 agone I saw him standing before Pilate, unclad, and foul as 
 wolves and leopards are ! yet verily he seemed a nobler man 
 than thou !" 
 
 Again she gave vent to her silvery mocking mirth, and her 
 eyes flung him a glittering challenge of disdain and scorn. 
 He, however, had recovered partial control of his emotions, 
 and met her taunting gaze stedfastly and with something of 
 sadness, his dark face had grown very pale, and all the 
 warmth and rapture had died out of his voice when he spoke 
 again. 
 
 " I am Barabbas" he repeated quietly " And thou, 
 Judith, dost know it. Have I not suffered for thy sake ? 
 and wilt thou still mock at me?" 
 
 She glanced him up and down with an air of mingled de- 
 rision and pity. 
 
 " I do not mock at thee, fool ! thou dreamest ! How 
 darest thou say thou hast suffered for my sake ! I will have 
 thee scourged for thy presumption ! What has the daughter 
 of Iscariot to do with thee, thou malefactor? Thou dost 
 forget thy crimes too easily !" 
 
 "Judith!" he muttered, his pale features growing paler, 
 and his hands clenching themselves in an involuntary move-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 91 
 
 ment of desperate despair, "Bethink thee of thy words! 
 Remember the old days, . . . have pity" 
 
 She cut short his hesitating speech by an offended gesture 
 and turning to the women who stood near, exclaimed deri- 
 sively, 
 
 " Lo, maidens, 'tis Barabbas ! Remember ye him who 
 was ever wont to pass by the well in our palm-tree nook in 
 his goings and comings to and from the house of Shadeen ? 
 how he would linger with us till sunset, wasting his time in 
 idle words and rumours of the town, when of a truth he should 
 have been better employed in useful errandry. Tis the same 
 knave who knotted for me the silken hammock on the fig-tree 
 boughs in my father's garden, and for Aglaie, yonder sim- 
 pering Greek girl of mine, he once pulled down a flower that 
 blossomed too high for her to reach. 'Twas all the service 
 he ever did for us, methinks ! yet he hath become of a most 
 excellent pride in prison ! the unexpected freedom given 
 him by the people's vote hath puffed him out with singular 
 vanities ! Would ye have known him, maidens, clad thus in 
 purple, and of so decorous a demeanour? As I live, he 
 would have adorned a cross most fittingly! 'twere pity he 
 were not nailed beside the Nazarene !" 
 
 The women to whom she spoke laughed carelessly to please 
 her, but one or two of them seemed sorry for Barabbas, and 
 glanced at him kindly and with a certain pity. He meanwhile 
 showed no anger or impatience at the scoffing words of his 
 beautiful tormentor, but simply looked her straight in the eyes, 
 questioningly and sorrowfully. A deeper flush coloured her 
 fair cheeks, she was evidently troubled by the stedfastness 
 of his gaze, and, noting this momentary embarrassment of 
 hers, he seized his opportunity and made a resolute step to- 
 wards her, catching her hand in his own. 
 
 " Is this thy welcome, Judith ?" he said in a passionate 
 whisper " Hast thou no thought of what my long long misery 
 has been apart from thee ? Deny it as thou wilt, I sinned for 
 thy sake and suffered for thy sake ! and 'twas this thought 
 and this alone that made my suffering less hard to bear. Mock 
 me, reject me, thou can'st not hinder me from loving thee! 
 Slay me, if it give thee pleasure, with the jewelled dagger 
 hanging at thy girdle, I shall die happy at thy feet, loving 
 thee to the last, thou cruel virgin of my soul !" 
 
 His voice in its very whisper thrilled with the strange music 
 that love can give to the roughest tones, his black eyes burned
 
 92 BAR ABB AS 
 
 with ardour, and his lips trembled in their eloquent appeal. 
 She heard, and a slow smile smoothed away the disdain in 
 her face ; he had grasped her left hand in his and she did not 
 withdraw it. But with her right she felt for the dagger he 
 
 rke of, it was the merest toy weapon set in a jewelled 
 ath, yet sharp and strong enough to kill. Moved by 
 capricious impulse she suddenly drew forth the blade and 
 pointed it at his breast. He did not flinch, nor did he for 
 a second remove his eyes from the adoriug contemplation of 
 her perfect loveliness. For a moment she remained thus, 
 the weapon uplifted, the radiant smile playing round her 
 mouth like a sunbeam playing round a flower, then, laughing 
 outright and joyously, she thrust back the dagger in its sheath. 
 
 " For this time I will let thee live," she said with an im- 
 perial air of condescension " The feast of death to-day hath 
 suflicient material in the traitorous Nazarene and yonder rascal 
 thieves. Only I pray thee loosen my wrist from thy rough 
 grasp, else I must hate thee. Lo, thou hast bruised me, fool ! 
 so rude a touch deserves no pardon !" 
 
 Her delicate dark brows contracted petulantly. Barabbas 
 gazed remorsefully at the red dents his fingers had made on the 
 velvet softness of her hand, adorned with a few great jewels 
 glistening star-like, but he said no word, his heart was beat- 
 ing too painfully and quickly for speech. She, meanwhile, 
 examined minutely the offending marks, then suddenly raising 
 her eyes with an indescribable witchery of glance and smile she 
 said, 
 
 " Gabrias would have kissed it !" 
 
 Had the ground opened beneath his feet, had a lightning- 
 bolt sped from heaven, Barabbas could not have been more 
 amazed and appalled. Gabrias ! The sleek, sanctimonious 
 and false-tongued Pharisee whom he slew and for whose mur- 
 der he had been cast into prison ! She, Judith, spoke of 
 him thus, and now ! With his brain in a whirl and a violent 
 fury beginning to stir in his blood, he stared at her, his face 
 livid, his eyes blazing. 
 
 " Gabrias !" he muttered thickly " What sayest thou ? 
 Gabrias" 
 
 But ere he could finish his incoherent sentence there came a 
 sudden ugly forward rush of the mob, who growing impatient 
 of restriction, sought to break the line of the soldiery in order 
 to see more clearly the preparations for the death of the " Naza- 
 rene" which were now about to commence. There ensued a
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 93 
 
 great noise and calling to order and a motley scene of confusion, 
 during which a company of imposingly attired personages ad- 
 vanced to the spot where Judith and her women stood and 
 took up their position there. Among them was the high-priest 
 Caiaphas, whose severely intellectual countenance darkened with 
 wrath as he caught sight of Barabbas. 
 
 " What doest thou here, dog ?" he demanded, approaching 
 and addressing him in a fierce whisper " Did I not warn thee ? 
 Get thee hence ! The law's release hath not made thee clean 
 of sin, thou shalt not mingle with the reputable and godly 
 in the land. Get thee hence, I say, or I will make thee accursed 
 in all men's sight, yea, even as a leper is accursed !" 
 
 His tall form quivered, and he raised his arm with a gesture 
 of stern menace. Barabbas, pale to the lips, half breathless 
 and giddy with the sickening sensations of doubt and horror 
 which Judith had so unexpectedly raised in his soul, met his 
 cold eyes unflinchingly. 
 
 " Thou insolent priest !" he said " Threaten thy curses to 
 those who fear them, but I, Barabbas, defy thee! Where- 
 fore should'st thou, liar and hypocrite, sun thyself in the smile 
 of the maiden Iscariot, and I, her friend in olden days, be by 
 thy mandate debarred her company ? Verily there is a light 
 beginning to dawn on my foolish and long-darkened brain, 
 verily I do perceive wherein my trust has been betrayed ! I 
 read thy thoughts, thou evil-minded and bloodthirsty Caiaphas ! 
 As in a vision vouchsafed in the silence of the night I see the 
 measure of thy plotting ! Look to thyself ! for 'tis not Judas 
 but thou who hast brought to this death the innocent Nazarene, 
 thou and thy tyrannous craft ! Look to thyself, for as God 
 liveth there is a vengeance waiting for thee and thine !" 
 
 He spoke at random, hardly conscious of what he said, but 
 carried away by a force and fervour not his own, which made 
 him tremble. Caiaphas retreated, staring at him in dumb rage 
 and amazement, Judith listening, laughed. 
 
 " He hath turned prophet also !" she exclaimed mirthfully 
 " Let him be crucified !" 
 
 Her malicious and cruel suggestion fell on unheeding ears, 
 for just then there was another rush and outcry from the mob, 
 and another futile struggle with the soldiers. Barabbas was 
 compelled to fight with the rest of the reckless crowd for a 
 footing, and, in the midst of the crush, a strong hand sud- 
 denly caught and plucked him as it were out of chaos. Mel- 
 hior confronted him, there was a solemn tender look in bia
 
 94 BARABBAS 
 
 eyes, the ordinary cold composure of his features was softened 
 by deep emotion. 
 
 " Thou poor rash sinner !" he said, but with great gentleness 
 " Thou hast had the first blow on thy credulous man's heart, 
 the first blight on thy erring man's passions ! Stay thou 
 now with me, and ache in silence ; let the world and its ways 
 sink out of thy sight and memory for a space, and if thy 
 soul doth crave for Love, come hither and behold it in all its 
 great supernal glory, slain to appease the ravening hate o f 
 man !" 
 
 His voice, usually so calm, shook as though tears were 
 threatening to overcome it and Barabbas, troubled, oppressed, 
 and smarting with his own sense of wrong, yielded to his touch 
 passively, moved by his words to a certain awe and self-sur- 
 render. Lifting his anguished eyes he looked fixedly at his 
 companion, 
 
 " Tell me the truth now if thou knowest it," he said in 
 hoarse accents that were almost inaudible " She is false ? 
 yet no ! Do not speak ! I could not bear it ! Let me die 
 rather than lose my faith !" 
 
 Melchior made no reply, but simply attended to the difficult 
 business of pushing and pulling him through the crowd, till 
 they managed at last to find an open spot almost immediately 
 opposite the crosses of the two thieves who by this time were 
 gasping aloud in the agonies of heat and suffocation, their 
 strained limbs visibly quivering. The men of death were all 
 gathered closely round the tall white figure of the " Nazarene," 
 they were stripping Him of His garments. Meanwhile, 
 Petronius the centurion stood by, watching the process and 
 leaning meditatively on his drawn sword. 
 
 " Pilate is crazed !" said an officer, approaching him with a 
 huge parchment scroll " Lo what he hath inscribed to be 
 nailed above the cross of the prophet from Galilee I" 
 
 Petronius took the scroll and spreading it out, read it slowly 
 and with labour for he had little scholarship. Three times 
 over were the same words written, in Greek, in Latin, and in 
 Hebrew 
 
 " JESUS OF NAZARETH, 
 KINO OP THE JEWS." 
 
 " Where see ye any madness in our governor ?" demanded 
 Petronius, " There is naught of such import in the super- 
 scription."
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 95 
 
 " Nay, but there is,' persisted the man who had brought 
 it " And so it was pointed out, for Caiaphas spake unto Pilate 
 thus ' Write not, King of the Jews, but that he said, I am 
 King of the Jews !' And Pilate, being but newly recovered 
 from his well-nigh deadly swoon, was wroth with Caiaphas, 
 and answered him in haste, saying ' What I have written, 1 
 have written /' And of a truth they parted ill friends." 
 
 Petronius said no more, but glanced at the inscription 
 again, and then, advancing, gave it to one of the executioners. 
 This man, grimy and savage-featured, surveyed it with an ad- 
 miring leer, and flattening it out, began to nail it at once to the 
 top of the great Cross which still lay on the ground where 
 Simon of Cyrene had left it, waiting for its Divine occupant. 
 With a few deft blows he soon fixed it firmly in position, and 
 satisfied with its prominent ppearance, he read it with the 
 tardy pains of a child learning its first alphabet. Tracing 
 out each letter with his blood-stained finger, he gradually un- 
 solved for himself the mystic words that have since resounded 
 through the whole civilised world, and muttered them beneath 
 his breath with a mingling of dull wonder and scorn, 
 "JESUS OF NAZARETH, 
 KING OP THE JEWS." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE scene had now assumed a wonderful and terrible pic- 
 turesqueness. The populace, finding that sudden rushes were 
 of no avail to break the firm line of the Roman soldiery, re- 
 mained wedged together in a sullen heated mass, watching the 
 proceedings in morose silence. There were a few detached 
 groups standing apart from the actual multitude, evidently by 
 permission of the authorities, one being composed of the 
 poorly-clad women whom Barabbas had seen and spoken to on 
 the way up the hill, and even at the distance he was he could 
 see the golden gleam of the Magdalen's hair, though her face 
 was buried in her hands. And, for the distraction of his 
 peace, he could also see the supple form of Judith Iscariot, 
 wrapped in her flame-coloured mantle, and looking like a tall 
 poppy-flower blossoming in the sun, the stately Caiaphas stood
 
 96 BARABBAS 
 
 beside her, with other men of note and position in the city of 
 Jerusalem, one or two of the stranger Roman nobles had de- 
 scended from their horses, and were eagerly bending towards 
 her in courtly salutation. Barabbas gazed at her and grew 
 sick at heart, a horrible disillusion and disappointment crushed 
 his spirit and filled him with a silent rage of pain, an intoler- 
 able agony of despair. All at once the ground rocked beneath 
 his feet like a wave of the sea, he staggered and would have 
 fallen had not his friend Melchior held him up. 
 
 " What is it?" he muttered, but Melchior replied not. He 
 was looking at the soldiers, who had also felt the sudden bil- 
 lowy movement of the earth on which they stood, but who, 
 trained to a wooden impassiveness, only glanced at one another 
 inquiringly for a second and then resumed their stiff attitude 
 and immobility of expression. The ground steadied itself as 
 swiftly as it had trembled, and the populace, in their intense 
 excitement, had evidently failed to note its momentary undu- 
 lation. 
 
 Presently a loud roar of ferocious delight went up from the 
 mob, the executioners had stripped the Condemned of His 
 garments, and, pleased with the texture and softness of their 
 material, were now casting lots for their possession. They dis- 
 puted loudly and angrily, the chief contention raging over the 
 question as to who should have the upper robe or mantle 
 which was made of pure white wool, woven smoothly through- 
 out from top to hem without seam. Throwing it from hand 
 to hand they examined the fleecy fabric with covetous eager- 
 ness, making clamorous and conflicting assertions as to its actual 
 monetary value, much as the relatives of a dead man squabble 
 over the division of his poor earthly property. And in the 
 meantime while they argued hotly together and lost patience 
 one with the other, the immortal " Nazarene" stood ungar- 
 mented, awaiting their cruel pleasure. His grand Figure shone 
 white as polished alabaster in the brilliant sun, an inward 
 luminance gleamed like fire through the azure branches of His 
 veins and the spotless purity of His flesh ; His arms had been 
 unbound, and with an air of mingled relief and weariness He 
 stretched them forth as one conscious of pleasant freedom, and 
 the shadow of their whiteness fell on the dull brown earth like 
 a reflection of the Cross on which He was so soon to perish. 
 And when he allowed them to drop again, gently and languidly 
 at His sides, that shadow seemed yet to stay upon the ground 
 and deepen and darken. No clouds were in the sky ; the sun
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 97 
 
 was at full dazzle and splendour, nevertheless that mysterious 
 stain widened and spread slowly, as though some sudden moist- 
 ure beneath the soil were gradually rising to an overflow. Ba- 
 rabbas noticed it, he saw too that Melchior observed the 
 same phenomenon, but neither of them spoke. For the in- 
 terest and horror of the Divine drama were now culminating 
 to their supremest point ; the casting of lots for the garments 
 of the Condemned was over, and each man was apparently 
 satisfied with his share of the spoil. The chief executioner, 
 not without a touch of pity in his rough face, approached the 
 " Nazarene," and instead of using force as he had been com- 
 pelled to do in the case of the crucified malefactors, bade Him, 
 in a low tone, take His place upon the Cross without offering 
 useless resistance to the law. The terrible mandate was obeyed 
 instantly and unhesitatingly. With perfect calmness and the 
 serene ease of one who, being tired, is glad to rest, the Ruler 
 of the Worlds laid Himself down within the waiting arms of 
 Death. As peacefully as a weary traveller might stretch him- 
 self upon a couch of softest luxury, so did the Conqueror of 
 Time stretch out His glorious limbs upon the knotty wooden 
 beams of torture, with sublime readiness and unconquerable 
 patience. Had He spoken at that thrilling moment He might 
 have said " Even so, children of My Father, lay your- 
 selves down upon the rack of the world's misprisal and con- 
 tempt ! If ye would win a force divine, stretch out your limb* 
 in readiness to be pierced by the nails that shall be driven into 
 them by friends and foes ! Wear ye the crown of thorns till 
 the blood starts from your aching brows, be stripped bare to 
 the malicious gaze of sensuality and sin ! Let them think 
 that they have tortured you, slain you, buried you, hidden 
 you out of sight and out of mind ! Then arise, ye children 
 of My Father, arise on the wings of the morning, full-filled 
 with power ! power living, everlasting, and triumphant ! for 
 ye shall see the world at your feet and all heaven opened above 
 you ; the circling universe shall ring with the music of your 
 names and the story of your faithfulness, and sphere upon 
 sphere of Angels shall rejoice with you in glory ! For behold, 
 from this day henceforth, I and those whom I call Mine, shall 
 alter Death to Life and Life to Immortality." 
 
 But no words such as these were uttered : the Divine lips 
 
 were fast closed and mute as heaven itself. But from the 
 
 watching crowd there went up a faint murmur of irrepressible 
 
 admiration for the tranquil heroism with which the young 
 
 B 9 9
 
 98 BARABBAS 
 
 " Prophet of Galilee" accepted His fate, as well as for the 
 singularly sculptural beauty and resignation of His attitude. 
 The executioners approached Him with a certain aw* and 
 timorousness. 
 
 " One would think him made of marble," muttered one, 
 pausing, hammer in hand. 
 
 " Marble doth not bleed, thou fool 1" said his fellow harshly, 
 yet with an angry consciousness that he too felt a tremor of 
 fear and repugnance at the work about to be done. 
 
 The other men were silent. 
 
 The select and richly-attired company of those influential 
 or wealthy persons who were standing immediately round the 
 high-priest Caiaphas, now advanced a little, and Judith Is- 
 cariot, radiant as a sun-flash embodied in woman's shape, leaned 
 forward eagerly with the pleased smile of a child who is prom- 
 ised some rare and mirthful gala show. Her brilliant dark 
 eyes rolled indifferently and coldly over the outstretched Form 
 upon the Cross, her jewelled vest rose and fell lightly with 
 the gradual excited quickening of her breath. She looked, 
 but she did not speak, she seemed to gloat silently upon the 
 prospect of the blood-shedding and torture soon to ensue. 
 And from the opposite side to that on which she stood, there 
 suddenly emerged another woman, young and fair as she, 
 though worn with weeping, a woman whose wild white face 
 was like that of some beautiful sad angel in torment. Throw- 
 ing up her hands in a dumb frenzy of protest and appeal, she 
 ran unsteadily forward a few steps, then stopped and fell on 
 her knees, covering her anguished features in the loosened 
 shower of her golden hair with a low shuddering cry. None 
 out of the assembled throng went to offer her comfort or assist- 
 ance, people peered curiously at her over each other's shoul- 
 ders, exchanging a few side-looks of derision and contempt, 
 but not a soul approached her save one, one of her own sex, 
 who was closely veiled, and who, advancing with a light yet 
 queenly tread, knelt down beside her, and passing one arm 
 around her, laid her forlorn fair head against her breast and so 
 quietly remained. Judith Iscariot, lifting her ringed hand to 
 her eyes to shade them from the sun's glare, gazed at that 
 kneeling group of two with haughty disgust and scorn. 
 
 " Lo, the sinners with whom this madman of Galilee con- 
 sorted!" she exclaimed to Caiaphas "Yonder yellow-haired 
 vileness is the Magdalen, she should be stoned from hence 1" 
 
 " Yea verily she should be stoned from any place where thou
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 99 
 
 dost pass, fair Judith !" said Caiaphas deferentially, yet with 
 the shadow of a sneer on his thin pale lips " Evil company 
 should be far distant from thee, and for this cause did I just 
 lately chase the insolent Barabbas from thy presence. But con- 
 cerning this woman Magdalen, yonder matron who doth thus 
 embrace her, cannot immediately be spoken with or banished 
 from this place, for 'tis the Mother of the Galilean. She hath 
 come hither to behold him die. Were we to visit her with 
 harshness, or deny and deprive her of her privilege to watch 
 this death and make fitting lament thereon, she and the women 
 she elects as friends, the populace would raise an outcry 
 against us, and most justly. For law must ever go hand in 
 hand with mercy. Have patience then, good Judith, till the 
 end, though of a truth I crave to know why thou hast ven- 
 tured hither if thou art offended at the sight of sinners ? In 
 such a multitude as this thou can'st not hope to find all vir- 
 tuous!" 
 
 Something sarcastic in the tone of his voice called up a sud- 
 den red flush on Judith's cheeks, but her eyes grew cold and 
 hard as a midnight frost. 
 
 " I, like the mother of the Nazarene, have come to see him 
 die !" she said with a cruel smile, " She will watch his torture 
 with tears doubtless, but I, with laughter ! His agony will 
 be my joy ! For I hate him, I hate him ! He hath cast 
 dissension in our house, he hath turned my brother's heart 
 from mine, aud made of him a slave to his fanatic doctrine. 
 For look you, what happier man was there than Judas, be- 
 loved of my father, and dear to me beyond all earthly count- 
 ings, till in an evil hour he was ensnared from home by idle 
 rumours of the power of this boastful prophet of Galilee ? 
 What needed we of any new religion, we who served the God 
 of Abraham, of Isaac and of Jacob, and who had followed the 
 teachings of the law from our youth up till now ? Is it not a 
 shame to speak it, a shame to think it, that Judas, well-born 
 and comely of countenance, my father's only son and heir, hath 
 actually wandered in vagabondage across the land with this 
 carpenter's son of Nazareth, dwelling among common fisher- 
 folk, visiting the unclean and leprous poor, eating the husks of 
 want instead of the bread of plenty, deserting his home, for- 
 saking me, his sister, and disobeying his father's command, all 
 for the sake of this impostor who hath at last been found guilty 
 of blasphemy and condemned to his long-deserved death. 
 Judge how I hate the traitor ! Ay, with a hate surpassing any
 
 100 BARABBAS 
 
 love ! I rose betimes this morning to be the witness of his 
 trial, when the mob were inclined to pity, I whispered words 
 that roused them anew to wrath, 'twas I who gave the key- 
 note ' Crucify him !' did'st thou not mark how readily the 
 chorus answered ?" 
 
 Caiaphas looked down a trifle uneasily, then up again. 
 
 " Yea, I did mark it," he said softly " And that I heard 
 and knew thy voice is no matter for surprise, seeing that it was 
 a strain of music amid much discord. And freely do I sym- 
 pathise with thy sorrow concerning Judas, thy brother was 
 ever thy dear and favourite companion, and this Galilean mir- 
 acle-monger hath brought him naught save ruin. He hath fled 
 the city they say. Knowest thou whither ?" 
 
 A vague anxiety shadowed the beautiful face he watched so 
 narrowly. 
 
 " Nay, not I," she answered, and her accents trembled 
 " Last night he came to me, 'twas after he had led the guards 
 to the garden of Gethsemane where they captured the Naza- 
 rene, and like a madman, he called down curses upon himself 
 and me. He was distraught, I knew him not, he raged and 
 swore. I strove to calm him, he thrust me from him, I 
 called him by every endearing name, but he was as one deaf to 
 affection or to reason ; I bade him think of our dead mother, 
 how she loved him, he shrieked at me as though I had 
 plunged a dagger in his heart. Our father besought him with 
 tears to remember all the claims of family and duty, but still 
 he raved and beat his breast, crying aloud ' I have sinned ! I 
 have sinned ! The weight of heaven and earth crushes my soul 
 . the innocent blood is red upon my hands ! I have sinned ! 
 I have sinned !' Then with a sudden violence he flung us from 
 him, and rushed furiously from our dwelling out into the night. 
 I followed him fast, hoping to stay him ere he could have left 
 our garden, but his was a crazed speed, I found him not. 
 The moon was shining and the air was still, but he had gone, 
 and since then I have not seen him." 
 
 Two tears quivered on her silky lashes and fell among the 
 jewels at her breast. A gathering trouble darkened the high- 
 priest's countenance. 
 
 u 'Tis strange," he muttered " 'Tis very strange ! He hath 
 fulfilled a duty to the laws of his people, and now, when all is 
 done, he should rejoice and not lament. Nevertheless, be sure 
 his humour is but temporarily distracted, though I recognise 
 the actual cause thou hast for sisterly misgiving. Yet take
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 101 
 
 thou comfort in believing all is well, and let thy thirst of 
 vengeance now be satisfied, for see, they do begin to nail the 
 malefactor down." 
 
 He spoke thus, partly to divert Judith's thoughts from 
 anxiety on her brother's account, and partly because just then 
 he saw Petronius the centurion give the fatal signal. Petro- 
 nius had in truth purposely delayed this act till the last possible 
 moment, and now, when he was finally compelled to lift his 
 gauntleted hand in sign that the terrible work of torture should 
 commence, he caught, for the further inward distress and re- 
 morse of his mind, a sudden look from the patient, upturned, 
 Divine eyes. Such eyes ! shining like twin stars beneath the 
 grand supernal brows round which the rose-thorns pressed their 
 piercing circlet, eyes alit with some supreme inscrutable 
 secret spell that had the power to shake the spirit of the strong- 
 est man. Petronius could not bear those eyes, their lustrous 
 purity and courage were too much for his composure, and 
 trembling from head to foot with an almost womanish nervous- 
 ness he turned abruptly away. The murmuring noise of the 
 vast expectant multitude died off gradually like the retreating 
 surge of a distant sea, a profound silence reigned, and the 
 hot movelessness of the air grew more and more weightily in- 
 tensified. The executioners having received their commands, 
 and overcoming their momentary hesitation, gathered in a rough 
 half-nude group around the Cross whereon lay unresistingly the 
 Wonder of the Ages, and knelt to their hideous task, their 
 muscular brown arms, grimy with dust and stained already 
 with splashes of blood from the crucifying of the two thieves, 
 contrasting strangely with the dazzling whiteness of the Figure 
 before them. They paused a moment, holding the huge long- 
 pointed nails aloft, . . . would this Man of Nazareth struggle ? 
 would it be needful to rope His limbs to the wooden beams 
 as they had done to the other two condemned? With the 
 fierce scrutiny of those accustomed to signs of rebellion in the 
 tortured, they studied their passive Captive, . . . not a quiver 
 stirred the firmly composed limbs, ... not a shade of anxiety 
 or emotion troubled the fair face, . . . while the eyes, rolled 
 up to the blinding splendour of the sky, were gravely thought- 
 ful and full of peace. No bonds were needed here; the 
 Galilean was of marvellously heroic mould, and every hard- 
 ened torturer around Him, silently in his heart of hearts recog- 
 nised and respected the fact. Without further parley they 
 commenced their work, . . . and the startled earth, affrighted, 
 9*
 
 102 BARABBAS 
 
 groaned aloud in cavernous echoes as the cruel hammers heavily 
 rose and fell, clanging out the tocsin of a God's death and a 
 world's redemption. And at the self-same moment, up to the 
 far star-girdled Throne of the Eternal, sped the tender low- 
 breathed supplication of the dying Well- Beloved, 
 
 " Father t forgive them, for they know not what they do !" 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A DREADFUL hush of horror reigned. The stirless heat of 
 the atmosphere felt as heavy to the senses as an overhanging 
 solid mass of burning iron. The forces of Nature seemed 
 paralysed, as though some sudden shock had been dealt at the 
 core of life, or as though the rolling world had paused, palpi- 
 tating for breath in its pacing round the sun. Not a sound 
 broke the oppressive stillness save the dull reverberation of the 
 hammers at their deadly business, for the vast human multi- 
 tude stood dumb, sullenly watching the working of their will, 
 yet moved by a vague remorse and an equally vague terror. 
 Not one among them would have dared to suggest at this late 
 hour any mercy for the Victim ; they, the people, had desired 
 this thing, and their desire was being accomplished. All being 
 carried out as they wished, they could not well complain, nor 
 could they recall their own decision. But there was something 
 unnatural and ghastly in the scene, a chill sense of nameless 
 desolation began to creep upon the air, and while each man 
 and woman present strained both body and sight to see the fine 
 fair limbs of the " Galilean" pierced through and fastened to 
 the torture-tree, they were all conscious of fear ; fear of what 
 or of whom, none could have truly told, nevertheless fear dom- 
 inated and daunted the spirits of every one. And it was this 
 unconfessed inexplicable alarm that kept them silent, so that 
 not even a whispered " Alas I" escaped from any pitying voice 
 when the beauteously arched, delicate feet of the Divine Suf- 
 ferer were roughly seized, crossed over and held in position by 
 one executioner, while another placed the nail in the nerve- 
 centres of the tender flesh. A third callous ruffian dealt the 
 measured blows which drove in the thick, sharp iron prong 
 with a Blow force calculated to double and treble the exquisite
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 103 
 
 agony of lingering martyrdom, and Bwiftly the hurt veins 
 rebelled against their wrong in bursting jets of innocent blood. 
 The crimson stain welled up and made a piteous rose on the torn 
 skin's whiteness, but He who was thus wounded, stirred not at 
 all, nor uttered a cry. His human flesh mutely complained of 
 human injustice in those reproachful red life-drops ; but the 
 indomitable Spirit that dwelt within that flesh made light of 
 merely mortal torment, and was already seizing Death in the 
 grasp of victory. And the feet that had borne their Owner 
 into dreary, forsaken ways where the poor and the outcast 
 dwell in sorrow, that had lightly paused among the " lilies of 
 the field" while such sweet words were spoken as made these 
 simple flowers talismans of grace for ever, that had moved 
 softly and tenderly through the fields of corn and gardens of 
 olive, and villages and towns alike, carrying consolation to the 
 sad, hope to the lost, strength to the weak, now throbbed 
 and ached and bled in anguish for man's ingratitude, man's 
 forgetfulness, man's abhorrence of the truth and suicidal doubt 
 of God. How easy it is to hate ! . . . how difficult to love, 
 as Love demands ! . . . Many assembled there on Calvary that 
 never-to-be-forgotten day, had listened to the fearless and holy 
 teaching of Him whose torment they now coldly watched, when 
 in the fields, on the hills or by the reverent sea, He had taught 
 them the startling new lesson that " God is a Spirit ; and 
 they that worship Him must worship Him in Spirit and in 
 Truth" No savage " Jehovah- Jireh," craving for murder and 
 thirsting for vengeance was the supreme Creator, but a Father, 
 a loving Father, of whom this youthful Prophet with the 
 heaven-lit eyes had said " Fear not, little flock ! it is your 
 Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom /" He, 
 this Man upon the Cross, had on one memorable morning, 
 gathered about Hun a crowd of the fallen and sick and poor 
 and disconsolate, and with a tender smile as radiant as the 
 summer sunshine, had said " Come unto Me, all ye that are 
 weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest !" . . . And 
 they had come, those heart-broken and agonised of the earth, 
 they had knelt and wept at His feet, they had kissed His 
 garments and the ground on which He trod, they had placed 
 their little children in His arms, and had told Him all their sor- 
 rows. And He had laid His hands upon them in blessing, those 
 fair white hands of mystic power and healing which dispensed 
 naught but good, but which now, palms outward, were fastened 
 to the death-rack, ... a symbolic token of the world's reward
 
 104 BARABBAS 
 
 to all its noblest souls ! . . . The blood oozed slowly and re 
 luctantly from those hands, but, as was usual in the dolours of 
 crucifixion, gathered itself painfully in the outstretched arms, 
 swelling the veins and knotting the muscles, though as yet 
 the terrible ordeal had not reached its height, for the Cross had 
 still to be lifted. For that tremendous uplifting the whole 
 universe waited, for that, the very heavens were at pause and 
 the angels stricken dumb ! 
 
 The executioners having finished the first part of their task, 
 now beckoned the centurion to step forward and see for him- 
 self that the nails in the Victim's body were secure, so that he 
 might be able to certify to the authorities that the law had been 
 adequately fulfilled. With a sickening heart, Petronius obeyed 
 the signal. But his sight was dazzled, his brain reeled, 
 there was a choking dryness in his throat, and he could not 
 speak a word. Yet this time the Man of Sorrows never looked 
 at him, the Divine orbs of light and genius were turned to 
 heaven alone, as though absorbing the fiery glory of the sun. 
 And, was it fancy, or some delusion of his own sense of 
 vision that suddenly gave him the impression of an approach- 
 ing darkness in the sky ? as if indeed the sun were losing 
 lustre? He rubbed his eyes and gazed dubiously about, 
 surely a mysterious shadow as of outspread wings rested on the 
 landscape ! Were the people, were the soldiers conscious of 
 this ? Apparently not. Their attention was concentrated on 
 the work of death, and there was a general eager forward 
 movement of the crowd to see the Cross set up. As Petro- 
 nius, dazed and bewildered, stepped back, the executioners, six 
 in all, men of sinewy and powerful build, bent themselves 
 energetically to the completion of their work, ... in vain! 
 Their united forces could not raise the world's Eternal Sym- 
 bol one inch from the ground. They struggled and dragged at 
 it, the sweat pouring from their brows, but its priceless freight 
 of Godhead, Majesty and Love resisted all their efforts. 
 
 " I said he was a Hercules," growled the chief man, wring- 
 ing the perspiration from his rough beard, " The Cross itself 
 is of uncommon size, and he upon it hath the mould of heroes. 
 What, Simon ! Simon of Gyrene ! Art thou there ?" 
 
 The crowd moved and murmured and made way, and 
 Simon, thus apostrophised, came slowly to the front. 
 
 "What need ye more of me?" he demanded sullenly, 
 "Think ye I will aid in murder?" 
 
 " Thou Libyan ass I" retorted the executioner " Who talks
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 1JJ5 
 
 of murder ? This is the law's work, not ours. Lend us thy 
 brawny arms a minute's space, thou art made in a giant's 
 shape, and should'st have a giant's |force withal. An' thou 
 wilt not" he added in a lower tone " we must use greater 
 roughness." 
 
 Simon hesitated, then, as if inwardly compelled, advanced 
 submissively to the foot of the Cross. His eyes were cast 
 down, and he bit his lips to hide their nervous trembling. 
 
 " Lift ye all together the upper beams" he said softly to 
 the executioners, hushing his voice like one who speaks in 
 rapture or in reverence " I will support the end." 
 
 They stared amazedly, he was voluntarily choosing the 
 greater weight which would inevitably be his to bear directly 
 the Cross was raised. But they offered no opposition. 
 Stronger than any lion he was known to be, let him test his 
 strength now, for here was his opportunity ! So they thought 
 as they went in the direction he indicated, three men to the 
 right and three to the left. The excitement of the people was 
 now intense, so passionately absorbed indeed had it become 
 that none seemed to be aware of a singular circumstance that 
 with each moment grew more pronounced and evident, this 
 was the solemn spreading of a semi-darkness which, like 
 advancing twilight, began gradually to blot out all the brilliant 
 blue of the afternoon skies. It came on stealthily and almost 
 imperceptibly, but the crowd saw nothing as yet, . . . noth- 
 ing but the huge bronzed figure of Simon stooping to lift the 
 Crucified. Tenderly, and with a strange air of humiliation, 
 the rough-featured black-browed Cyrenian laid hands upon the 
 Cross once more, the Cross he had so lightly borne to Calvary, 
 and grasping it firmly, drew it up, up by slow and sure de- 
 grees, till the pierced and bleeding feet of the Christ came close 
 against his straining breast, . . . inch by inch, with panting 
 breath and an ardent force that was more like love than cruelty, 
 he lifted it higher and higher from the ground, the executioners 
 holding and guiding the transverse beams upward till these were 
 beyond their reach, and Simon alone, with wildly beating 
 heart and muscles stretched nigh to breaking, supported for one 
 lightning instant the world's Redeemer in his arms ! He 
 staggered and groaned, the blood rushed to his face and the 
 veins in his forehead swelled, . . . but he held his ground for 
 that one terrible moment, . . . then, ... a dozen men rushed 
 excitedly to his assistance, and with their aid, the great Cross, 
 with the greatest Love transfixed upon it, was thrust into the
 
 106 BARABBAS 
 
 deep socket dug for its reception on the summit of the hill. It 
 fell in with a thudding reverberation as though its end had 
 struck the very centre of the earth, and trembling to and fro 
 for a few seconds like a tree shaken by a storm-wind, was soon 
 perfectly still, fixed steadily upright between the two already 
 crucified thieves, who though dying fast, were not yet dead. 
 Salvation's Symbol stood declared ! and Simon of Gyrene, 
 having done all he was needed to do, retreated slowly with 
 faltering steps and swimming brain, conscious only of one 
 thing, that the blood of the Victim had stained his breast, 
 and that the stain seemed to burn his flesh like fire. He folded 
 his garment over it to hide it, as though it were a magic talis- 
 man which must for safety's sake be well concealed ; it gave 
 him pain as much as if he had himself been wounded, . . . 
 and yet ... it was a pang that thrilled and warmed his soul ! 
 He saw nothing, the earth appeared to eddy round him like 
 a wave, but he stumbled on blindly, heedless of whither he 
 went and forcing his way through the crowd that gaped at him 
 in wonderment, the while he muttered from time to time under 
 his breath the words of the inscription above the head of the 
 Divine Martyr, 
 
 " JESUS OP NAZARETH, KING OP THE JEWS !" 
 And now, the Cross being openly set up, and the slow 
 devourings of death having commenced upon the sinless Sacri- 
 fice, a long wild shout of savage exultation arose from the 
 multitude, a shout that rang in harsh hoarse echoes over the 
 hill, through the low-lying gardens beyond, and away as it 
 seemed to the summit of Mount Moriah, where over Solomon's 
 glistening Temple, a cloud as of dust or smoke, hung like a 
 warning of storm and fire. And the barbaric human clamour 
 as it mutteringly died- away was suddenly taken up and all 
 unexpectedly answered by a grander uproar, a deep, threaten- 
 ing boom of far-off thunder. In circling tones and semi-tones 
 of wrath it volleyed through the skies, and, startled by the 
 sound, the people, roused for the first time from their morbid 
 engrossment in the work of cruel torture and blood-shedding, 
 looked up and saw that the heavens were growing dark and 
 that the sun was nearly covered by an inky black cloud, from 
 which its rim peered feebly like a glimmering half-moon. 
 Against the background of that obscured sun and sable cloud 
 the Cross stood clear, the outstretched Figure on it, looking, in 
 that livid murkiness, whiter than a shape of snow, and the 
 multitude silenced anew by some strange terror, watched and
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY J07 
 
 listened, chained in their thousands to the one spot by mingled 
 fear and fascination. Afraid to move they knew not why, and 
 waiting for they knew not what, they gazed all with one accord 
 at the huge Cross and its emblazoned Glory suspended between 
 them and the pallidly vanishing sun, and murmured to one 
 another vaguely between-whiles of storm and rain, there 
 would be a heavy shower they said, good for the land and 
 cooling to the air. But they spoke at random, their thoughts 
 were not with their words, and their minds were ill at ease. 
 For the omnipresent spirit of fear, like a chill wind, breathed 
 upon their nerves, lifting the very hair of their flesh and caus- 
 ing their limbs to tremble. And ever the skies darkened, and 
 ever, with scarce a moment's pause, the gathering thunders 
 rolled. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 DEEPER and deeper drooped the dull grey gloom, like a 
 curtain falling slowly and impenetrably over all things. The 
 strange stillness of the multitude, . . . the heavy breathless- 
 ness of the air, . . . and the appalling effect of the three 
 crosses with the tortured figures on them, standing out against 
 the lurid storm-light, were sufficient to inspire a sense of awe 
 and dread in the mind of the most hardened and callous be- 
 holder. The booming thunder swinging to and fro in the 
 clouds resembled the sepulchral sound of an iron-tongued 
 funeral bell, half muffled, half clamant, . . . and presently 
 the landscape took upon itself a spectral look, as of being a 
 dream scene unsubstantially formed of flitting vapour. The 
 circling line of the Roman soldiery appeared to lessen to the 
 merest thread of gleaming steel, the serried ranks of the 
 populace merged into a confused, apparently intangible blur, 
 and in the singular flitting and wavering of light and shade, it 
 happened that at last only the one central Cross became pre- 
 eminently visible. Outlined with impressive distinctness, it 
 suddenly seemed to assume gigantic proportions, stretching 
 interminably as it were to east and west, up to heaven and 
 down to earth, while behind the head of the Divine Crucified, 
 a golden pearl of the veiled sun shone like the suggestion of a 
 new world bursting into being. One instant this weird glamour
 
 108 BARABBAS 
 
 lasted, . . . and then a blue blaze of lightning cut up the sky 
 into shreds and bars, followed instantaneously by a terrific clap 
 of thunder. Men grew pale, . . . women screamed, . . . 
 even the soldiers lost their wonted composure and looked at 
 each other in doubting and superstitious dread. For they had 
 their gods, these rough untutored men, they believed in the 
 angers of Jupiter, and if the fierce god's chariot-wheels were 
 rattling through the far empyrean thus furiously, surely his 
 wrath would soon exceed all bounds 1 And could it be because 
 the " Nazarene" was crucified ? Their darkening countenances 
 full of apprehension, expressed their thoughts, and the high- 
 priest Caiaphas, quick to detect the least hint of a change in 
 the popular sentiment, became uneasy. This storm, com- 
 mencing at the very moment of the crucifixion, might so im- 
 press and terrify the ignorant rabble, that they might imagine 
 the death of the Galilean Prophet was being visited on them by 
 the powers of heaven, and possibly might insist on having Him 
 taken down from the Cross after all. He imparted his politic 
 fears to Judith Iscariot in a whisper, she too had grown pale 
 at the loud threat of the gathering storm, and was not without 
 a nervous sense of alarm, but she was prouder than most of 
 her sex, and scorned to outwardly show any misgiving what- 
 ever she inwardly felt. And while Caiaphas yet murmured 
 discreetly in her ear, a sudden glow as of fire was flung upon 
 Calvary, the sable mask of cloud slid from the sun, and 
 wide rays of light tinged with a singular redness like that of 
 an out-breaking volcano, blazed forth brilliantly over the hill. 
 Cheered by the splendour, the people threw off, in part, their 
 vague terrors, their faces brightened, and Caiaphas profiting 
 by his opportunity, stepped out in full view of the crowd, and 
 advanced majestically towards the Cross from which the " King 
 of the Jews" looked down upon him. Lifting his hand to 
 shade his eyes from the crimson glare which haloed with a 
 burning ring the outstretched patient Figure, he exclaimed in 
 clear loud accents " Thou that destroy est the temple and 
 buildest it in three days, save thyself and come down from 
 tlie cross !" 
 
 The multitude heard, and roared applause and laughter. 
 Even the grim soldiers smiled for, thought they, if the Man 
 of Galilee were a true miracle-worker, He could never have a 
 better opportunity for displaying His powers than now. Caia- 
 phas smiled proudly, he had struck the right note, and had 
 distracted the attention of the mob from their personal alarms
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 109 
 
 of the storm, to renewed interest in the cruelty that was being 
 enacted. Still standing before the Cross, he studied with 
 placid pitilessness every outline of the perfect Human Shape 
 in which Divine Glory was concealed, and watched with the 
 scientific interest of a merciless torturer the gradual welling up 
 and slow dropping of blood from the wounded hands and feet, 
 the pained, patient struggling of the quickened breath, 
 the pale parted lips, the wearily-drooping, half-closed eyes. 
 Annas, sleek and sly, with an air of hypocritical forbearance 
 and compassion, approached also, and looked up at the same 
 piteous spectacle. Then, rubbing his hands gently together, 
 he said softly, yet distinctly, 
 
 "He saved others, himself he cannot save ! If he be the 
 King of Israel, let him now come down from the cross and we 
 will believe him .'" 
 
 The dying thief Hanan, now in the last stage of his agony, 
 caught these words, and twisting himself fiercely forward 
 muttered groans and hideous curses. His neck swelled, his 
 tongue protruded, and the frightful effort he made to speak 
 distorted his whole repulsive countenance, while his body 
 agitated by muscular twitchings, violently shook the cross on 
 which he was roped and nailed. 
 
 " Thou blasphemer !" he gasped at last, rolling his fierce 
 eyes round and fixing them on the fair thorn-crowned Head 
 that with every moment drooped lower and lower, " Well it 
 is that thou should'st die, ... yet willingly would I have 
 seen Barabbas nailed where thou art ! Nevertheless thou art 
 a false and evil prophet, if thou be the Christ, save thyself 
 and us /" 
 
 The other crucified malefactor, close upon his end, and pant- 
 ing out his life in broken breaths of anguish, suddenly writhed 
 himself upward against his cross, and forced himself to lift 
 his heavy head. 
 
 " Hanan !" he muttered hoarsely, " Dost thou not fear God ? 
 . . . Seeing thou art in the same condemnation ?" He broke 
 off, struggling against the suffocation in his throat, then con- 
 tinued to murmur incoherently, " And we indeed justly, . . . 
 for we receive the due reward of our deeds, . . . but this Man 
 hath done nothing amiss" 
 
 Again he stopped. All at once a great wonder, rapture and 
 expectation flashed into his livid face and lightened his glazing 
 eyes. He uttered a loud cry, turning himself with all his 
 strength towards the silent Christ. 
 10
 
 HO B ARABS AS 
 
 " Lord . . . Lord" ... he stammered feebly. " Remem- 
 ber me . . . when . . . thou earnest . . . into . . . thy King- 
 dom!" 
 
 Slowly, with aching difficulty, but with unconquerably 
 tender patience, the Divine head was gently raised, the lus- 
 trous suffering eyes bent their everlasting love upon him, and 
 a low voice, hushed and sad, yet ever musical, responded, 
 
 " Verily I say unto thee, This day shalt thou be with Me 
 in Paradise !" 
 
 And as the wondrous promise reached his ears, the tortured 
 and repenting sinner smiled, the anguish passed away from 
 his features leaving them smooth and calm, and with one 
 faint groan his head fell heavily forward on his chest, . . . 
 his limbs ceased trembling, ... he was dead. Hanan still 
 lingered in the throes of reluctant dissolution, his awful 
 struggle having become a mere savage revolt of material nature 
 from which the strongest turned away their eyes, shuddering. 
 
 Another reverberating crash of thunder bellowed through 
 the sky ; this time the earth rocked in answer, and the people 
 were seized anew with dread. Caiaphas, self-possessed and full 
 of dignity, still held his ground, ready to face and quell any 
 fresh superstitious alarms, inviting by his very attitude as it 
 were, all the world to bear witness to the justice of the law's 
 condemnation. Pointing upward to the Cross, he cried 
 aloud, 
 
 " He trusted in God ! Let Him deliver him now if He 
 will have him ; for he said, I am the Son of God /' ' 
 
 But the multitude were not so ready to respond as before, 
 they were troubled by forebodings and fears which they could 
 not explain, and their eyes were not so much fixed on the 
 crucified "Nazarene" as on the sun behind Him, the sun 
 which now looked like a strange new planet coloured a blackish 
 red. They were also noting the conduct of a small brown bird, 
 which had settled on the Cross, and was now desperately pluck- 
 ing with its tiny beak at the crown of thorns that circled the 
 bleeding brows of the " King." A soldier threw a stone at 
 it, it flew away, but swiftly returned to resume its singular, 
 self-appointed task. Again and again it was driven off, and 
 again and again it came back fearlessly, fluttering round the 
 shining head of the Christ, and striving, as it seemed, to tear off 
 the thorny coronal. Its feeble but heroic efforts were rewarded 
 by one upward glance from the loving eyes of the Beloved, 
 and then the innocent feathered creature, mournfully chirping,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY HI 
 
 flew away for the last time, its downy breast torn and stained 
 with blood, but otherwise uninjured. 
 
 This trifling incident gave a singular emotion of pleasure to 
 the crowd. They found something touching and dramatic in 
 it, and the bird's wound of love elicited far more sympathy 
 than the speechless and supernal sorrows of the Man Divine. 
 Compassion and interest for birds and animals and creeping 
 things of the wood and field often distinguish the otherwise 
 selfish and cold-hearted ; and many a man has been known to 
 love a dog when in human relationships he would willingly 
 slander his friend or slay his brother. 
 
 Again a shaft of lightning flashed through the heavens, 
 followed by a lion-like hungry roar of thunder, and many of 
 the people began to move to and fro troublously, and turn their 
 eyes from the hill city-wards in alarm and anxiety. All at 
 once in the full red glare of the volcanic sun Judith Iscariot 
 ran forward excitedly, her flame-coloured mantle falling away 
 from her tawny gold tresses, her lips parted in a smile, her 
 glowing exquisite face upturned, and the jewels on her attire 
 gleaming with lurid sparks like the changing hues of a serpent's 
 throat. Lifting up her round white arm, ablaze with gems 
 from wrist to shoulder, she pointed derisively at the dying 
 Christ and laughed, then making an arch of her two hands 
 above her mouth so that her voice might carry to its farthest, 
 she cried aloud to Him mockingly, 
 
 " If thou be the Son of God, come down from the Cross!" 
 
 The words rang out with vibrating distinctness, clear as a 
 bell, and Barabbas, though he was at some distance off, heard 
 them, and saw that it was Judith who spoke. Moved to an 
 unspeakable horror and dismay, he rushed towards her, scarcely 
 knowing what he did, but full of the idea that he must stop 
 her cruel, unwomanly gibing, must drag her away, by sheer 
 force if necessary, from the position she had taken up below 
 the Cross. Her beautiful figure standing there looked strange 
 and devilish, her red mantle caught blood-like gleams from 
 the red sun, above her the tortured limbs of the God-Man 
 shone marble white and almost luminous, while His dreamful 
 face, drooped downward, now had upon it a stern shadow like 
 the solemn unspoken pronouncement of an eternal reproach and 
 doom. And the radiant mirthful malice of the woman's eyes 
 flashed up at that austerely sublime countenance in light scorn 
 and ridicule, as with shriller yet still silver-sounding utterance, 
 he cried again,
 
 112 B ARABS AS 
 
 " Hearest thou me, thou boaster and blasphemer ? If thou 
 be the Son of God, come down from the Cross!' 1 
 
 As the wicked taunt left her lips for the second time, a 
 twisted and broken flash of lightning descended from heaven 
 like the flaming portion of a destroyed planet, and striking 
 straight across the scarlet ball of the sun, seemed literally to set 
 the Cross on fire. Blazing from end to end of its tranverse 
 beams in a flare of blue and amber, it poured lurid reflections on 
 all sides, illumining with dreadful distinctness the pallid shape 
 of the Man of Sorrows for one ghastly instant, and then van- 
 ished, chased into retreat by such a deafening clatter and clash 
 of thunder as seemed to split a thousand rolling worlds in 
 heaven. At the same moment the earth heaved up, and 
 appeared to stagger like a ship in a wild sea, .... and with 
 a sudden downward swoop as of some colossal eagle, dense 
 darkness fell, impenetrable, sooty darkness that in one breath 
 of time blotted out the face of nature and made of the sum- 
 mer-flowering land a blind black chaos. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SHRIEKS and groans, confusion and clamour, wild shouts 
 for help, wilder cries for light, and the bewildering, mad- 
 dening knowledge that numbers of reckless terrified human 
 beings were rushing hither and thither, unseeingly and dis- 
 tractedly, these were the first results of that abrupt descent 
 of black night in bright day. " Light ! Give us light, 
 God !" wailed a woman's voice piercing through the dismal 
 dark ; and the frantic appeal, " Light ! light !" was re-echoed 
 a thousand times by the miserable, desperate, wholly panic- 
 stricken crowd. To and fro wandered straggling swarms of 
 men and women, touching each other, grasping each other, but 
 unable to discern the faintest outline of each other's forms or 
 features. Some sought to grope their way down the hill, back 
 to the city, some wrestled furiously with opposing groups of 
 persons in their path, others, more timorous, stayed where 
 they were, weeping, shrieking, striking their breasts and re- 
 peating monotonously, " Light, light ! God of our fathers, 
 give us light !"
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLDS TRABEDT 113 
 
 Bufc no answer to their supplications came from the sable 
 pall that solemnly loomed above them, for now not even the 
 lightning threw a chance spear across the clouds, though with 
 incessant, unappeased ferocity, the thunder roared, or rolling to 
 a distance muttered and snarled. A soldier of more self-pos- 
 session and sense than his fellows managed after a little while 
 to strike a light from flint and steel, and as soon as the red 
 spark shone a hundred hands held out to him twigs and branches 
 that they might be set on fire and so create a blazing luminance 
 within the heavy gloom. But scarcely had a branch or two 
 been kindled, when such a shriek went up from those on the 
 edge of the crowd as froze the blood to hear. 
 
 " The faces of the dead !" they cried" The dead are there, 
 there in the darkness ! Shut them out ! Shut them out I 
 They are all dead men I" 
 
 This mad outcry was followed by the screams of women, 
 mingled with hysterical bursts of laughter and weeping, many 
 persons flinging themselves face forward on the ground in veri- 
 table agonies of terror, and the soldier who had struck the 
 light dropped his implements, paralysed and aghast. The 
 kindled branches fell and sputtered out, and again the un- 
 natural midnight reigned, supreme, impermeable. There was 
 no order left ; the soldiery were scattered ; the mob were sepa- 
 rated into lost and wandering sections ; and " Light ! light !" 
 was the universal moan. Truly, in that sepulchral blackness, 
 they were " the lost sheep of the house of Israel," ignorantly 
 and foolishly clamouring for " light !" when the one and only 
 Light of the World was passing through the " Valley of the 
 Shadow," and all Nature in the great name of God, was bound 
 to go with Him ! The atmosphere lost colour, the clouds 
 thundered, earth trembled, the voices of birds and animals 
 were mute, the trees had ceased to whisper their leafy loves 
 and confidences, the streams stopped in their silver-sounding 
 flow, the sun covered its burning face, the winds paused on 
 their swift wings, and only Man asserted, with puny groans 
 and tears, his personal cowardice and cruelty in the presence of 
 the Eternal. But at this awful moment the powers of heaven 
 were deaf to his complaining, and his craven cries for help were 
 vain. Our shuddering planet, stricken with vast awe and 
 wonder to its very centre, felt with its suffering Kedeemer the 
 pangs of dissolution, and voluntarily veiled itself in the deep 
 shadow of death, a shadow that was soon to be lifted and 
 gloriously transformed into light and life immortal \ 
 h 10*
 
 114 BAR ABB AS 
 
 The heavy moments throbbed away, moments that seemed 
 long as hours, and no little gleaming rift broke the settled 
 and deepening blackness over Calvary. Many of the people, 
 giving way to despair, cast themselves down in the dust and 
 wept like querulous children, others huddled themselves to- 
 gether in seated groups, stunned by fright into silence, a few 
 howled and swore continuously, and all the conflicting noises 
 merging together, suggested the wailing of lost beings in spirit- 
 ual torment. All at once the strong voice of the high-priest 
 Caiaphas, hoarse with fear, struck through the gloom. 
 
 " People of Jerusalem !" he cried " Kneel and pray ! Fall 
 down before the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, and 
 entreat Him that this visitation of storm and earthquake be 
 removed from us ! Jehovah hath never deserted His children, 
 nor will He desert them now, though it hath pleased Him to 
 afflict us with the thunders of His wrath ! Be not afraid, O 
 ye chosen people of the Lord, but call upon Him with heart 
 and voice to deliver us from this darkness! For we have 
 brought His indignation upon ourselves, inasmuch as we have 
 suffered the false prophet of Galilee to take His Holy Name 
 in vain, and He doth show us by His lightnings the fiery letter 
 of His just displeasure. And whereas these shadows that en- 
 compass us are filled perchance with evil spirits who come to 
 claim the soul of the boastful and blasphemous Nazarene, I say 
 unto ye all, cover yourselves and pray to the God of your 
 fathers, sons and daughters of Jerusalem, that He may no 
 longer be offended, that He may hear your supplications in 
 the time of trouble, and bring you out of danger into peace !" 
 
 His exhortation, though pronounced in tremulous tones, was 
 heard distinctly, and had the desired effect. With one accord 
 the multitude fell on their knees, and in the thickening shadows 
 that enveloped them began to pray as they were told, some 
 silently, some aloud. Strange it was to hear the divers con- 
 trasting petitions that now went muttering up to the invisible 
 Unknown ; Latin tongues against Hebrew and Greek, ap- 
 peals to Jupiter, Mercury, Diana, and Apollo, mingling with 
 the melancholy chant and murmur of the Jews. 
 
 " Our God, God of our fathers, let our prayer come before 
 Thee ! Hide not Thyself from our supplication 1 We have 
 sinned, we have turned aside from Thy judgments, And it 
 hath profited us naught ! Remember us, God, and be merci- 
 ful ! Consume us not with Thy just displeasure ! Be merci- 
 ful and mindful of us for blessing 1 Save us unto life I By
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 115 
 
 Thy promise of salvation and mercy, Spare us and be gracious 
 unto us, God !" 
 
 And while they stammered out the broken phrases, half in 
 hope, half in fear, the thunder, gathering itself together like 
 an army of war-horses and chariots, for sole reply crashed down 
 upon them in the pitchy darkness with a fulminating ferocity 
 so relentless and awful that the voices of all the people, Jews 
 and aliens alike, died away in one long quavering, helpless 
 human wail. Their prayers sank to affrighted whispers, and 
 the thunder still pelting in angry thuds through the dense air, 
 was as the voice of God pronouncing vast and unimaginable 
 things. 
 
 Meanwhile, as already described, Barabbas had rushed to- 
 wards Judith Iscariot just as the darkness fell, and when the 
 blinding vapours enveloped him he still kept on his course, 
 striking out both arms as he ran that they might come first in 
 contact with the woman he loved. He had calculated his 
 distance well, for presently, his outstretched hands, groping 
 needfully up and down in the sombre murk, touched a head 
 that came to about the level of his knee, then folds of silk, 
 then the outline of a figure that was huddled up on the 
 ground quite motionless. 
 
 " Judith ! Judith !" he whispered " Speak ! Is it thou ?'' 
 
 No answer came. He stooped and felt the crouching form ; 
 here and there he touched jewels, and then he remembered 
 she had worn a dagger at her girdle. Cautiously passing his 
 arms about, he found the toy weapon hanging from the waist 
 of this invisible woman-shape, and realised, with a thrill of 
 comfort, that he was right, it was Judith he touched, but 
 she had evidently fainted from terror. He caught her, clasped 
 her, lifted her up, and supported her against his breast, his 
 heart beating with mingled despair and joy. Chafing her cold 
 hands, he looked desperately into the dense obscurity, wonder- 
 ing whether he could move from the spot without stumbling 
 against one at least of tho>se three terrible crosses which he 
 knew must be very near. For Judith had stood directly be- 
 neath that on which the wondrous " Nazarene" was even now 
 slowly dying, and she would scarcely have had time to move 
 more than a few steps away when the black eclipse had drowned 
 all things from sight. He, Barabbas, might at this moment be 
 within an arm's length of that strange " King" whose crown 
 was of thorns, an awful and awe-inspiring idea that filled him 
 with horror. For, to be near that mysterious Man of Nazareth,
 
 116 BARABBAS 
 
 to know that he might almost touch His pierced and bleed, 
 ing feet, to feel perchance, in the horrid gloom, the sublime 
 and mystic sorrow of His eyes, to hear the parting struggle 
 of His breath, this would be too difficult, too harrowing, too 
 overwhelming for the endurance or fortitude of one who knew 
 himself to be the guilty sinner that should have suffered in the 
 place of the Innocent and Holy. Seeking thus to account to 
 his own mind for the tempestuous emotions which beset him, 
 Barabbas moved cautiously backward, not forward, bearing in 
 his recollection the exact spot in which he had seen Judith 
 standing ere the black mist? fell ; and, clasping her firmly, he 
 retreated inch by inch, till he thought he was far enough re- 
 moved from that superhuman Symbol which made its unseen 
 Presence all-dominant even in the darkness. Then he stopped, 
 touching with gentle fingers the soft scented hair that lay 
 against his breast, while he tried to realise his position. How 
 many a time he would have given his life to have held Judith 
 thus familiarly close to his heart ! but now, now there was 
 something dreary, weird and terrible, in what, under other 
 circumstances, would have been unspeakable rapture. Im- 
 possible, in this black chaos, to see the features or the form of 
 her whom he embraced ; only by touch he knew her ; and a 
 faint chill ran through him as he supported the yielding supple 
 shape of her in his arms, her silken robe, her perfumed hair, 
 the cold contact of the gems about her, these trifles repelled 
 him strangely, and a sense of something sinful oppressed his 
 soul. Sin and he were old friends, they had rioted together 
 through many a tangle of headstrong passion, why should he 
 recoil at Sin's suggestions now ? He could not tell, but so it 
 was ; and his brain swam with a nameless giddy horror, even 
 while he ventured, trembling, to kiss the unseen lips of the 
 creature he had but lately entirely loved, and now partly 
 loathed. 
 
 And, as he kissed her she stirred, her body quivered in 
 his hold, consciousness returned, and in a moment or two she 
 lifted herself upright. Sighing heavily, she murmured like 
 one in a dream 
 
 "Is it thou, Caiaphas?" 
 
 A fierce pang contracted the heart of the unhappy man who 
 loved her, he staggered, and almost let her fall from his em- 
 brace. Then, controlling his voice with an effort, he answered 
 
 Nay, it Is I, Barabbas."
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 117 
 
 " Thou !" and she flung one arm about his neck and held 
 him thus entwined " Thou were ever brave and manful ! 
 save me, my love, save me ! Take me out of this darkness, 
 there must be light in the city, and thou art fearless and 
 skilful enough to find a way down this accursed hill." 
 
 " I cannot, Judith !" he answered, his whole frame trem- 
 bling at the touch of her soft caressing arm, " The world is 
 plunged in an impenetrable night, storm and upheaval threaten 
 the land, the city itself is blotted out from view. The peo- 
 ple are at prayer ; none dare move without danger, there is 
 no help for it but to wait, here where we are, till the light 
 cometh." 
 
 " What, thou art coward after all !" exclaimed Judith, 
 shaking herself free from his clasp " Thou fool ! In the 
 city lamps can be lit and fires kindled, and we be spared some 
 measure of this gloom. If thou wert brave, and more than 
 all, if thou did'st love me, thou would'st arouse thy will, thy 
 strength, thy courage, thou would'st lead me safely through 
 this darkness as only love can lead, but thou art like all men, 
 selfish and afraid !" 
 
 " Afraid ! Judith !" His chest heaved, his limbs quiv- 
 ered. " Thou dost wrong me ! full well thou knowest thou 
 dost wrong me !" 
 
 " Prove it then !" said Judith eagerly, flinging herself 
 against him and putting both arms round his neck confidingly 
 " Lo, I trust thee more than any man ! Lead me from 
 hence, we will move slowly and with care, thou shalt hold 
 me near thy heart, the path is straight adown the hill, the 
 crosses of the criminals are at the summit, as thou knowest, 
 and if we trace the homeward track from hence surely it will 
 be easy to feel the way." 
 
 " What of the multitude ?" said Barabbas " Thou know- 
 est not, Judith, how wildly they are scattered, how in their 
 straying numbers they do obstruct the ground at every turn, 
 and it is as though one walked at the bottom of the sea ac 
 midnight, without the shine of moon or stars." 
 
 " Nevertheless, if thou lovest me, thou wilt lead me," 
 repeated Judith imperatively. "But thou dost not love 
 me !" 
 
 " I do not love thee ! I !" Barabbas paused, then caught 
 the twining arms from about his neck and held them hard. 
 " So well do I love thee, Judith, that, if thou playest me false, 
 I can hate thee 1 ; Tis thou that art of dubious mind in love.
 
 118 BARABBAS 
 
 I have loved only thce; but thou, perchance, eince I was 
 chained in prison, hast loved others. Is it not so ? Speak !" 
 
 For all answer she clung about his neck again and began to 
 weep complainingly. 
 
 " Ah, cruel Barabbas !" she wailed to him between her sobs, 
 " Thou standest here in this darkness, prating of love while 
 death doth threaten us. Lead me away I tell thee, take me 
 homeward, and thou shalt have thy reward. Thou wilt not 
 move from this accursed place which hath been darkened and 
 confused by the evil spells of the Nazarene, thou wilt let me 
 perish here, because thou dost prize thine own life more than 
 mine !" 
 
 " Judith ! Judith !" cried Barabbas in agony " Thou dost 
 break my heart, thou dost torture my soul ! Beware how 
 thou speakest of the dying Prophet of Galilee, for thou 
 did'st taunt Him in His pain, and this darkness fell upon us 
 when thy cruel words were spoken. Come, if thou must 
 come ; but remember there is neither sight nor sense nor order 
 in the scattered multitude through which we must tight our 
 passage, 'twere safer to remain here, together, and pray." 
 
 " I will not pray to God so long as He doth wantonly afflict 
 us !" cried Judith loudly and imperiously " Let Him strike 
 slaves with fear, I am not one to be so commanded ! An' 
 thou wilt not help me I will help myself; I will stay no longer 
 here to be slain by the tempest, when with courage I might 
 reach a place of safety." 
 
 She moved a step away, Barabbas caught her mantle. 
 
 ' ; Be it as thou wilt !" he said, driven to desperation by her 
 words, " Only let me hold thee thus," and he placed one arm 
 firmly round her, " Now measure each pace heedfully, walk 
 warily lest thou stumble over some swooning human creature, 
 and with thy hands feel the air as thou goest, for there are 
 many dangers." 
 
 As he thus yielded to her persuasions, she nestled against 
 him caressingly, and lifted her face to his. In the gloom thoir 
 lips met, and Barabbas, thrilled through every pulse of his 
 being by that voluntary kiss of love, forgot his doubts, his sus- 
 picions, his sorrows, his supernatural forebodings and fears, 
 and moved on with her through the darkness as a lost and 
 doomed lover might move with his soul's ruiu. through the 
 black depths of hell.
 
 DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 SLOWLY and cautiously they groped their way along and 
 for two or three yards met with no obstacle. Judith was tri- 
 umphant, and with every advancing step she took, began to 
 feel more and more secure. 
 
 " Did I not tell thee how it would be ?" she said exultingly, 
 as she clung close to Barabbas, "Danger flies from the 
 brave-hearted, and ere we know it we shall find ourselves at 
 the foot of the hill." 
 
 " And then ?" murmured Barabbas dubiously. 
 
 " Then, doubt not but that we shall discover light and 
 guidance. And I will take thee to my father's house, and tell 
 him thou hast aided in my rescue, and he will remember that 
 thou hast been freed from prison by the people's vote, and he 
 will overlook thy past, and receive thee with honour. Will 
 that not satisfy thee and make thee proud ?" 
 
 He shuddered and sighed heavily. 
 
 " Alas, Judith, honour and I are for ever parted, and I shall 
 never be proud of aught in this world again ! There is a 
 sorrow on my heart too heavy for me to lift, perchance 'tis 
 my love for thee, perchance 'tis the weight of mine own folly 
 and wickedness ; but be the burden what it may, I am stricken 
 by a grief that will not vent itself in words. For 'tis I, 
 Judith, I who should have died to-day, instead of the holy 
 ' Nazarene' 1" 
 
 She gave an exclamation of contempt and laughed. 
 
 " Callest thou him holy ?" she cried derisively " Then thou 
 art mad ! or thou hast a devil 1 A malefactor, a deceiver, a 
 trickster, a blasphemer, and holy !" 
 
 Another liht laugh rippled from her lips, but was quickly 
 muffled, for Barabbas laid his hands upon her mouth. 
 
 " Hush, hush !" he muttered, " Be pitiful ! Some one 
 is weeping, . . . out there in the gloom ! Hush !" 
 
 She struggled with him angrily, and twisted herself out of 
 his hold. 
 
 " What do I care who weeps or laughs ?" she exclaimed, 
 " Why dost thou pause ? Art stricken motionless ?" 
 
 But Barabbas replied not. He was listening to a melaa-
 
 120 BARABBAS 
 
 choly sobbing sound that trembled through tbe darkness, the 
 sorrowing clamour of a woman's breaking beart, and a strange 
 anguish oppressed him. 
 
 "Come!" cried Judith. 
 
 He roused himself with an effort. 
 
 " I can go no further with tbee, Judith," he said sadly, 
 "Something, I know not what, drags me back. I am 
 giddy, faint, I cannot move I" 
 
 "Coward!" she exclaimed "Farewell then! I go on 
 without thee." 
 
 She sprang forward but he caught her robe and detained 
 her. 
 
 " Nay, have patience, wait but a moment" he implored 
 in tones that were hoarse and unsteady " I will force my 
 steps on with thee, even if I die. I have sinned for thy sake 
 in the past it matters little if I sin again. But from my 
 soul I do beseech thee that thou say no more evil of the 
 ' Nazarene' I" 
 
 "What art thou, that thou should'st so command me?" 
 she demanded contemptuously, " And what has the ' Naza- 
 rene' to do with thee, save that he was sentenced to death 
 instead of thou ? Thou weak slave ! Thou, who did'st steal 
 pearls only because I said I loved such trinkets ! oh, worthy 
 Barabbas, to perjure thyself for a woman's whim ! thou, who 
 did'st slay Gabrias because he loved me !" 
 
 " Judith 1" A sudden access of fury heated his blood, 
 and seizing her in both arms roughly he held her as in a vice. 
 " This is no time for folly, and whether this darkness be of 
 heaven or hell, thou darest not swear falsely with death so 
 close about us ! Take heed of me ! for if thou liest I will 
 slay thee! Callest thou me weak? Nay, I am strong, 
 strong to love and strong to hate, and as evil in mind and 
 passion as any man ! I will know the truth of thee, Judith, 
 before I move, or let thee move another inch from hence ! 
 Gabrias loved thee, thou sayest, come, confess, did'st thou 
 in thy turn love Gabrias ?" 
 
 She writhed herself to and fro in his grasp rebelliously. 
 
 "I love no man !" she cried in defiance and anger. "AD 
 men love me ! Am I not the fairest woman in Judaea ? and 
 thou speakest to me of one lover one ! And thou would'st 
 be that one thyself? fool ! What aileth thee? Lo, thou 
 hast me here in thine arms, thou can'st take thy fill of kisses 
 an' thou wilt, I care naught so long as thou dost not linger
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 121 
 
 on this midnight way. I offer thee my lips, I am thy sole 
 companion for a little space, be grateful and content that 
 thou hast so much. Gabrias loved me I tell thee, with 
 passion, yet guardedly, but now there are many greater than 
 he who love me, and who have not his skill to hide their 
 thought" 
 
 "Such as the high-priest Caiaphas!" interrupted Barabbas 
 in choked fierce accents. 
 
 i She gave a little low laugh of triumph and malice com- 
 mingled. 
 
 " Come !" she said, disdaining to refute his suggestion, 
 " Come, and trouble not thyself concerning others, when for 
 this hour at least I am all thine. Rejoice in the advantage 
 this darkness gives thee, lo, I repel thee not ! only come, 
 and waste no more precious time in foolish questioning." 
 
 He loosened his arms abruptly from about her, and stood 
 motionless. 
 
 " Come I" she cried again. 
 
 He gave her no response. 
 
 She rushed at him and clutched him by his mantle, putting 
 up her soft face to his, and showering light kisses on his lips 
 and throat. 
 
 " Barabbas, come !" she clamoured in his ears " Lead me 
 onward ! thou shalt have love enough for many days !" 
 
 He thrust her away from him loathingly. 
 
 " Get thee hence !" he cried, " Fairest woman of Judaea, 
 as thou callest thyself and as thou art, tempt me no more lest 
 in these hellish vapours I murder thee ! Yea, even as I mur- 
 dered Gabrias ! Had I thought his boast of thee was true, 
 he should have lived, and thou should'st have been slain ! 
 Get thee hence, thou ruin of men ! get thee hence, alone ! 
 I will not go with thee ! I tear the love of thee from out my 
 heart, and if I ever suffer thy fair false face to haunt my 
 memory, may Heaven curse my soul ! I take shame upon 
 myself that I did ever love thee, thou evil snare ! deceive 
 others as thou wilt, thou shalt deceive Barabbas no more !" 
 
 Again she laughed, a silvery mocking laugh, and like some 
 soft lithe snake, twined herself fawningly about him. 
 
 " No more ?" she queried in dulcet whispers " Thou wilt 
 not be deceived, thou poor Barabbas? thou wilt hot be 
 caressed? thou wilt no longer be my slave? Alas, thou 
 can'st not help thyself, good fool! I feel thee tremble, I 
 hear thee sigh ! come, come !" and she pulled him per- 
 r 11
 
 122 BARABBAS 
 
 suasively by the arm, " Come ! and perchance thou shalt 
 have a victory thou drearnest not of!" 
 
 For one dizzy moment he half yielded, and suffered himself 
 to be dragged forward a few paces like a man in a dull stupor 
 of fever or delirium, then, the overpowering emotion he had 
 felt before, came upon him with tenfold force, and again he 
 stopped. 
 
 "No!" he exclaimed " No, I will not! I cannot! No 
 more, no more ! I will go no further !" 
 
 " Die then, fool, in thy folly !" she cried, and bounded away 
 from him into the gloom. Hardly had she disappeared, when 
 a monster clap of thunder burst the sky, and a ball of fire fell 
 to earth, hissing its way through the darkness like a breaking 
 bomb. At the same instant with subterranean swirl and rumble 
 the ground yawned asunder in a wide chasm from which arose 
 serpentine twists of fiery vapour and forked tongues of flame. 
 Paralysed with horror, Barabbas stared distractedly at this 
 terrific phenomenon, and as he looked, saw the lately vanished 
 Judith made suddenly visible in a glory of volcanic splendour. 
 Her figure, brilliantly lighted up by the fierce red glow, was 
 on the very edge of the hideous chasm, and appeared to blaze 
 there like a spirit of fire. Had she gone one step further, she 
 would have been engulfed within its depths, as it was she had 
 escaped by a miracle. For one moment Barabbas beheld her 
 thus, a glittering phantom as she seemed, surrounded by dense 
 pyramids of smoke and jets of flame, then, with another 
 underground roar and trembling the ghastly light was quenched 
 and blackness closed in again, impenetrable blackness in which 
 nothing could be seen, and nothing heard save the shrieks and 
 groans of the people. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE panic was now universal and uncontrollable. Crowds 
 of frantic creatures, struggling, screaming, weeping, and fight- 
 ing invisibly with one another, rushed madly up and down in 
 the darkness, flinging themselves forward and backward like the 
 swirling waves of a sea. The murky air resounded with yells 
 and curses, now and then a peal of hideous laughter rang
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 123 
 
 out, and sometimes a piercing scream of pain or terror, while 
 under all these louder and more desperate noises ran the mo- 
 notonous murmuring of prayer. The impression and expecta- 
 tion of renewed disaster burdened the minds of all ; the shud- 
 dering trouble of the earth had terrified the boldest, and many 
 were in momentary dread that the whole hill of Calvary would 
 crumble beneath them and swallow them up in an abyss of fire. 
 Barabbas stood still where Judith had left him, his limbs 
 quivering, and a cold sweat breaking out over all his body, 
 yet he was not so much conscious of fear as of horror, hor- 
 ror and shame of himself and of the whole world. An inef- 
 faceable guilt seemed branded on mankind, though how this 
 conviction was borne in upon him he could not tell. Pres- 
 ently, determining to move, he began to retrace his steps cau- 
 tiously backward, wondering, with a sinking heart, whether 
 Judith had still gone on ? She must have realised her danger ; 
 she would never have proceeded further, knowing of that fright- 
 ful rent in the ground, into which, in her wilful recklessness, 
 she had so nearly plunged. Once he called " Judith !" loudly, 
 but there was no response. 
 
 Stumbling along in doubt and dread, his foot suddenly came 
 in contact with a figure lying prone, and stooping to trace its 
 outline, he touched cold steel. 
 
 " Take heed, whosoe'er thou art," said a smothered voice, 
 " and wound not thyself against my sword-edge. I am Petro- 
 nius." 
 
 " Dost thou find safety here, soldier ?" inquired Barabbas 
 tremulously " Kuowesfc thou where thou art in this dark- 
 
 " I have not moved from hence" replied Petronius ; " I 
 was struck as by a shock from heaven, and I have stayed as I 
 fell. What would it avail me to wander up and down ? More- 
 over, such as I am, die at their post if die they must, and 
 my post is here, close by the Cross of the ' Nazarene.' " 
 
 Barabbas shuddered, and his blood grew cold in his veins. 
 
 " Is He dead ?" he asked in hushed awed accents. 
 
 " Nay, He breathes yet' 1 replied the centurion with equal 
 emotion " And He suffers!" 
 
 Yielding to an overwhelming impulse of passion and pain, 
 Barabbas groped his way on a few steps, and then, halting, 
 stretched out his hands. 
 
 "Where art thou?" he muttered faintly "0 thou who 
 diest in my wretchsd stead, where art thou?"
 
 124 BARABBAS 
 
 He listened, but caught no sound save that of sobbing. 
 
 Keeping his hands extended, he felt the dense air up and 
 down. 
 
 " Who is it that weeps ?" he asked, softening his voice to its 
 gentlest tone " Speak to ine, I beseech thee ! whether man 
 or woman, speak ! for behold I am a sinner and sorrowful as 
 thou 1" 
 
 A long, low gasping sigh quivered through the gloom, a 
 sigh of patient pain ; and Barabbas, knowing instinctively 
 Who it was that thus expressed His human sense of torture, 
 was seized by an agony he could not quell. 
 
 " Where art thou ?" he implored again in indescribable anx- 
 iety " I cannot feel thee, I cannot find thee 1 Darkness 
 covers the world and I am lost within it ! Thy sufferings, 
 Nazarene, exceed all speech, yet, evil man as I am, I swear my 
 heart is ready to break with tbine !" 
 
 And as he thus spoke involuntarily and incoherently, he 
 flung himself on his knees, and scalding tears rushed to his 
 eyes. A trembling hand touched him, a woman's hand. 
 
 " Hush !" whispered a broken voice in the gloom " Thou 
 poor, self-tormented sinner, calm thyself, and pray ! Fear not ; 
 count not up thy transgressions, for were they more numerous 
 than the grains of sand in the desert, thy tears and sorrows 
 here should win thy pardon. Kneel with us, if thou wilt, and 
 watch ; for the end approaches, the shadows are passing, aud 
 light is near." 
 
 " If this bo so," said Barabbas, gently detaining the small 
 hand that touched him " Why dost thou still continue to 
 weep? Who art thou that art so prodigal of tears?" 
 
 " Naught but woman," answered the sweet whispering 
 voice " And as woman I weep, for the great Love's wrong !" 
 
 She withdrew her hand from his clasp, and he remained 
 where he was beside her, quietly kneeling. Conscious of the 
 nearness of the Cross of the " Nazarene" and of those who 
 were grouped about it he felt no longer alone, but the weight 
 of the mysterious sorrow he carried within himself perceptibly 
 increased. It oppressed his heart and bewildered his brain, 
 the darkness seemed to encircle him with an almost palpable 
 density, and he began to consider vaguely that it would be 
 well for him, if he too, might die on Calvary with that mystic 
 " King" whose personality had exercised so great a fascination 
 over him. What had he to live for ? Nothing. He was out- 
 cast through his own wickedness, and as the memory of his
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 125 
 
 sins clouded his mind he grew appalled at the evil in his 
 own nature. His crimes of theft and murder were the result 
 of his blind passion for Judith Iscariot, and this blind 
 passion now seemed to him the worst crime of all. For this 
 his name and honour were gone, for this he had become 
 a monster of iniquity in his own sight. Yet, strange to say, 
 only that very morning, he had not thought himself so vile. 
 Between the hours of his being brought before Pilate, and now, 
 when he knelt in this supernatural darkness before the un- 
 seen dying " Man of Nazareth," an age seemed to have passed, 
 a cycle of time burdened with histories, histories of the 
 soul and secret conscience, which are of more weight in God's 
 countings than the histories of empires. The people had re- 
 leased him, they had hailed him, the liberated thief and mur- 
 derer, with acclamations, true ! but what was all this popu- 
 lar clamour worth when in his own heart he knew himself to 
 be guilty of the utmost worst that could be done to him ? Oh, 
 the horrible horrible burden of recognised sin ! the dragging 
 leaden weight that ties the immortal spirit down to grossness 
 and materialism when it would fain wing its way to the high- 
 est attainment ! the crushing consciousness of being driven 
 back into darkness out of light supernal ! of being thrust 
 away as it were, with loathing, out of the sight and knowledge 
 of the Divine ! This was a part of the anguish of Barabbas, 
 a mental anguish he had never felt till now, and this was 
 why he almost envied his former comrade Hanan for having 
 been elected to die in the companionship of the " Nazarene." 
 All these thoughts of his were purely instinctive ; he could not 
 reason out his emotions, because they were unlike himself and 
 new to him. Nevertheless, if he uttered a prayer at all while 
 kneeling in that solemn gloom, it was for death, not life. 
 
 And now, all suddenly through the heavy murk, a muffled 
 clangour stirred the air, the tolling of great bells and smaller 
 chimes from the city. Swinging and jangling they made them- 
 selves heard distinctly for the first time since the darkness fell 
 over the land, a sign that the atmosphere was growing clearer. 
 They were ringing out the hour of sunset, though no sun was 
 visible. And, as they rang, Barabbas felt that some one near 
 him moved softly among the shadows and stood upright. He 
 strove to discern the outline of that risen shape, and presently, 
 to his intense amazement, saw a pale light begin to radiate 
 through the vapours and gradually weave a faintly luminous 
 halo round the majestic form of a Woman, whose face, divinely 
 11*
 
 126 BARABBAS 
 
 beautiful, supremely sad, shone forth from the darkness like a 
 star, and whose clasped hands were stretched towards the great 
 invisible Cross in an attitude of yearning and prayer. And 
 the bells rang and the light widened, and in two or three mo- 
 ments more, a jagged rift of dusky red opened in the black 
 sky. Broadening slowly, it spread a crimson circle in the 
 heavens immediately behind the summit of the Cross of the 
 " Nazarene" first casting ruddy flashes on the inscribed letters 
 "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews," and then illumining 
 with a flame-like glow the grand thorn-crowned head of the 
 Crucified. Ah, what sublime, unspeakable, mystic agony was 
 written now upon that face Divine ! Horror of the world's sin 
 pity for the world's woe, love for the world's poor creatures, 
 and the passionate God's yearning for the world's pardon and 
 better hope of heaven, all these great selfless thoughts were 
 seen in the indescribably beautiful expression of the pallid 
 features, the upward straining eyes, the quivering, tender 
 lips, and Barabbas staring at the wondrous sight, felt as though 
 his very soul and body must melt and be dissolved in tears for 
 such a kingly Sorrow ! The blood-red cleft in the sky length- 
 ened, and, presently shooting forth arrowy beams as of fire, 
 showed a strange and solemn spectacle. For as far as eye could 
 see in the lurid storm-light, the whole multitude of the people 
 upon Calvary were discovered kneeling before the Cross of 
 Christ ! All faces were turned towards the dying Saviour ; in 
 trouble, in fear and desperation, every human creature there had 
 fallen unknowingly before their only Rescue whose name was 
 Love ! and, as the darkness broke up and parted in long wavy 
 lines, the widening radiance of the heavens revealed what 
 seemed to be a worshipping world ! . . . But only for an 
 inetant, for with the gathering, growing light came the rush 
 of every-day life and movement, the prostrate crowd leaped 
 up with shouts of joy, glad exclamations of relief and laugh- 
 ter, danger was over, death no longer seemed imminent, 
 and as a natural result God was forgotten. The thunder still 
 growled heavily, but its echoes were rolling off into the far 
 distance. And while the people grew more and more animated, 
 scattering themselves in every direction, finding and embracing 
 their friends and narrating their past fears, Barabbas rose also 
 from his knees, wondering, awed and afraid. Directly facing 
 him was the Cross of the " Nazarene," but, beside him was 
 the Magdalen I With her he had knelt in the deep darkness, 
 it must have been her hand that had touched him, it must
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 127 
 
 have been her voice that had so gently soothed him. He 
 trembled ; she was a woman of many sins, yet was she, was 
 she so much worse than, than Judith ? His soul sickened 
 as this comparison crossed his mind ; yet, loathe it as he 
 might, it still forced itself upon his attention. Judith Iscariot, 
 beautiful, imperious, and triumphant in the secrecy of undis- 
 covered sin, Mary Magdalene, beautiful also, but broken- 
 hearted, humbled to the dust of contempt, openly shamed, 
 and penitent. Which of the twain deserved the greater con- 
 demnation ? 
 
 A deep sigh, broke from his lips, a sigh that was almost a 
 groan; an evil man himself, what right had he to judge of 
 evil women 1 Just then the Magdalen raised her tear-wet eyes 
 and looked at him, her luxuriant hair fell about her like a 
 golden veil, her mouth quivered as though she were about to 
 speak, but as she met his sternly meditative gaze, she re- 
 coiled, and hiding her face in the folds of her mantle, dragged 
 herself nearer to the foot of the Cross and crouched there, 
 motionless. And the other woman, she for whom, as Barab- 
 bas imagined, the welcome light had been kindled in the begin- 
 ning, what of her? She no longer stood erect as when the 
 bells had rung, she had fallen once more upon her knees, 
 and her face, too, was hidden. 
 
 Suddenly a voice, pulsating with keenest anguish, yet sweet 
 and resonant, pealed through the air : 
 
 " Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani!" 
 
 "With one accord the moving populace all came to an abrupt 
 halt, and every eye was turned towards the central Cross from 
 whence these thrilling accents rang. Bars of gold were in the 
 sky, and now, the long-vanished sun, red as a world on fire, 
 showed itself in round splendour above the summit of Calvary. 
 
 ".7i, Eli, lama sabacthani!" cried the rich agonised voice 
 again, and the penetrating appeal, piercing aloft, was caught 
 up in the breaking clouds and lost in answering thunder. 
 
 "He calleth for Elias /" exclaimed a man, one of those in 
 the front rank of the crowd that was now pressing itself towards 
 the Cross in morbid curiosity, " Let us see whether JSlias will 
 come to take him down /" 
 
 And he laughed derisively. 
 
 Meanwhile Petronius, the centurion, looked up, and saw 
 that the last great agony of death was on the " Nazarene." 
 Death in the bloom of life, death, when every strong human 
 nerve and sinew and drop of blood most potently rebelled at
 
 128 BARABBAS 
 
 such premature dissolution, death in a torture more hideous 
 than imagination can depict or speech describe, this was the 
 fate that now darkly descended upon divinest Purity, divinest 
 Love ! Terrible shudderings ran through the firm, heroically 
 moulded Man's frame, the beautiful eyes were rolled up and 
 fixed, the lips were parted, and the struggling breath panted 
 forth in short quick gasps. The fiery gold radiance of the 
 heavens spread itself out in wider glory, the sun was sinking 
 rapidly. Moved by an impulse of compassion, Petronius 
 whispered to a soldier standing by, who, obeying his officer's 
 suggestion, dipped a sponge in vinegar and, placing it on a tall 
 reed, lifted it to the lips of the immortal Sufferer, with the 
 intention of moistening the parched tongue and reviving the 
 swooning senses. But there was no sign that He was conscious, 
 and while the soldier still endeavoured to pass the sponge 
 gently over the bleeding brows to cool and comfort the torn 
 and aching flesh, the sleek priest Annas stepped forward from 
 amongst the people and interfered. 
 
 " Let be, let be!" said he suavely and with a meek smile, 
 " Let us see whether Elias will come to save him /" 
 
 The crowd murmured approval, the soldier dropped the 
 reed, and glancing at Petronius, drew back and stood apart. 
 Petronius frowned heavily, and surveyed the portly priest with 
 all a martial Roman's anger and disdain; then he raised his 
 eyes again, sorrowfully and remorsefully, to the tortured figure 
 of the Crucified. Harder aud faster came the panting breath ; 
 and, by some inexplicable instinct all the soldiers and as many 
 of the multitude as could get near, gathered together in solemn 
 silence, and stared up as though fascinated by some mystic 
 spell at the last fierce struggle between that pure Body and 
 divine Spirit. The sun was disappearing, and from its fall- 
 ing disc, huge beams rose up on every side, driving all the 
 black and thunderous clouds in the direction of Jerusalem, 
 where they hung darkening over the city and Solomon's Tem- 
 ple. Suddenly the difficult breathing of the "Nazarene" 
 ceased ; a marvellous luminance fell on the upturned face, 
 the lips that had been parted in gasping agony closed in a 
 dreamy smile of perfect peace, and a flaming golden glory, 
 wing-shaped and splendid, woven as it seemed out of all the 
 varying hues of both storm and sunset, spread itself on either 
 side of the Cross. Upward, to the topmost visible height of 
 heaven, these giant cloud-pinions towered plume-wise, and 
 between them, and behind the dying Christ, the sun, now
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 129 
 
 sunk to a half-circle, glittered like an enormous jewelled mon- 
 strance for the Host in some cathedral of air. In the midst 
 of this ethereal radiance the pale face of the world's Redeemer 
 shone forth, rapt and transfigured by mysterious ecstasy, and 
 His voice, faint, solemn but melodious as music itself, thrilled 
 softly through the light and silence : 
 j, " Father I Into thy hands . . . I commend my Spirit /" 
 
 As the words were uttered, Petronius and the soldier who had 
 proffered the vinegar, exchanged a glance, a rapid glance of 
 mutual suggestion and understanding. With assumed rough- 
 ness and impatience, the soldier raised his spear and deliberately 
 thrust it deep into the side of the dying " Nazarene." A 
 stream of blood gushed out, mingled with water ; and the man 
 whose merciful desire to put an end to torture had thus im- 
 pelled him to pierce the delicate flesh, sprang back, vaguely 
 affrighted at what he had done. For, with the sharp shock 
 of the blow, the thorned-crowned Head drooped suddenly, 
 the eyes that had been turned to heaven now looked down, 
 . . . down, for the last time to earth, . . . and rested upon 
 the watching crowd with such an unspeakable passion of pity, 
 love, and yearning, that all the people were silent, stricken 
 with something like shame as well as awe. Never again in all 
 the centuries to come would such a Love look down upon 
 Humanity ! never again would the erring world receive such 
 a sublime Forgiveness ! such a tender parting Benediction ! 
 The wondrous smile still lingered on the pale lips, a light 
 more glorious than all the sunshine that ever fell on earth, 
 illumined the divinely beautiful features. One last, lingering, 
 compassionate gaze, the clear, searching, consciously supernal 
 gaze of an immortal God bidding farewell for ever to mortality, 
 and then, . . . with an exulting: sweetness and solemnity,, the 
 final words were uttered : 
 
 " It is finished /' ' 
 
 The fair head fell forward heavily on the chest, the tor- 
 tured limbs quivered once . . . twice . . . and then were 
 still. Death had apparently claimed its own, and no sign 
 was given to show that Death itself was mastered. All was 
 over ; God's message had been given, and God's Messenger 
 slain. The law was satisfied with its own justice ! A god 
 could not have died, but He who had been called the " Son, 
 of God" was dead ! It was " finished ;" the winged glory 
 in the skies folded itself up and fled away, and like a torch 
 inverted, the red sun dropped into the night, 
 t
 
 130 BARABBAS 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 A BRIEF pause ensued. The solemn hush that even in a 
 callous crowd invariably attends the actual presence of death 
 reigned unbroken for a while, then one man moved, another 
 spoke, the spell of silence gave way to noise and general ac- 
 tivity, and the people began to disperse hastily, eager to get 
 back safely to their homes before the deepening night entirely 
 closed in. Some compassion was expressed for the women who 
 were crouched at the foot of the " Nazarene's" Cross, but no 
 one went near them, or endeavoured to rouse them from their 
 forlorn attitudes. Barabbas had, unconsciously to himself, re- 
 coiled from the horror of beholding the Divine death-agony, 
 and now stood apart, his eyes fixed on the ground and his tired 
 body quivering in every limb. The populace appeared to have 
 forgotten him, they drifted past him in shoals, talking, laugh- 
 ing, and seemingly no longer seriously oppressed by the recol- 
 lection of the terrifying events of the afternoon. The three 
 crosses stood out black against the darkening sky ; the execu- 
 tioners were beginning to take down the body of Hanan in 
 which a few wretched gasps of life still lingered. Looking 
 from right to left, Barabbas could see no face familiar to him, 
 the high-priest Caiaphas and Annas had disappeared, there 
 was no sign of Judith Iscariot anywhere, and he could not 
 even perceive the striking and quaintly garbed figure of his 
 mysterious acquaintance Melchior. The only person he recog- 
 nised was Petronius the centurion, who was still at his post by 
 the central Cross, and who by his passive attitude and downcast 
 eyes appeared to be absorbed in melancholy meditation. Ba- 
 rabbas approached him, and saw that his rough bearded face 
 was wet with tears. 
 
 "Truly" he muttered beneath his breath as he thrust his 
 sword of office back into its scabbard " Truly this Man was 
 the Son of God!" 
 
 Barabbas caught the words, and stared at him in questioning 
 terror. 
 
 "Thinkest thou so?" he faltered " Then . . . what shall 
 be done to those who have slain Him ?" 
 
 " I know not," answered Petronius, " I am an ignorant
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 131 
 
 fool. But perchance no more ignorant than they who did pre- 
 fer thy life, Barabbas, to the life of the ' Nazarene.' Nay, 
 look not so heavily ! thou art not to blame, 'twas not thy 
 choosing. 'Twas not even the people's choosing 'twas the 
 priests' will ! A curse on priests, say I ! they have worked 
 all the evil in the world from the beginning, blaspheming the 
 names of the Divine to serve their ends. This Crucified Man 
 was against priestcraft, hence His doom. But I tell thee this 
 same ' King of the Jews' as they called Him, was diviner than 
 any of the gods I wot of, and mark me ! we have not seen 
 or heard the last of Him 1" 
 
 He turned away with a kind of fierce impatience and shame 
 of his own emotion, and resumed his duty, that of superintend- 
 ing the taking down of the three crucified bodies from their 
 respective trees of torture. Barabbas sighed, and stood look- 
 ing on, pained and irresolute. The shadows of night darkened 
 swiftly, and the figure of the dead Christ above him seemed 
 strange and spectral, pathetic in its helplessness, yet . . . 
 after all, a beautiful lifeless body, and . . . nothing more I 
 A sense of bitter disappointment stole over him. He now 
 realised that throughout the whole of the terrible tragedy, he 
 had, unconsciously to himself, believed it impossible for the 
 wondrous " Man of Nazareth" to die. The impression had 
 been firmly fixed in his mind, he knew not how, that at the last 
 moment, some miracle would be enacted in the presence of the 
 whole multitude ; that either the Cross itself would refuse to 
 hold its burden, or that some divinely potent messenger from 
 heaven, whose heralds had been the storm and earthquake, 
 would suddenly descend in glory and proclaim the suffering 
 "Prophet" as the true Messiah. Surely if He had been in- 
 deed the " Son of God" as Petronius said, His power would 
 have been thus declared ! To Barabbas the present end of 
 things seemed inadequate. Death was the ordinary fate of 
 men ; he would have had the kingly " Nazarene" escape the 
 common lot. And while he pondered the bewildering problem, 
 half in vexation, half in sorrow, a voice said softly in his ear 
 
 " It is finished !" 
 
 He started, and turned to behold his friend, the mystic Mel- 
 chior, whose dark features were ghastly with a great pallor, but 
 who nevertheless forced a grave and kindly smile as he re- 
 peated, 
 
 "7< is finished ! Did'st thou not also, with all the rest of 
 the world, receive that marvellous assurance? Henceforth
 
 132 BAR ABB AS 
 
 there will bo no true man alive who fears to die ! Come ; we 
 have no more to do here ; our presence is somewhat of a 
 sacrilege. Leave the dead Christ to the tears and lamentations 
 of the women who loved Him. We men have done our part ; 
 we have murdered Him 1" 
 
 He drew Barabbas away despite his expressed reluctance. 
 
 " I tell thee," he said " thou shalt see this Wonder of the 
 Ages again at an hour thou dreamest not of. Meantime, come 
 with me, and hesitate no more to follow out thy destiny." 
 
 "My destiny!" echoed Barabbas "Stranger, thou dost 
 mock me ! If thou hast any mystic power, read my soul and 
 measure its misery. I have no destiny save despair." 
 
 "Despair is a blank prospect," said his companion tranquilly, 
 " Nevertheless because a woman is false and thy soul is weak 
 thou needest not at once make bosom-friends with desperation. 
 Did'st thou discover thy Judith in the darkness ?" 
 
 The sombre eyes of Barabbas flashed with mingled wrath 
 and anguish as he answered 
 
 " Ay, I found her, and, I lost her !" 
 
 " Never was loss so fraught with gain I" said Melchior 
 " I saw her, when the light began to pierce the storm-clouds, 
 hurrying swiftly down the hill citywards." 
 
 " Then she is safe 1" exclaimed Barabbas, unable to conceal 
 the joy he felt at this news. 
 
 " Truly she is, or she should be," responded Melchior ; 
 " She had most excellent saintly protection. The high-priest 
 Caiaphas was with her." 
 
 Barabbas uttered a fierce oath and clenched his fist. Mel- 
 chior observed him attentively. 
 
 " Methinks thou art still in her toils," he said " Untutored 
 savage as thou art, thou can'st not master thy ruffian passions. 
 Nevertheless I will yet have patience with thee." 
 
 11 Thou wilt have patience with me!" muttered Barabbas 
 with irritation, "Thou wilt! Nay, but who art thou, and 
 what hast thou to do with me, now or at any future time ?" 
 
 "What have I to do with thee?" repeated Melchior 
 " Why nothing ! Only this. That being studiously inclined, 
 I make thee an object of my study. Thou art an emblem of 
 thy race in days to come, Barabbas; as I before told thee, 
 thou art as much the symbol of the Israelites as yonder cruci- 
 fied ' Nazarene' is the symbol of a new faith and civilisation. 
 Did I not say to thee a while ago that thou, and not He must 
 be from henceforth ' King of the Jews' ? "
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 133 
 
 "I understand thee not," said Barabbas wearily "Thou 
 wilt ever speak in parables!" 
 
 " 'Tis the custom of the East" answered Melchior com- 
 posedly, " And I will read thee the parable of thyself at some 
 more fitting time. At present the night is close upon us, and 
 there is yet much to be done for the world's wonderment, . . . 
 stay ! whom have we here '?" 
 
 He stopped abruptly, holding Barabbas back by the arm. 
 They had nearly stumbled over the prostrate form of a man 
 who was stretched out on the turf face downward, giving no 
 other sign of life save a convulsive clutching movement of his 
 hands. Melchior bent over him and tried to raise him, but his 
 limbs were so rigidly extended that he appeared to be positively 
 nailed to the ground. 
 
 " He is in some fit, or hath the falling-sickness" said 
 Barabbas, " Or he hath been smitten thus with terror of the 
 earthquake." 
 
 All at once as they still made efforts to lift him, the fallen 
 man turned up a ghastly face and stared at them as though he 
 saw some hideous and appalling vision. Tearing up handfuls 
 of the grass and earth in his restless fingers, he struggled into 
 a kneeling posture, and still surveyed them with so much wild- 
 ness and ferocity that they involuntarily drew back, amazed. 
 
 " What will ye do to me ?" he muttered hoarsely, " What 
 death will ye contrive ? Stretch me on a rack of burning iron, 
 tear my bones one by one from out my flesh, let the 
 poisoned false blood ooze out drop by drop from my veins, 
 do all this and ye shall not punish me as I deserve ! There 
 are no ways of torture left for such an one as I am !" And 
 with a frightful cry he suddenly leaped erect. " Coward, 
 coward, coward !" he shrieked, tossing his arms wildly in the 
 air. (< Coward ! Brand it on the face of heaven ! the only 
 name left to me coward ! False treacherous coward ! Write 
 it on stone, post it up in every city, shout it in the streets 
 tell all the world of me, me, the wretched and accursed 
 man, the follower of the Christ, the faithless servant who 
 denied his Master !" 
 
 With another terrible cry, he again flung himself on the 
 ground and throwing his arms over his head, wept aloud in all 
 the fierce abandonment of a strong man's utter misery. 
 
 Melchior and Barabbas stood beside him, silent. At last 
 Melchior spoke. 
 
 " If thou art Peter" he began. 
 12
 
 134 BARABBAS 
 
 " Oh, that I were not !" cried the unhappy man" Oh, that 
 I were anything in the world, a dog, a stone, a clod of earth, 
 anything but myself! Look you, what is a man worth, who, 
 in the hour of trial, deserts his friend ! And, such a Friend ! 
 a King a God !" Tears choked his voice for a moment's 
 space ; then raising his forlorn head, he looked piteously at his 
 interlocutors. " Ye are strangers to me" he said " Why do 
 ye stand there pitying ? Ye know naught of what has chanced 
 concerning the Man of Nazareth." 
 
 " We know all," replied Melchior with grave gentleness 
 " And for the ' Nazarene,' grieve not, inasmuch as His 
 sorrows are over, He is dead." 
 
 " Ye know naught naught of the truth 1" cried Peter de- 
 spairingly " That He is dead is manifest, for the world is 
 dark as hell without Him 1 Yea, He is dead ; but ye know 
 not how His death was wrought ! I watched Him die ; afar 
 off I stood, always afar off! afraid to approach Him, afraid 
 to seek His pardon, afraid of His Goodness, afraid of my 
 wickedness. Last night He looked at me, looked at me 
 straightly when I spoke a lie. Three times did I falsely swear 
 I never knew Him, and He, He said no word, but only 
 looked and gently smiled. Why, oh, why" moaned the 
 miserable man, breaking into tears again, " why, when I de- 
 nied His friendship did He not slay me ? why did not the 
 earth then open and swallow me in fire ! Nay, there was no 
 quick vengeance taken, only that one look of His, that look 
 of pity and of love ! God, God ! I feel those heavenly 
 eyes upon me now, searching the secrets of my soul !" 
 
 Weeping, he hid his face, his wretchedness was so complete 
 and crushing that the hardest and most unpitying heart in the 
 world would have been moved to compassion for such bitter 
 and remorseful agony. Barabbas, inclined to despise him at 
 first for the confession of his base cowardice, relented some-) 
 what at the sight of so much desperation, and there was at 
 certain touch of tenderness in the austerity of Melchior's 
 manner, as with a few earnest words he persuaded the sorrow- 
 ing disciple to rise and lean upon his arm. 
 
 u What is past is past," he said gravely " Thou can'st 
 never undo, Peter, what thou hast done, and this falsehood 
 of thine must needs be chronicled for all time as a token to 
 prove a truth, the awful truth that often by one act, one 
 word, man makes his destiny. Alas for thee, Peter, that thou 
 too must serve as symbol ! A symbol of error, for on thy
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 135 
 
 one lie, self-serving men will build a fabric of lies in which the 
 Master whom thou hast denied will have no part. I know thy 
 remorse is great as thy sin, yet not even remorse can change 
 the law, for every deed, good or evil, that is done in this 
 world, works out its own inexorable result. Nevertheless thou 
 hast not erred so wickedly as thy fellow, Judas." 
 
 " Nay, but he could die !" cried Peter, turning his wild white 
 face to the dark heavens " Judas could die ! but I, coward . 
 as I am, live on I" 
 
 Barabbas started violently. 
 
 " Die ?" he exclaimed, " What sayest thou ? Judas? Judas 
 Iscariot ? He is not dead ?" 
 
 Peter threw up his arms with a frenzied gesture of despair. 
 
 " Not dead ? not dead ?" he echoed shrilly " If ye do 
 not believe me, come and see 1 Come ! Down by Gethsemane 
 ye will find him, outside the garden, in a dark hollow sloping 
 downward like a grave, under the thickest shadows of the 
 olive-trees and close to the spot where he betrayed the Master. 
 There ye shall behold him !" and his agonised voice sank to a 
 shuddering whisper ; " His body hangs from a gnarled leafless 
 branch like some untimely fruit of hell, some monstrous birth 
 of devils ! the very air seems poisoned by his livid corpse ! 
 Horrible ! . . . horrible ! ... ye know not how he looks, 
 . . . dead, . . . aod swinging from the leafless bough ! He 
 slew himself thus last night rather than face this day, would 
 to God I had done likewise 1 so should I have been even as 
 he, cold, stiff" and free from torturing memory these many 
 hours !" 
 
 Overwhelmed by this new and unexpected horror, Barabbas 
 felt as though the earth were giving way beneath him, he 
 staggered and would have fallen had not Melchior caught him 
 by the arm. 
 
 " Judith !" he gasped hoarsely " Judith ! her brother 
 dead and self-slain ! How will she bear it ! Oh, my God, 
 my God ! who will tell her 1" 
 
 Peter heard the muttered words and gave vent to a bitter 
 cry of misery and fury. 
 
 "Who will tell her!" he shrieked I will! I will con- 
 front the fiend in woman's shape, the mocking, smiling, sweet- 
 voiced, damned devil who lured us on to treachery ! Judith, 
 sayest thou ? Bring me to her, confront me with her, and I 
 will blazon forth the truth ! I will rend heaven asunder with 
 mine accusation 1"
 
 136 BARABBAS 
 
 He shook his clenched hands aloft, and for the moment, his 
 grief-stricken face took upon itself a grandeur and sublimity 
 of wrath that was almost superhuman. 
 
 "Who will tell her?" he repeated "Not only I but the 
 slain Judas himself will tell her ! his fixed and glassy eyes 
 will brand their curse upon her, his stark dead body will lay 
 its weight upon her life, his dumb mouth will utter speechless 
 oracles of vengeance I Accursed be her name forever ! she 
 knew, she knew how weak men are, how blind, how mad, 
 how fooled and frenzied by a woman's beauty, she traded on 
 her brother's tenderness, and with the witchery of her tongue 
 she did beguile even me. Do I excuse mine own great wicked- 
 ness? Nay, for my fault was not of her persuasion, and I am 
 in my own sight viler than any sinner that breathes, but I 
 say she knew, as evil women all do know, the miserable weak- 
 ness of mankind, and knowing it she had no mercy ! 'Tis she 
 hath brought her brother to his death, for 'twas her subtle 
 seeming-true persuasion that did work upon his mind and lead 
 him to betray the Master ! Yea, 'twas even thus ! and I will 
 tell her so ! I will not shrink ! God grant that every word I 
 speak may be as a dagger in her false false heart to stab and 
 torture her for ever 1" 
 
 His features were transfigured by strange fervour, a solemn 
 passion, austere and menacing, glowed in his anguished eyes, 
 and Barabbas, with a wild gesture of entreaty cried aloud, 
 
 " Man, undo thy curse 1 She is but a woman and I loved 
 her!" 
 
 Peter looked at him with a distracted dreary smile. 
 
 " Loved her ! Who art thou that speakest of love in these 
 days of death ? Lo you, there is no love left in all the world, 
 'tis crucified ! Loved her, thou sayest ? Then come and 
 see her work, come ! 'tis a brave testimony of true love ! 
 come !" 
 
 He beckoned them mysteriously, and began to run before 
 them. . . . Melchior stopped him. 
 
 "Where dost thou hasten, Peter?" he said gently, "Thou 
 art distraught with sorrow, whither would'st thou have us 
 follow thee?" 
 
 " To Gethsemane !" replied Peter with a terrible look " To 
 Gethsemane, but not inside the garden ! No no ! for 
 there He, the Elect of God, the Messenger of Heaven, last 
 night prayed alone, and we, we His disciples, did we pray 
 also? Nay we slept!" and he broke into a discordant peal
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 137 
 
 of delirious laughter " We, being men, could find naught 
 better to do than sleep ! More senseless than the clods of 
 earth on which we lay, we slumbered heavily inert, dead to 
 our Master's presence, deaf to His voice ! ' Could ye not 
 watch' said He, with soft patience to us, ' with Me one hour ?' 
 No, not one hour ! it was not in us to forget ourselves in His 
 grief, even for that space of time. We craved for sleep, and 
 took it, we could not sacrifice an hour's comfort for His sake ! 
 Why, all heaven was wakeful ! the very leaves and blades of 
 grass must have found eyes to watch with Him, we, we men 
 only, His friends and followers slept ! Oh, 'twas brave of 
 us 1 'twas passing tender ! Mark ye thus the value of earth's 
 love ! we swore we loved Him, nevertheless we left Him. 
 When the guards came suddenly upon us, we all forsook Him 
 and fled, I only followed Him, but afar off, always afar off I 
 This is what man calls faithfulness !" He paused, trembling 
 violently, then resumed in impatience and agitation u Come ! 
 not inside Gethsemane, for methinks there are angels there, 
 but outside, where Judas waits ! He is patient enough now, 
 he will not move from thence till he is carried, will ye bear 
 him home ? Home to his father's house ! lay him down at 
 his sister's feet while his dead eyes stare beyond all life and 
 time out to interminable doom ! Carry him home and lay him 
 down ! down before her who did wickedly and wantonly work 
 his ruin, and let her weep weep till tears drown every vestige 
 of her beauty, and yet she shall never blot from her accursed 
 life the memory of the evil she hath done !" 
 
 " Oh, thou unpitying soul !" cried Barabbas desperately 
 " What proof hast thou, thou self-convicted false disciple, of 
 Judith's wrong-doing ? How hath she merited thy malediction ? 
 Thou dost rave ! thy words are wild and without reason ! as 
 coward thou did'st deny thy Master, as coward still thou wilt 
 shift blame upon a woman ! How can'st thou judge of her r 
 being thyself admittedly so vile ?" 
 ' Peter looked at him in haggard misery. 
 
 " Vile truly am I" he said " And coward I have pro- 
 claimed myself. But who art thou ? If I mistake not, thou 
 art the people's chosen rescued prisoner, Barabbas is thy 
 name. Wert thou not thief and murderer? Art thou not 
 vile? Art thou not coward? I reproach thee not for thy 
 sins ! Nevertheless I know who roused the baser part of me, 
 for every man hath a baser part, and who did change the 
 faithful Judas to a traitor. 'Twas subtly done, 'twas even 
 12*
 
 138 BARABBAS 
 
 wise in seeming, so cunningly contrived as to appear most 
 truly for the best. Would ye know how ? Then follow me 
 as I bid and I will tell all while my heart is full ; for if God 
 be merciful to me I shall not live long ; and I must speak the 
 truth before I die." 
 
 He was calmer now and his words were more coherent ; 
 Melchior exchanged a meaning look with Barabbas, and they 
 both silently prepared to follow him. As they began to walk 
 forward slowly, a man, tall, and of singularly stately bearing, 
 brushed past them in the darkness, and with a murmured word 
 of apology and salutation pressed on in evident haste. Peter 
 stopped abruptly, looking after him. 
 
 " Yonder goes Joseph of Arimathea" he murmured, strain^ 
 ing his eyes through the evening shadows to watch the swiftly 
 receding figure u A good man and a just. In secret he also 
 was one of the Master's followers. Whither, I wonder, doth 
 he bend his steps so late?" 
 
 He seemed troubled and perplexed ; Melchior touched his 
 arm to recall his wandering thoughts. He started as from a 
 dream and looked round with a vague smile. At that mo- 
 ment the moon rose, and lifting up a silver rim above Calvary, 
 illumined with sudden ghostly radiance the three crosses on the 
 summit of the hill. They were empty. With haggard face 
 and piteous eyes, Peter gazed upward and realised that the 
 body of his Lord was taken down from the cross and no longer 
 visible, and, covering his face in a fold of his mantle, he 
 turned away and walked on slowly, while his companions fol- 
 lowing him in pitying silence heard the sound of smothered 
 bitter weeping. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AT the foot of the hill they stopped. 
 
 To the left a tuft of palm-trees towered, and under their 
 spreading fan-like leaves was a well of clear water, with a 
 rough stone bench beside it. The stars were beginning to 
 sparkle thickly in the sky, and the climbing moon already lit 
 the landscape with almost the clearness of day. 
 
 Peter uncovered his pallid face and looked awfully around 
 him.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 139 
 
 " Here," he said in trembling accents, " here the Master 
 sat three days agone. Here did He discourse of marvels, of 
 the end of this world and of the glory of the world to come, 
 and flashing upon us His eyes full of strange light and fire He 
 said 'Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My words shall 
 not pass away /' Here, only three days agone !" 
 
 He sighed heavily, and moving feebly to the stone bench, 
 sank down upon it, shuddering. 
 
 " Bear with me, sirs, a while" he murmured faintly, 
 " There is a mist before my sight, and I must rest ere I can 
 walk further. Would ye not think ine stricken old ? yet I 
 am young younger by two years than He who died to-day. 
 Yea, we were all in the prime of youth and strength, we who 
 followed Him and we should by very ardour of our blood 
 have had some courage, yet were we as weak and cowardly as 
 though we had been dotards in the depth of age !" 
 
 His two companions said nothing. Barabbas, preoccupied 
 with thoughts too wretched for utterance, sat down wearily on 
 the projecting edge of the well, and btared darkly into the still 
 water where a few stars were glitteringly reflected ; Melchior 
 stood, leaning slightly against one of the tall slim palm-tree 
 stems, his picturesque saffron-hued garments appearing white 
 in the early brilliance of the moon, and his dark features 
 sternly composed and attentive. To him Peter turned his rest- 
 less weary eyes. 
 
 "Thou art of Egypt surely?" he said " Thou hast the 
 manner born of the land where men do chronicle the histories 
 of life and time ?" 
 
 Melchior met his questioning gaze tranquilly. 
 
 " Trouble not thy mind concerning me, thou forlorn disciple 
 of the God !" he answered " Whence I come or whither I go 
 is of no more purport than the tossing hither and thither of a 
 grain of dust or sand. Henceforward let no man set value on 
 himself, since the Divine hath condescended to be humiliated 
 even unto death." 
 
 Peter scrutinised him yet more closely. 
 
 " Wert thou also His disciple ?" he asked. 
 
 " As well inquire of me whether I feel the warmth and see 
 the glory of the sun !" responded Melchior " Those of my 
 race and calling have known of Him these thousand years and 
 waited for His coming. Nevertheless, touching these mysteries 
 they are not for thy nation, Peter, nor for thy time, where- 
 fore I pray thee, if thou desirest to have speech with us on
 
 140 BARABBAS 
 
 any matter, let it be now, and concern not thy mind with the 
 creed of one who is and ever will be a stranger to Judaea." 
 
 He spoke gravely, gently, but with an air that repelled 
 inquisitiveness. 
 
 Peter still kept his eyes fixed musingly upon him, then he 
 gave vent to another troubled sigh. 
 
 " Be it as thou wilt 1" he said " Yet truly thou dost call to 
 mind the tale I have been told of certain kings that came to 
 worship the Lord at Bethlehem, the night that He was born. 
 'Twas a strange history ! and often have I marvelled how they 
 could have known the very day and hour, . . . moreover there 
 were wise men from the East" He broke off, then added 
 hurriedly " Wert thou perchance one of these ?" 
 
 Melchior shook his head slightly, a faint serious smile on his 
 lips. 
 
 " Howbeit," went on Peter with melancholy emotion, " if 
 thou dost ever write of this day, I pray thee write truly. For 
 methiuks the Jews will coin lies to cleanse this day from out 
 the annals of their history." 
 
 " 'Tis thou should'st write, Peter" said Melchior with a 
 keen look, "And in thy chronicle confess thine own great 
 sin." 
 
 " I am no scribe" replied the disciple sorrowfully, " T have 
 never learned the skill of letters. But if I ever wrote, thinkest 
 thou I would omit confession of my frailty ? Nay ! I would 
 blazon it in words of fire !" He paused with a wild look, then 
 resumed more calmly "Sir, this will never be. I am an 
 ignorant man, and have no learning save that which He of 
 Nazareth taught, and which I was ever the last to comprehend. 
 Therefore I say, report my story faithfully and if thou wilt 
 be just say this of the dead Judas, that out of vain-glorious 
 pride and love he did betray his Master, yea, out of love was 
 born the sin, love and not treachery 1" 
 
 Barabbas turned from his dreary contemplation of the deep 
 well-water, and fixed his brooding black eyes upon the speaker, 
 Melchior still maintained his attitude of grave and serene 
 attention. 
 
 " Judith was treacherous" continued Peter " but not so 
 Judas. Beautiful as he was and young, his thoughts aspired 
 to good, his dreams were for the purification of the world, 
 the happiness of all mankind. He loved the Master, ay, 
 with a great and passionate love exceeding; all of ours, and he 
 believed in His Divinity and worshipped Him. He willingly
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 141 
 
 resigned home, country and kindred to follow Him, and now, 
 having sinned against Him, he hath given his life as penalty. 
 Can mortal man do more ? Grod knoweth !" 
 
 He stopped again, his breath came in a short gasping sigh. 
 
 " When we entered Jerusalem a week agone" lie continued 
 slowly, " Judas had been long absent from his father's house, 
 and long estranged from his one sister whom he loved. Ye 
 know the manner of our coming to the city? how the multi- 
 tude rushed forth to meet and greet Jesus of Nazareth, and 
 called Him ' King,' shouting ' Hosannas' and strewing His 
 path with flowers and branches of the palm ? One who watched 
 the crowd pass by said unto me ' Why do ye not check this 
 folly? Think ye the priests will tamely bear the entrance of 
 this Galilean Prophet as a king? Nay verily they will slay 
 him as a traitor 1' And, when I told these words to Judas, he 
 smiled right joyously, saying, ' What need we care for priestly 
 malice ? Truly our Master is a King ! the King of Heaven, 
 the King of earth ! and all the powers of hell itself shall not 
 prevail against Him !' Seeing his faith and love were such, I 
 said no more, though truly my heart misgave me." 
 
 His eyes dwelt on the ground with an unseeing dreary pain. 
 
 " That night, that very night on which we entered Jerusalem, 
 Judas went forth to see his sister. Oft had he spoken of her 
 fairness, of the wonder of her beauty, which, he would swear, 
 was gorgeous as the radiance of roses in the sun. He meant 
 to bring her to the Master's feet, to tell her of His teachings, 
 His miracles, His wondrous tenderness and love for all that 
 were in sickness or in sorrow. Light-hearted as a boy, he left 
 us on this errand, but when he returned to us again, he was 
 no more the same. Sitting apart from us gloomy and absorbed 
 in thought, oft times I saw him gazing at our Lord with a 
 strange grief and yearning in his eyes as though he sought to 
 pierce the depth of some great mystery. The days went on, 
 till two evenings before we shared with our Master the supper 
 of the Passover. Then Judas came to me, and taking me 
 aside, unburdened all his secret mind." 
 
 Here Peter newly smitten by remorse and despair gave an 
 eloquent gesture half of wrath, half of suffering. 
 
 "Heaven be my witness!" he cried " that when I heard 
 his plan I thought it would be well ! I thought that all the 
 world would see we had not worshipped the Divine Man in 
 vaiu 1 Pride in His glory, love for His Name, and ignorance 
 of destiny, these were the sins of Judas Iscariot, but there
 
 142 BAR ABB AS 
 
 was no malice in him, that I swear 1 The wretched youth'* 
 ambition for his Master was his ruin but of us separate twain 
 I was the faithless one ! Judas, even in his fault, was never- 
 theless faithful ! Dost thou hear me, thou silent dreamer out 
 of Egypt ?" and he flashed a wild glance at the quiet Melchior ; 
 " Dost thou hear? Write it if thou wilt on granite tablets in 
 thy mystic land of the moon, for I will have it known ! 
 Judas was faithful, I say ! and he loved the Lord better than 
 any one of us all !" 
 
 " I hear thy words, Peter" said Melchior gently " and I 
 shall remember their purport." 
 
 Calmed by the soft reply, the unhappy disciple recovered in 
 part his self-possession, and went on with the coherent sequence 
 of his narrative. 
 
 " Yea, in all things, Judas was faithful. When he came 
 first to confide in me, he told me that the chief priests and 
 elders of the city were full of wrath and fear at the sway our 
 Master had obtained over the minds of the people, and that 
 they sought some excuse to kill Him. ' Then let us away,' 
 said I. ' Let us return unto the mountains, and the shores of 
 Galilee, where our beloved Lord can teach His followers, un- 
 molested, and at liberty.' ' Nay !' returned Judas in a voice 
 of triumph ' Knowest thou not that if His words be true, our 
 Lord can never die? Wherefore, why should we be driven 
 from the city as though we were affrighted concerning His 
 safety ? Hear first what my sister Judith saith.' And I did 
 hear." 
 
 Barabbas looked up, his eyes gleaming with anxiety and 
 foreboding. Peter met his gaze mournfully. 
 
 " She Judith so I learned, had welcomed her errant 
 brother with such tenderness as moved his heart. She re- 
 proached him not at all, but listened with a patient interest to 
 the story of his wanderings. Then she most gently said she 
 doubted not the truth of the Divinity dwelling within the 
 famous ' Nazarene,' but surely, she argued, it were not un- 
 reasonable to ask that such Divinity be proved? Whereat 
 Judas, troubled in spirit, replied ' Verily it hath been proved 
 oftentimes by many marvellous miracles. 1 Not in Jerusalem, 
 not to the priests and rulers' answered Judith. ' For they 
 believe nothing of thy Prophet of Galilee, save that He is a 
 false blasphemer, a malcontent and traitor. Nevertheless if He 
 be of supreme omnipotence as thou dost say. Judas, 'tis thou 
 oan'st make Him seize at once the mastery of the world, and
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 143 
 
 thus how grandly thou wilt prove thy love !' Judas, entranced 
 at the boldness of this thought, bade her tell him how such 
 glory for his Lord might speedily be won. ' Never was task 
 more easy' she replied ' Resign Him to the law, betray 
 Him to the priests ! Then will He avow His godhead with all 
 the majesty of Heaven! We shall acclaim Him as the true 
 Messiah, and not we alone, but every nation of the earth 
 must worship Him ! For bethink thee, dearest brother, if Ha 
 be indeed Divine, He cannot be slain by any earthly foe/ 
 [This," continued Peter, " is what Judas told me of his sister 'a 
 word. And, at the time, it seemed both wise and just. For 
 why should our great Lord suffer poverty and pain when em- 
 pires could be His ? Why should He wander homeless through 
 the world, when all the palaces of earth should open to His 
 coming? So Judas thought, and I thought with him, for 
 the Master being in all things glorious, we saw no wrong in 
 striving to make His glory manifest." 
 
 " Nature's symbols are hard to read, Peter," said Melchior 
 suddenly " And of a truth thou can'st not comprehend their 
 mystic lettering! What glory has ever yet been rendered 
 ' manifest' except through suffering ? How could'st thou think 
 to fit the tawdry splendours of earthly kingdoms to the em- 
 bodied Spirit of the Divine? What throned and jewelled 
 potentate hath ever lifted from the world a portion of its weight 
 of sin ? What name applauded by the people, hath ever yet 
 bestowed salvation on a living soul ? Lo, the very prophets of 
 thy race have prophesied to thee in vain, and to thy scared 
 wits the oldest oracles lack meaning ! Did not thy Master tell 
 thee of His fate, and could'st thou not believe even Him?" 
 
 Peter grew very pale, and his head drooped on his breast. 
 
 " Yea, He did tell me" he answered sorrowfully " And I 
 rebuked Him ! I ! I said ' This shall not be.' And with 
 ; all the wrath of a wronged King He turned upon me saying 
 ' Get thee behind Me, Satan I for thou savoiirest not the 
 things that be of God, but the things that be of men.' And 
 I fell back from Him affrighted, and was sore at heart all 
 day!" 
 
 Melchior left his position by the palm-tree, and advancing, 
 laid one hand on the disciple's arm. 
 
 " And thou could'st not realise, weak soul, these ' things that 
 be of God' ?" he queried gravely " Thou could'st not detach 
 thy thoughts from earth? earth's paltry power and foolish 
 flaunting ostentation ? Alas for thee and those that take thee
 
 144 BARABBAS 
 
 for a guide ! for verily this fatal clinging of thy soul to things 
 temporal shall warp thy way for ever and taiut thy mis- 
 sion !" 
 
 Peter rose from his seat gazing at the speaker in wonder and 
 dread. The moonlight fell on both their faces ; Melchior's 
 was calm, stern and resolved, Peter's expressed the deepest 
 agitation. 
 
 " In God's name who art thou ?" he asked apprehensively^- 
 *' By whose authority dost thou prophesy concerning me ?" 
 
 Melchior answered not. 
 
 " None shall take me for guide !" went on Peter more ex- 
 citedly " For do I not confess myself a faulty man and spirit- 
 less? Moreover I am subject to temptations" and he shud- 
 dered "temptations many and grievous. Lo, the Master 
 knew this of me, for last night only last night He said unto 
 me ' Simon, Simon, Satan hath desired to have thee that he 
 may sift thee even as wheat. But 1 have prayed for thee that 
 thy faith fail not 1 " 
 
 " And neither shall it fail !" interrupted Melchior solemnly 
 " By faith alone the fabric raised upon thy name shall live 1 
 Nevertheless thy cowardice and fears shall live on also, and thy 
 lie shall be the seed from whence shall grow harvests of error ! 
 The law of compensation weighs on thee even as on every man, 
 and thy one negation, Petrus, shall be the cause of many !" 
 
 Peter looked at the dark inscrutable countenance that con- 
 fronted him, and lifted his hands as though to ward off some 
 menacing destiny. He trembled violently. 
 
 " Strange prophet, thou dost fill my soul with terrors !" he 
 faltered " What have I to do with those that shall come after 
 me ? Surely when these days are remembered, so will my sin 
 be known and evermore accursed, and who would raise a 
 fabric, as thou sayest, on the memory of a lie ? Nay, nay ! 
 prophesy if thou wilt, good or evil, an' thou must needs pro-j 
 phesy but not here not in this place where the Master sat- 
 BO lately. It is as though He heard us there is something of 
 His presence in the air !" 
 
 He cast a timorous glance up and down, and then began to 
 walk forward feebly yet hurriedly. They all three paced along 
 the moonlit road, Barabbas casting many a dubious side-look 
 at the worn and troubled face of the disciple. 
 
 "Strange that this man could have denied his Master!" he 
 thought with passionate scorn " And I, base sinner as I am. 
 having but seen that Master once, would willingly have died
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 145 
 
 for Him had it been possible ! If all His followers are of such 
 coward stuff as this, surely the history of this day, if left to 
 them, will be but a perverted chronicle !" 
 
 Meanwhile, after a heavy pause, Peter resumed his inter- 
 rupted narrative. 
 
 " When Judas told me of his sister's words, methought I 
 saw new light break in upon our lives. The world would be a 
 paradise, all men would be united in love and brotherhood if 
 once the God on earth were openly revealed. Yet out of fear 
 I hesitated to pronounce a judgment; and seeing this, Judas 
 persuaded me to go with him to Judith and hear her speak 
 upon the matter. So, ho said, I should be better skilled to 
 reason without haste or prejudice." 
 
 Here he threw up his hands with a wild gesture. 
 
 " Would I had never seen her !" he cried " In what a fair 
 disguise the fiend did come to tempt my soul ! I took her for 
 an angel of good counsel ! her beauty, her mild voice, her sweet 
 persuasions, her seeming-wise suggestions, oh, they made havoc 
 of my better thoughts ! She stood before us in her father's 
 garden, clothed softly in pure white, a very spirit of gentleness 
 and quietude, speaking full soberly and with most excellent 
 justice as I deemed. ' Truly I doubt not that this Lord of 
 thine is very God,' she said ' Nevertheless as the rulers of the 
 city believe Him naught but human perjurer and traitor, ye 
 who love Him should compel Him to declare His glory. For 
 if He be not, as He saith, Divine, ye do wrong to follow a 
 deceiver. Surely this thing is plain ? If He be God, we all 
 will worship Him ; if He be man only, why then ye are but 
 blindly led astray and made as fools by trickery.' Thus did 
 she speak, and I believed her, her words seemed full of truth 
 and justice, she was right, I said, our Master was Divine, 
 and He should prove it 1 Smiling, she bowed her head and 
 left us, and Judas, turning on me cried ' Now, Simon 
 Peter, what thinkest thou ?' And I, answering said, ' Do as 
 it seemeth well unto thee, Judas ! Our Lord is Lord of the 
 whole heaven and earth, and none can injure Him or take away 
 His glory !' " 
 
 Pausing again he looked upward with a sad wild anguish, 
 the pale moonbeams falling coldly on his tear-worn rugged 
 countenance. 
 
 " What counsel could I give !" he exclaimed, as though he 
 were defending himself to some unseen listener in the starry 
 ekies " What did I know ? I had no key to heaven's mys- 
 a k 13
 
 146 BARABBAS 
 
 teries ! A poor unlearned fisherman, casting my nets by Gal. 
 ilee was I, when He, the Marvellous One, came suddenly upon 
 me, and with a lightning-glance of power said 'Follow Me /' 
 Andrew, my brother, was with me, and he will testify of this, 
 that we were ignorant and stricken by poverty, and all we 
 knew and felt was, that this Jesus of Nazareth must be obeyed, 
 that we were bound by some mysterious influence to follow 
 where He led, that home and kindred were as nought to us, 
 compared with one smile, one searching look from Him ! In 
 beauty, in majesty, in high command a very King He seemed ; 
 why, why should not the world have known it 1 It seemed 
 but natural, it seemed but just, and last night, when Judas 
 rose from supper and went out, I knew whither he had gone ! 
 I knew I knew!" He shuddered and groaned, then with 
 a savage gesture cried " A curse on woman ! Through her 
 came sin and death ! through her is hell created ! through 
 her is now betrayed the Holy One of God ! Accursed may 
 she be for ever ! and cursed be all men who love her perish- 
 able beauty, and trust her treacherous soul I" 
 
 His white face became contorted with fury ; Melchior sur- 
 veyed him with calm compassion. 
 
 " Thy curses are in vain, Petrus," he said " They do but 
 sound on deaf and empty air. He who curses woman or de- 
 spises her, must henceforth be himself despised and accursed. 
 For now by woman's purity is the whole world redeemed, 
 by woman's tenderness and patience the cords of everlasting 
 love are tied between this earth and highest heaven ! Truly 
 the language of symbols is hid from thee, if thou can'st curse 
 woman, remembering that of woman thy Master was born into 
 the world ! Were there a million treacherous women meriting 
 thy curse, it matters little, for from henceforward Womanhood 
 is rendered sacred in the sight of the Eternal, through Her 
 whom now we call the Mother of the ' Nazarene' !" 
 
 He paused, then added, " Moreover thou can'st not fasten 
 the betrayal of thy Lord on Judith Iscariot. Partly she was 
 to blame, yet she was but a tool in the hands of the true 
 arch-traitor. If ye would track treachery home to its very 
 source, search for it where it hath its chief abiding-place, in 
 the dens of priestcraft and tyranny, among the seeming holy, 
 the seeming sanctified, they with whom lies are part of sacred 
 office!" 
 
 Barabbas started. 
 
 "'Twaa Caiaphas!" he cried excitedly " Tell me such
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 147 
 
 news will be some comfort to my soul 'twas Caiaphas who 
 first did scheme this murder of the Christ ?" 
 
 Melchior looked at him steadily. 
 
 "Even so" he said " 'Twas Caiaphas. What would'st 
 thou ? 'Tis ever and 'twill ever be a self-professing Priest of 
 the Divine who crucifies Divinity 1" 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL^. 
 
 As he spoko a faint wind stirred the shrubs and trees on 
 either side of the road like an assenting sigh from some wan- 
 dering spirit. The disciple Peter stared upon him in troubled 
 and vague amazement. 
 
 " How could it be Caiaphas ?" he asked " True it is that 
 Judas went to Caiaphas, but not till he had himself resolved 
 upon the deed he meant to do." 
 
 " Thou knowest not each private detail of this history, 
 Petrus" answered Melchior, " And as thou knowest not all, 
 neither will they who come after thee ever know. Hast thou 
 not heard of love existing between man and woman, or if not 
 love, a passion passing by that name, which hath made many 
 strange annals in history ? Even such passion has there been 
 'twixt haughty Caiaphas and wanton Judith, nay, thou mis- 
 guided Barabbas, wince not nor groan 'tis true ! To her the 
 sensual priest confided all his plan ; he trained her in the part 
 she had to play, by his command and in his very words she 
 did persuade and tempt her credulous brother, yea, even with 
 a seeming excellent purpose in the work, to bring back Judas 
 to his home and the religion of his fathers. Moreover for her 
 ready help and willingness she did receive much gold from 
 Caiaphas, and jewels and soft raiment, things that such women 
 love far more than virtue. ' Trap me the Nazarene, fair 
 Judith,' he said, ' with such discretion and wise subtilty that 
 it shall seem not my work, but thy brother's act of conscience 
 and repentance to his faith and people, and I will give thee 
 whatsoever most thy heart desires.' And well did she obey 
 him, as why should she not ? seeing he long hath been her 
 lover." 
 
 Barabbas shrank back trembling. Every instinct in him
 
 143 B ARABS AS 
 
 told him it was the truth he heard, yet he could not bear to 
 have it thus pitilessly thrust upon him. Meanwhile the un- 
 happy Simon Peter wrung his hands together in despera- 
 tion. 
 
 " Nay, who could guess so deep and dastardly a plot 1" he 
 cried " And if thou knewest it, thou fateful stranger, and 
 wert in Jerusalem, why not have given us warning?" 
 
 "Of what profit would have been my words?" demanded 
 Melchior with sudden scorn " Ye would not believe the say- 
 ings of your Master, how then should yc believe me ? Ye 
 were and are, the very emblems of mankind, self-seeking, doubt- 
 ing and timorous, and gloze it over as ye will, ye were all un- 
 faithful and afraid ! As for me, 'tis not my creed to strive 
 and turn the course of destiny. I say the priests have killed 
 the Christ, and the great murder is not yet finished. For they 
 will kill him spiritually a million times again ere earth shall 
 fully comprehend the glory of His message ! Ay ! through 
 the vista of a thousand coming years and more I see His silent 
 patient Figure stretched upon the Cross, and ever the priests 
 surround Him, driving in the nails !" He paused, and his 
 dark eyes flashed with a strange fierce passion, then he con- 
 tinued quietly " 'Tis so ordained. Lo, yonder are the shad- 
 ows of Gethsemane, if thou hast aught of import more to 
 say of Judas, it were well to speak it here and now ere 
 we go further." 
 
 Instinctively he lowered his voice, and with equal instinct- 
 iveness, all three men drew closer together, the moonlight 
 casting lengthened reflections of their draped figures on a 
 smooth piece of sun-dried turf which sloped in undulating 
 lines down towards a thicket of olive-trees glimmering silver- 
 grey in the near distance. Peter trembled as with icy cold 
 and looked timorously backward over his shoulder with the 
 manner of one who expects to see some awful presence close 
 behind him. 
 
 " Yea, out of justice to the dead, out of pure justice" 
 he muttered faintly " ye should know all of Judas that my 
 faltering tongue can tell. For of a truth his end is horrible ! 
 'Twas a brave youth, comely and bold, and warm and passion- 
 ate, and to die thus alone down there in the darkness I" ... 
 Clenching his fists hard, he tried to control his nervous shud- 
 dering, and went on, speaking in low troubled tones, " I said 
 he went to Caiaphas. This was two nights before our last 
 supper with the Lord. He told me all. Caiaphas feigned both
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 149 
 
 anger and indifference. ' We have no fear of thy mad fanatic 
 out of Galilee' he said ' but if thy conscience do reproach 
 thee, Judas, as well it may, for thy desertion of the law and 
 *,he faith of thine own people, we will not discourage or reject 
 thy service. Yet think not thou can'st arrogantly place the 
 Sanhedrim under any personal obligation for thine offered aid, 
 the priests elect may take no favours from one who hath 
 perversely deserted the holy rites of God, and hath forsaken 
 'the following of his fathers. Understand well, we cannot owe 
 thee gratitude, for thou hast severed thyself wilfully from us 
 and hast despised our high authority. Wherefore if now thou 
 art prepared to render up the Man of Galilee, name thine own 
 payment.' Now Judas had no thought of this, and being 
 sorely grieved, refused, and went away, stricken at heart. And 
 to his sister he declared all, and said ' I will not sell the Lord 
 into His glory for base coin.' But she made light of the mat- 
 ter and mocked at his scruples. ' Thou silly soul, thou dost not 
 sell thy Lord !' she said ' Thou dost merely enter into a legal 
 form of contract, which concerns thee little. 'Tis the Phari- 
 saical rule of honour not to accept unpaid service from one 
 who doth openly reject the faith. Take what they offer thee, 
 can'st thou not use it for the sick and poor? Remember thou 
 art serving thy Master, thou dost not 'sell' or otherwise 
 betray Him. Thy work prepares Him to avow His glory ! 
 think what a marvel thou wilt thus reveal to all the world ! 
 Hesitate not therefore for a mere scribe's formula.' Then 
 Judas, thus persuaded, went again to Caiaphas saying ' Truly 
 ye have your laws with which I have naught in common, yet if 
 it must be so, what will ye give me if I betray Him unto you f 
 And straightway they counted from the treasury thirty pieces 
 of silver, which Judas took unwillingly. Alas, alas 1 If he 
 had only known ! Surely this very money was as a blind for 
 Caiaphas, a seeming legal proof that he was innocent of 
 treachery, but that in custom of the law, he paid the volun- 
 tary, selt'-convicted traitor. Who could excuse Caiaphas of 
 cruelty ? of malice ? of iutent to murder ? Caiaphas was 
 not paid ! All things conspired to fix the blame on Judas, 
 to make him bear alone that awful weight of crime, which 
 heavier than all burdens of despair hath sunk him now within 
 the depths of hell." 
 
 He pressed his hands upon his forehead for a moment and 
 was silent. Barabbas watched him gloomily, absorbed in his 
 every gesture, his every word, Melchior's eyes were cast down, 
 13*
 
 150 BARABBAS 
 
 and a stern expression shadowed his features, notwithstanding 
 that every incident of the story seemed known to him. 
 
 "The end came quickly" proceeded the disciple, after a 
 sorrowful pause "All the misery and fury and despair fell 
 upon us in one blow. The haste and anger of the law swept 
 down upon us like a storm which we had neither force nor 
 valour to resist. At the entrance to the garden of Gethsemane, 
 Judas waited, with glare of torches and armed men, and as / 
 the Lord came forth from out of the shadows of the trees, he 
 went to meet Him. Pale with expected triumph, love and 
 fear, he cried ' Hail, Master /' and kissed Him. And such a 
 silence fell upon us all, that methought the very earth had 
 stopped its course, and that all the stars were listening. Now, 
 thought I, will the glory of the God expand ! and even as we 
 saw Him transfigured on the mountain, so will He shine in 
 splendour, mighty and terrible, and overwhelm His enemies as 
 with fire I But He, the Master, changed not in aught nor 
 spoke ; in stillness and in patience He fixed His eyes on Judas 
 for a while then in low tones He said ' Friend, wherefore 
 art thou come ? Betrayest thou the Son of Man with a ki'ss ?' 
 And Judas with a cry of anguish, fell back from Him 
 affrighted, and clutched at my garments, whispering ' Surely 
 I have sinned ! or else He hath deceived us !' Meanwhile 
 the armed guards stood mute as slaves, not offering to touch 
 the Lord, till He addressing them, said ' Whom seek ye ?' 
 Then they, abashed, did answer ' Jesus of Nazareth.' 
 Whereupon the Master looked upon them straightly, saying 
 * / am He. 1 Then, as though smitten by thunder at these 
 words, they went backward and fell to the ground. And I, 
 foolishly, thought the hour we waited for had come, for never 
 did such splendour, such dignity and power appear in mortal 
 frame as at that moment glorified our Lord ! Again He spoke 
 unto the guard, saying ' Whom seek ye T And again they 
 answered trembling 'Jesus of Nazareth. 1 Then said He 
 tranquilly ' / have told ye that I am He. If therefore ye 
 teek Me, let these go their way? And turning upon us slowly 
 He waved His hand in parting, a kingly sign of proud and 
 calm dismissal. Staring upon Him, as though He were a 
 vision, we retreated from His path, while He did royally 
 advance and render Himself up to those who sought Him. 
 And these, in part recovered from their fear, laid hold on Him 
 and led Him away. We, we, His disciples gazed after Him 
 a while, then gazing on each other, raved and wept. De-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDF 151 
 
 eeived ! Deceived !' we cried ' He is not God but man !' 
 And then we fled, each on our separate ways, and only I, 
 moved by desire to see the end, followed the Master afar off, 
 even unto the very house of Caiaphas." 
 
 Here Peter stopped, overcome by agitation. Tears sprung 
 to his eyes and choked his voice, but presently mastering him- 
 self with an effort he said hoarsely, and in ashamed accents, 
 
 " There I did deny him ! I confess it, I denied Him. 
 When the chattering slaves and servants of the high-priest 
 declared I was His disciple, I swore, and said ' I know not the 
 man !' And after all 'twas true, 'twas true ! I knew not 
 the 'man,' for I had known, or thought that I had known, 
 the God !" 
 
 Melchior raised his piercing dark eyes and studied him 
 closely. 
 
 " Thus dost thou play the sophist I" he said with chill dis- 
 dain " Thus wilt thou bandy reasons and excuses for thine 
 own sins and follies I Weak, cowardly, and moved by the 
 desire of temporal shows, thou wilt invent pardon for thine 
 own blindness thus for ever ! Thou art the perfect emblem 
 of thy future fame ! If thou had'st truly known the God, 
 thou could' st not have denied Him, but if thou wilt speak 
 truth, Petrus, thou never hast believed in Him, save as a 
 possible earthly King, who might in time possess Jerusalem. 
 To that hope thou did'st cling, and of things heavenly thou 
 had'st no comprehension. To possess the earth has ever been 
 thy dream, maybe thou wilt possess it, thou and thy followers 
 after thee, but Heaven is far distant from thy ken !" Peter's 
 face flushed, and his eyes glittered with something like anger. 
 
 " Thou dost judge me harshly, stranger" he said. " Never- 
 theless perchance thou hast some justice in thy words. Yet 
 surely 'tis not unnatural to look for glory from what is glori- 
 ous? If God be God, why should He not declare Himself? 
 if He be ruler of the earth why should not His way be abso- 
 lute and visible?" 
 
 " Ha doth declare Himself His way is absolute and visi- 
 ble !" said Melchior, u But thou art not His medium, Petrus ! 
 nor doth He stoop from highest Heaven to learn earth's laws 
 from thee." 
 
 Peter was silent. Barabbaa now looked at him with renewed 
 curiosity, he was beginning to find out the singular and com- 
 plex character of the man. Cowardice and dignity, terror and 
 anger, remorse and pride all struggled together in his nature,
 
 152 BARABBAS 
 
 and even the untutored Barabbas could see that from thig 
 timorous disciple anything in the way of shiftiness or subter- 
 fuge might be expected, since he was capable of accusing and 
 excusing himself of sin at one and the same time. 
 
 " Say what thou wilt" he resumed, with a touch of defiance 
 in his manner " 'twas the chagrin and the bitter disappoint- 
 ment of my soul that caused me to deny the ' Man.' I was 
 aflame with eagerness to hail the God ! 'twould have been 
 easy for Him to declare His majesty, and yet, before the min- 
 ions of the law He held His peace ! His silence and His 
 patience maddened me ! and when He passed out with the 
 guard and looked at me, I wept, not only for my own base- 
 ness, but for sheer wretchedness at His refusal to reveal Him- 
 self to men. Meanwhile, as He was led away to Pontius 
 Pilate, Judas, furious with despair, rushed into the presence 
 of Caiaphas, and there before him and other of the priests and 
 elders cried aloud ' / have sinned, in that I have betrayed 
 the innocent blood! 1 And they, jeering at him, laughed 
 among themselves, and answered him saying ' What is that 
 to us ? See thou to that /' Whereat he flung down all the 
 silver they had given him on the floor before them and de- 
 parted, and as he ran from out the palace like a man dis- 
 traught, I met and stopped him. 'Judas, Judas, whither 
 goest thou ?' I cried. He beat me off. ' Home ! Home !' 
 he shrieked at me ' Home to her ! to the one sister whom 
 I loved, who did persuade my soul to this night's treachery 1 
 Let me pass ! for I must curse her ere I die ! her spirit 
 needs must follow mine to yonder beckoning Doom !' And 
 with a frightful force he tore himself from out my grasp, and 
 like a drifting phantom on the wind, was gone !" 
 
 Here Peter raised his hands with an eloquent gesture, as 
 though he again saw the vanishing form of the despairing 
 man. 
 
 " All through last night," he continued in hushed accents 
 " I sought for him in vain. Round and about Iscariot's house 
 I wandered aimlessly, I saw none of whom I dared ask news 
 of him, the fatal garden where together we had speech with 
 Judith, was silent and deserted. Through many streets of the 
 city, and along the road to Bethany I paced wearily, until at 
 last, some fateful spirit turned my steps towards Gethsemane. 
 And there, there at last I found him 1" 
 
 He paused, then suddenly began to walk rapidly. 
 
 " Come !" he said looking backward at Melchior and Barab-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 153 
 
 bas " Come ! The night advances, and he hath passed 
 already many lonely hours ! And not long since the Master 
 said ' Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay 
 down his life for his friends.' Verily Judas hath laid down 
 his life and look you, to die thus in the full prime of youth, 
 strangled even as a dog that hath run wild, is horrible ! will't 
 not suffice ? 'Twere hard that Judas should be evermore ac- 
 cursed, seeing that for his folly he hath paid the utmost penalty, 
 and is, by his own hand, dead !" 
 
 " And thou livest !" said Melchior with a cold smile " Thou 
 sayest well, Petrus ; 'twere hard that Judas should be ever- 
 more accursed and thou adjudged a true apostle ! Yet such 
 things happen for the world loves contraries and falsifications 
 of history, and while perchance it takes a month to spread a 
 lie, it takes a hundred centuries to prove a truth !" 
 
 Peter answered not he was pressing on with increasing 
 speed and agitation. All at once he halted, the road made 
 an abrupt slope towards a mass of dense foliage faintly grey in 
 the light of the moon. 
 
 " Hush ! hush !" he whispered " He is dead, but there 
 is a strange expression in his eyes, he looks as if he heard. 
 One cannot tell, the dead my hear for all we know ! Tread 
 gently, yonder is the garden of Gethsernane, but he is not 
 within it. He stays outside, almost upon the very spot 
 where he did give the Master up to death, meaning to give 
 Him glory ! Come ! we will persuade him to depart with us, 
 betwixt us three he shall be gently carried home, perchance 
 his sister Judith marvels at his absence, and waits for his 
 return 1 How she will smile upon him when she sees the 
 manner of his coming I" 
 
 And he began to walk forward on tiptoe. Barabbas grew 
 deadly .pale and caught Melchior by the arm. The rugged 
 figure of the disciple went on before them like a dark flutter- 
 ing shadow, and presently turned aside from the road towards 
 a turfy hollow where a group of ancient olive-trees stretched 
 out their gaunt black branches like spectral arms uplifted to 
 warn intruders back. Pausing at this gloomily frondaged 
 portal, Peter beckoned his companions with a solemn gesture, 
 then, stooping under the boughs he passed and disappeared. 
 Hushing their footsteps and rendered silent by the sense of 
 awe, Melchior and Barabbas followed. The hanging foliage 
 drooped over them heavily, and seemed to draw them in and 
 close them out of sight, and although there was scarcely any
 
 154 BARABBAS 
 
 wind to move the air, the thick leaves rustled mysteriously 
 like ghostly voices whispering of some awful secret known to 
 them alone the secret of a tortured soul's remorse, the in- 
 describable horror of a sinner's death, self-sought iu the deeper 
 silence of their sylvan shadows. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MEANWHILE, the city of Jerusalem was pleasantly astir. 
 Lights twinkled from the windows of every house, and from 
 many an open door and flower-filled garden came the sounds 
 of music and dancing. Those who had been well-nigh dead 
 with fear at the earthquake and the unnatural darkness of the 
 day, were now rejoicing at the safety of themselves and their 
 relations. No more cause for apprehension remained ; the 
 night was cloudlessly beautiful, and brilliant with the tranquil 
 glory of the nearly full moon, and joyous parties of friends 
 assembled together without ceremony to join in merriment and 
 mutual congratulation. The scene on Calvary was the one 
 chief topic of conversation, every tongue discoursed eloquently 
 upon the heroic death of the " Nazarene." All agreed that 
 never was so beautiful a Being seen in mortal mould, or one 
 more brave, or royal of aspect, nevertheless it was also the 
 ^ general opinion that it was well He was dead. There was no 
 doubt but that He would have been dangerous, He advanced 
 Himself as a reformer, and His teachings were decidedly set 
 against both the realm's priestcraft and policy. Moreover it 
 was evident that He possessed some strange interior power, 
 He had genius too, that strong and rare quality which draws 
 after it all the lesser and weaker spirits of men, it was well 
 and wise that He was crucified 1 People who had travelled as 
 far as Greece and Rome shook their heads and spoke pro- 
 foundly of " troublesome philosophers," they who insisted on 
 truth as a leading principle of life, and objected to shams. 
 
 " This Galilean was one of their kind" said a meditative 
 old scribe, standing at his house-door to chat with a passing 
 acquaintance, " Save that He spoke of a future life and an 
 eternal world, He could say no better and no more than they. 
 Surely there are stories enough of Socrates to fill one's mouth,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 155 
 
 he was a man for truth also, and was forever thus upsetting 
 laws, wherefore they killed him. But he was old, and the 
 ' Nazarene' was young, and death in youth is somewhat 
 piteous. All the same 'tis better so, for look you, He ran 
 wild with prophecy on life eternal. Heaven defend us all say 
 1, from any other world save this one ! this is enough for any 
 man and were there yet another to inherit, 'tis certain we are 
 not fitted for it, we die, and there's an end, no man ever rose 
 from the dead." 
 
 " Hast thou heard it said" suggested his friend hesita- 
 tingly, " that this same ' Nazarene' declared that He would rise 
 again ?" 
 
 The old scribe smiled contemptuously. 
 
 " I have heard many things" he answered, " but because 
 1 hear, I am not compelled to believe. And of all the follies 
 ever spoken this is the greatest. No doubt the Galilean's fol- 
 lowers would steal His body if they could, and swear He had 
 arisen from the dead, but the high-priest Caiaphas has had 
 a warning, and he will guard against deception. Trouble not 
 thyself with such rumours, a dead man, even a prophet of 
 God, is dead for ever." 
 
 And he went in and shut his door, leaving his acquaintance 
 to go his way homeward, which that personage did somewhat 
 slowly and thoughtfully. 
 
 All the streets of the city were bathed in a silver-clear 
 shower of moonbeams, the air was balmy and scented with 
 the fragrance of roses and orange-boughs, groups of youths 
 and maidens sauntered here and there in the cool of the vari- 
 ous gardens, laughing, chatting, and now and then lifting up 
 their well-attuned voices in strophes of choral song. Jerusa- 
 lem basked in the soft radiance of the Eastern night like a 
 fairy city of pleasure, and there was no sign among her joyous 
 people to show that the Redeemer of the world had died for 
 the world's sake that day. 
 
 In marked contrast to the animation prevailing in other 
 streets and courts, a great stillness surrounded the house of 
 Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor. The fountain in the 
 outer colonnade alone made music to itself as it tossed up its 
 delicate dust-like spray that fell tinkling back again into the 
 marble basin, no wandering breeze ruffled the petals of the 
 white roses that clung like little bunches of crumpled silk to 
 the dark walls, even the thirsty and monotonous chirp-chirp- 
 iug of the locusts had ceased. Now and then a servant
 
 156 BARABBAS 
 
 crossed the court on some errand, with noiseless feet, and one 
 Roman soldier on guard paced slowly to and fro, his sandals 
 making scarcely any sound as he measured his stately march 
 forward a dozen lengths or so, then backward, then forward 
 again, the drooping pennon on his lifted lance throwing a float- 
 ing snake-like shadow behind him as he moved. Pilate, since 
 the morning, had been seriously indisposed, and all his retinue 
 were more or less uneasy. Quiet had been enforced upon the 
 household by its haughty and resolute mistress, and now that 
 night had fallen the deep hush seemed likely to be unbroken 
 till a new day should dawn. So that when a loud and urgent 
 knocking was heard at the outmost gate, the porter who opened 
 it was almost speechless with indignation and amazement. 
 
 " I prithee cease thy rude clamour" he said, after he had 
 looked out of his loophole of observation and seen that the 
 would-be intruder was a man of distinguished appearance and 
 attire " Thou can'st not enter here with all thy knocking, 
 the governor is ill and sees no man." 
 
 " Nevertheless I must have speech with him," responded the 
 visitor " I do beseech thee, friend, delay me not my matter 
 
 " I tell thee 'tis not possible" said the porter " Would'st 
 have us lose our heads for disobeying orders ? Or crucified 
 even as the ' Nazarene' ?" 
 
 " My business doth concern the ' Nazarene' " was the 
 reply, given hurriedly and with evident emotion " Tell this 
 to one in authority ; and say that 'tis Joseph of Arimathea who 
 waits without." 
 
 At these words the porter ceased arguing, and disappeared 
 across the court into the house. Presently he returned, accom- 
 panied by a tall slave, wearing a silver chain of office. 
 
 "Worthy Counsellor" said the retainer, respectfully sa- 
 luting the Ariraathean, " Thou can'st not at this late hour 
 have speech with Pilate, who hath been sorely overwrought by 
 the harassments of the day, but I am commanded by the lady 
 Justitia to say that she will receive thee willingly if indeed thy 
 matter is of the Man of Nazareth." 
 
 " It is it is" answered Joseph eagerly " I do entreat 
 thee, bring me to thy lady straight, for every moment lost doth 
 hinder the fulfilment of mine errand." 
 
 The slave said no more, but signed to the porter to unbar the 
 gate with as little noise as possible. Then he led the way across 
 the court, gave a word of explanation to the soldier on guard,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDF 157 
 
 and finally escorted the visitor into an arched vestibule adorned 
 with flowering plants, and cooled by sparkling jets of water 
 that ran from carved lions' mouths into a deep basin of yellow 
 marble. Here the slave disappeared leaving the Arimathean 
 alone. He paced up and down with some impatience, full of 
 his own burning thoughts that chafed at every fresh delay, and 
 he was violently startled, when a grave mellow voice said '\>se 
 to him, 
 
 " What of the Christ ? Have ye indeed slain Him ?" 
 
 " Lady !" . . . he stammered, and turned to confront the 
 wife of Pilate, who had silently entered the vestibule behind 
 him. For a moment he could find no words wherewith to 
 answer her, the stedfastness of her dark eyes troubled him. 
 She was beautiful in a grand and stately way, her resolute 
 features and brooding brows expressed more fierceness than 
 tenderness, and yet her lips quivered with some deeply sup- 
 pressed emotion as she spoke again and said 
 
 " Surely thou art a Jew, and hast had thy share in this 
 murder ?" 
 
 With the shock of this bitterly pronounced accusation he 
 recovered his self-possession. 
 
 " Noble Justitia, I beseech thee in the name of God number 
 me not with the evil ones of this misguided nation !" he an- 
 swered passionately " Could I have saved the heaven-born 
 ' Nazarene,' surely I would have given my own life willingly 1 
 For I have gathered profit from His holy doctrine, and am His 
 sworn disciple, though secretly, for fear of the harshness of 
 mine own people, who would cast me out from their midst, if 
 they knew the change wrought within my soul. Moreover I 
 am a man who hath studied the sayings of the prophets, not 
 lightly but with sober judgment, and do accept all the things 
 that now have chanced to us as fulfilment of the word of God. 
 And most heartily do I render thanks unto the Most High that 
 He hath in His great mercy, permitted me to see with mortal 
 eyes His chosen true Messiah !" 
 
 " Thou dost then freely acknowledge Him as One Divine ?" 
 said Justitia fixing a searching look upon him. 
 
 " Most surely, lady ! If ever any god did dwell on earth, 'twas 
 He." 
 
 "Then He lives yet?" 
 
 Joseph looked perplexed and troubled. 
 
 " Nay ! He is dead. Hath He not been crucified ?" 
 
 " Doth a god die ?" asked Justitia, her sombre eyes glittet- 
 H
 
 158 BARABBAS 
 
 ing strangely " What power have mortal tortures on immor- 
 tal spirit? Summon thy reason and think calmly art sure 
 that He is dead ?" 
 
 Her words and manner were so solemn and impressive that 
 the Arimathean counsellor was for a moment bewildered and 
 amazed, and knew not what to say. Then, after a doubtful 
 pause he answered, 
 
 " Lady, as far as human eye and sense can judge, life hath 
 verily departed from Him. Hia body hath been taken down 
 from off the Cross, and for the reason that they found Him 
 dead, they have spared the breaking of His limbs. Whereas 
 the malefactors that were crucified with Him have had their 
 joints twisted and snapt asunder lest haply any spark of pained 
 existence should linger in them yet. But He of Nazareth 
 having perished utterly, and no faint pulse of blood being 
 feebly astir in any portion of His matchless frame, the men of 
 the law have judged it politic and merciful to give His mortal 
 pure remains to her who bore Him, Mary, His sorrowing 
 Mother, who weeps beside Him now." 
 
 Justitia heard, and her pale resolute face grew paler. 
 
 " Is't possible Divinity can perish !' ' she murmured. Again 
 she looked steadily, eearchingly at the thoughtful and earnest 
 countenance of the Arimathean, and added with a touch of the 
 domineering haughtiness which made her name a terror to her 
 household, " Then, Counsellor Joseph, if thy words be true, 
 and the Galilean Prophet be no longer living, what can thiue 
 errand be concerning Him ?" 
 
 " 'Tis naught but one of simple duty to the noble dead" 
 he replied quickly, and with anxiety " I fain would bury the 
 body of the Lord where it may be most reverently shrined and 
 undisturbed. There is a sepulchre newly hewn among the 
 rocks outside the city, not far from Calvary, but going down- 
 wards towards Gethsemane, 'twas meant for mine own tomb, 
 for well I know the years advance with me, and only God 
 knoweth how soon I may be called upon to die, nevertheless 
 if I may lay the body of the Master therein, I shall be well 
 content to be interred in baser ground below Him. We would 
 not have Him sepulchred with common malefactors, where- 
 fore, noble lady, I seek thy lord the governor's permission to 
 place within this unused burial cave of mine own choosing and 
 purchase, the sacred corpse of One, who to my thinking, was 
 indeed the Christ, albeit He hath been crucified. This is my 
 errand, and I have sped hither in haste to ask from Pilate
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 159 
 
 his free and favourable consent, which, if it be granted will 
 make of me a grateful debtor to the gentleness of Rome." 
 
 Justitia smiled darkly at the courteous phrase " the gentle- 
 ness of Rome," then her fierce brows contracted ia a puzzled 
 line. 
 
 " Truly I know not how to aid thee, friend," she said after 
 a pause " I have no power to grant thee this permit, and 
 my lord is sorely wearied and distempered by strange fancies 
 and dreams, unhappy and confusing dreams," she repeated 
 slowly and with a slight shudder " Yet stay I Wait but 
 one moment, I will inquire of him his mood, perchance it 
 may relieve him to have speech with thee." 
 
 Gliding away on her noiseless sandalled feet, her majestio 
 figure in its trailing robes of white glimmered in and out 
 the marble columns of the corridor and rapidly disappeared. 
 Joseph of Arimathea sighed heavily, and stood looking vaguely 
 at the trickling water running from the mouths of the stone 
 lions into the marble-lined hollow in the centre of the vesti- 
 bule, wondering to himself why his heart had beat so violently, 
 and why his thoughts had been so suddenly troubled when he 
 had been asked the question, " Art sure that He is dead ?" He 
 was not left long alone to indulge in his reflections, Justitia 
 returned almost as quickly as she had vanished, and pausing at 
 a little distance beckoned to him. 
 
 " Pilate will see thee" she said, as he eagerly obeyed her 
 gesture " But should'st thou find him wild and wandering ia 
 discourse, I pray thee heed him not. And beware how thou 
 dost speak of his distemper to the curious gossips of the city, 
 I would not have it noised abroad that he hath been all day 
 so far distracted from his usual self" here her steady voice 
 trembled and her proud eyes filled with sudden tears " He 
 hath been ill very ill and only I have tended him ; and not- 
 withstanding he is calmer now, thou must in converse use dis- 
 cretion." 
 
 " Trust me, noble lady" replied the Arimathean with pro- 
 found feeling, " I will most faithfully endeavour that I shall not 
 err in aught, or chafe thy lord with any new displeasure." 
 
 She bent her haughty head, partly in acknowledgment of his 
 words, partly to hide the tears that glittered on her lashes, and, 
 without further parley, led the way to her husband's private 
 room. In deep silence, hushing his footsteps needfully as he 
 moved, the Arimathean counsellor followed her.
 
 1GO BARABBAS 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PASSING through a narrow passage curtained off from the 
 rest of the house, they entered a long low vaulted apartment 
 brilliantly ablaze with lights. Roman lamps set on iron brackets 
 illuminated every corner that would otherwise have been dark, 
 waxen torches flamed in every fixed sconce. There was so 
 much flare, and faint smoke from burnt perfumes, that for a 
 moment it was impossible to discern anything clearly, although 
 the wide casement window was set open to the night and steps 
 led down from it to a closely-walled garden on which the moon 
 poured refreshing showers of silver radiance eclipsing all the 
 artificial glamour and glare within. And at this casement, ex- 
 tended on a couch, lay Pilate, pallid and inert, with half-closed 
 eyes and limp hands falling on either side of the silken coverlet 
 spread over him he had the supine and passive air of a long- 
 ailing dying man to whom death would be release and blessed- 
 ness. Joseph of Arimathea could scarcely restrain an excla- 
 mation of amazed compassion as he saw him, but a warning 
 glance from Justitia silenced him, and he repressed his feeling. 
 She meanwhile went up to her husband's couch and knelt 
 beside it. 
 
 " The counsellor is here, Pontius" she said softly " Hast 
 thou strength to give him audience ?" 
 
 Pilate opened his eyes widely and stared vaguely at his visitor, 
 then lifting one hand that trembled in the air with weakness 
 beckoned him to approach. 
 
 " Come nearer, nearer el ill" he murmured with a kind of 
 feeble pettishness, " Thou hast the look of a shadow yonder, 
 the room is full of shadows. Thou art Joseph ? From that 
 ttty of the Jews called Arimathea?" 
 
 " Even so, my lord" answered Joseph in subdued accents, 
 noting with pained concern the Roman governor's prostrate and 
 evidently suffering condition. 
 
 " And being a Jew, what dost thou seek of me ?" went on 
 Pilate, his heavy lids again half closing over his eyes " Surely 
 I have this day fully satisfied the Israelitish thirst for blood 1" 
 
 " Most noble governor," said Joseph, with as careful gentle- 
 ness and humility as he could command " Believe me that I
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 161 
 
 am not one of those -who forced thee to the deed 'twas evident 
 thy spirit did repudiate and abhor. And albeit thou hast been 
 named a tyrant and a cruel man by the unthinking of my 
 nation, I know thy gentleness, having discovered much of thy 
 good work in deeds of charity among the poor, therefore I 
 come to beg of thee the Body of the Christ" 
 
 With a sudden excited movement, Pilate dashed aside the 
 silken draperies that covered him and sat up, nervously clutching 
 his wife's arm. 
 
 "The Body of the Christ!" he echoed wildly " Hearest 
 thou that, Justitia ! The Body of the Christ 1" 
 
 His purple garments fell about him in disordered folds, his 
 vest half open showed his chest heaving agitatedly with his 
 unquiet and irregular breathing, his eyes grew feverishly 
 luminous, and gleamed with a strange restless light from under 
 the shadow of his tossed and tumbled hair. Joseph, alarmed 
 at his aspect, stood hesitating, Justitia looked at him and 
 made him a mute sign to go on and make his appeal quickly. 
 
 " Yea, 'tis the Body of the Christ I ask from thee" he 
 proceeded then, anxiously yet resolvedly " And verily I would 
 not have troubled thee at this hour, Pilate, but that thou art 
 governor and ruler of the civil laws within Judaea, therefore 
 thou alone can'st give me that which hath been slain by law. 
 I fain would lay the sacred corpse within mine own new sepul- 
 chre, with all the tears and prayers befitting a great hero 
 dead." 
 
 " Dead ?" cried Pilate fixing a wild stare upon him 
 " Already dead ? Nay art thou sure ?" 
 
 A chill tremor shook the strong nerves of the Arimathean. 
 Here was the same question Justitia had asked him a few 
 'minutes since, and it aroused the same strange trouble in his 
 mind. And while he stood amazed, unable to find words for 
 an immediate response, Pilate sprang erect, tossing his arms 
 up like a man distraught. 
 
 " Dead !" he cried again. " fools, fools whose sight is so 
 deceived ! No mortal power can slay the ' Nazarene,' He 
 lives and He hath always lived ! yea, from the beginning even 
 Unto the end if any end there be ! What ? ye have crucified 
 Him ? ye have seen His flesh pierced, and His blood flow ? 
 Ye have touched Him ? ye have seen Him share in mortal 
 labours, mortal woes, and mortal needs, ye have proved Him 
 made of perishable fleshy stuff that ye can torture and destroy ? 
 O poor dim-sighted fools ! Lo, ye have done the brarcsfc 
 I 14*
 
 162 BARABBAS 
 
 and most wondrous deed that ever was inscribed in history, 
 ye have crucified a Divine Appearance ye have gloated over 
 the seeming death of the Deathless ! A God was with us, 
 wearing apparent mortal vesture, but those who saw the suffer- 
 ing Man and Man alone, did only think they saw ! I looked 
 beyond, I, Pilate, I beheld" Here he broke off with a 
 smothered exclamation, his eyes fixing themselves alarmedly 
 upon the outer garden bathed in the full glory of the moon. 
 " Justitia ! Justitia!" he cried. 
 
 She sprang to him, and he caught her convulsively in his 
 arms, drawing her head down against his bosom and straining 
 her to his heart with passionate violence. 
 
 " Hush I hush 1" he murmured, " Let us not weep, the 
 thing is done, remorse will not avail. Accursed Jews ! they 
 forced my hand, they, with their devilish priest, did slay the 
 Man, not I. ' Ecce Homo /' I cried to them, I sought to 
 make them see even as I saw, the glory, the terror, and the 
 wonder, the radiance of that seeming-human Form, so fine 
 and marvellous, that methought it would have vanished into 
 ether 1 Even as the lightning did He shine ! His flesh was 
 but a garment, transparent as a mist through which one sees 
 the sun ! Nevertheless, let us not weep despairingly, tears 
 are but foolish for He is not dead He could not die, although 
 He hath been crucified. He hath the secret clue of death ; - 
 'tis a mystery unfathomable, for what the gods may mean 
 by this we know not, and what the world hath done we 
 know not, howbeit let the world look to it for we are not to 
 blame !" He paused, caressing with a sort of fierce tenderness 
 the dark ripples of his wife's luxuriant hair. " My love !" he 
 said pityingly " My poor tired anxious heart 1 No more 
 tears, Justitia, I pray thee, we will forget this day, for truly 
 it concerns us not, 'tis the Jews' work, let the Jews answer 
 for it for I will not, neither to Caxsar nor to God ! I have 
 said and still will say I am innocent of the blood of this Just 
 Man !" 
 
 Here, loosening his arms suddenly from around his wife, he 
 raised them with a proud and dignified gesture of protest, 
 then turning suddenly, and perceiving Joseph of Arimathea 
 where he stood apart, a silent and troubled spectator of tha 
 scene, he advanced towards him, and said gently 
 
 " Friend, what seekest thou of me?" 
 
 The Arimathean cast a despairing glance of appeal at 
 Justitia, who, hastily dashing away the tears on her cheeks and
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 163 
 
 mastering the emotion that betrayed itself in her pale and 
 sorrowful countenance, came to his rescue. 
 
 " Dear lord, hast thou forgotten ?" she said gently, as with 
 a guiding movement of her hand she persuaded Pilate to resume 
 his seat upon the couch near the open window " Thou art not 
 well, and the harassments of thy work have over-wearied thee. 
 This man doth seek the body of the ' Nazarene' for burial, 
 himself he charges with the duties of this office if thou wilt 
 give him thy permit, grant him his boon I do beseech thee, 
 and let him go his way, for thou must rest again and sleep 
 thou hast been sorely tried." 
 
 Pilate sank heavily among his cushions, looking blankly 
 into nothingness. 
 
 " Thou would'st bury the Christ ?" he asked at last, speak, 
 ing with difficulty as though his tongue were stiff and refused 
 utterance. 
 
 " Such is my one desire, my lord" answered Joseph, hope- 
 fully now, for Pilate seemed more capable of reason. 
 
 " In thine own sepulchre?" 
 
 "Even there." 
 
 <; 'Tis large ? Will't hold embodied Light and Life and yet 
 not rive asunder?" 
 
 " My lord !" faltered the Arimathean in dismay and fear. 
 
 Justitia slipped one arm around her husband's neck and said 
 something to him in a soothing whisper. Pilate smiled some- 
 what piteously, and drawing her hand down to his lips kissed it. 
 
 " This gentle lady, my wife, good sir, tells me that my 
 thoughts wander and that I fail to give thee fitting answer. I 
 crave thy pardon, counsellor, thou art a counsellor it seems, 
 and therefore no doubt hast patience with the erring and wisdom 
 for the weak. Thou would'st ensepulchre the ' Nazarene ?' 
 the body of the Crucified thou would'st number with dead 
 men ? why then, even so let it be ! take thou possession of 
 That which thou dost deem a corpse of common clay, thou 
 hast my leave to honourably inter the same. My leave !" 
 and he laughed wildly " My leave to shut within the tomb 
 That which no tomb can hold, no closebarred cave can keep, 
 no time destroy ! Go ! do as thou wilt, do all thou wilt ! 
 thou hast thy boon !" 
 
 Believed from his suspense, and full of gratitude, the Ari- 
 mathean bowed profoundly to the ground, and was about to 
 retire, when a great noise of disputation was heard in the outer 
 vestibule. Justitia started up from her husband's side in
 
 164 BARABBAS 
 
 wondering indignation and was on the point of going forth to 
 inquire the cause of such unseemly disturbance when the door 
 of the apartment was furiously flung open, and the high-priest 
 Caiaphas burst in, his glistening sacerdotal garments disordered 
 and trailing behind him, and his face livid with passion. 
 
 " Thou art a traitor, Pilate I" he exclaimed " Already dost 
 thou scheme with tricksters for the pretended resurrection 
 of the ' Nazarene' 1" 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 PILATE rose slowly up and confronted him, Justitia at his 
 side. He was now perfectly calm, and his pale features assumed 
 a cold and repellent dignity. 
 
 " Whom callest thou traitor, thou subject of Rome ?" he 
 gald " K newest thou not that though thou art high-priest of 
 the Jewish faith, thou art answerable to Caesar for insult to his 
 officer?" 
 
 Caiaphas stood breathless and trembling with rage. 
 
 " Thou also art answerable to Csesar if thou dost lend thy- 
 self to low imposture !" he said " Dost thou not remember 
 that this vile deceiver out of Galilee who hath been crucified, 
 did say ' After three days I will rise again f And do I 
 not find thee giving audience to one of His known followers 
 who oft hath entertained Him and listened to His doctrines? 
 This counsellor" and he emphasised the term sarcastically, 
 eyeing the unmoved and stately figure of Joseph of Arimathea 
 up and down angrily " now seeks His body to bury it in a 
 sepulchre, whereof he only hath the seal and secret. And 
 why doth he offer this free service ? That he may steal the 
 corpse in the silence of the second night, and make away with 
 it, and then give out a rumour that the Christ is risen 1 So 
 shall the last error be worse than the Jirst with the silly multi- 
 tude, if his scheme be not prevented." 
 
 Joseph lifted his clear grave eyes and looked full at the 
 speaker. 
 
 " I heed not thy wicked accusation, Caiaphas," he said 
 tranquilly "Thou knowest it is false, and born from out the 
 fury and suspicion of thy mind. Thy fears do make a coward 
 of thee, perchance when thou didst find the veil of the 
 Temple rent in the midst this day, and knewest'by inquiry
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 165 
 
 that so it had been torn at the very moment of the passing of 
 the soul of the ' Nazarene,' thou wert shaken with strange 
 terrors that still do haunt and trouble tb.be. Rally thyself 
 and be ashamed, for none shall steal the body I have claimed 
 from Pilate. rest for the dead is granted even by the most 
 unmerciful, and this rest is mine to give to one who whether 
 human or divine, was innocent of sin and died through treach- 
 ery undeservedly." 
 
 The blood rushed to the high-priest's brows, and he clenched 
 his hands in an effort to keep down his vising wrath. 
 
 "Hearest thou that, Pilate?" he exclaimed "Sufferest 
 thou this insolence?" 
 
 " What insolence ?" asked Justitia suddenly " 'Tis true the 
 Man of Nazareth had no fault in Him at all and that ye slew 
 Him out of fear !" 
 
 Caiaphas glared at her, his cold eyes sparkling with rage. 
 
 " I argue not with women !" he said through his set teeth 
 " They are not in our counsels, nor have they any right to 
 judgment." 
 
 Justitia smiled. Her full black eyes met his piercing shal- 
 low ones with such immeasurable scorn as made him for the 
 moment tremble. Avoiding her glance, he addressed himself 
 once more to Pilate 
 
 " Hear me, thou governor of Judasa under Caesar" he 
 said " And weigh thou this matter well lest thou unheedfully 
 fall beneath the weight of the Imperial displeasure. Thy 
 Iloman soldiery are stricken with some strange disease and 
 speak as with the milky mouths of babes, concerning mercy 1 
 'tis marvellous to note yon bearded men seized with effemi- 
 nate virtue 1 Wherefore, out of this sudden craze of mercy 
 they have spared to break the limbs of the blasphemous ' Naza- 
 rene,' proffering for excuse that He is dead already. What 
 matter! I would have had every joint within His body 
 wrenched apart ! yea, I would have had His very flesh hewn 
 into pieces after death, if I had had my way 1" He paused, 
 quivering with passion and breathing heavily. Pilate looked 
 at him with immovable intentness. " Thy centurion is at 
 fault" he continued " for he it is who hath, upon his own 
 authority, given the corpse unto the women who besought it 
 of him, and they make such a weeping and a lamentation as 
 might rouse the multitude an' 'twere not that the hour is 
 late, and night has fully fallen. And with them is that evil 
 woman of the town, the Magdalen, who doth defy us to remove
 
 166 BARABBAS 
 
 the body and place it as it should be, with the other malefac- 
 tors, saying that this man" and he indicated by a disdainful 
 gesture the Arimathean counsellor, " hath sought thy leave 
 to lay it in his own new tomb with honour. Honour for a 
 trickster and blasphemer ! If thou dost grant him this permit, 
 I swear unto thee, Pilate, thou dost lend thyself unto a scheme 
 of deep-laid cunning treachery!" 
 
 Still Pilate eyed him with the same fixed stedfastness. 
 
 " My centurion, thou sayest, is at fault" he observed pres 
 ently in cold meditative accents " What centurion ?" 
 
 "Petronius, even he who was in charge. I made him 
 accompany me hither. He waits without." 
 
 " Call him, Justitia," said Pilate, seating himself upon his 
 couch and assuming an attitude of ceremonious dignity and 
 reserve. 
 
 Justitia obeyed, and in answer to her summons, the centu- 
 rion entered, saluted and stood silent. 
 
 "The 'Nazarene' is dead?" said Pilate addressing him in 
 the measured tones of judicial inquiry. 
 
 " Sir, He hath been dead these two hours and more." 
 
 "Thou art not herein deceived?" and Pikte smiled 
 strangely as he put the question. 
 
 Petronius stared in respectful amazement. 
 
 " My lord, we all beheld him die, and one of us did pierce 
 His side to hasten dissolution." 
 
 " Why did'st thou practise mercy thus ?" 
 
 A troubled look clouded the soldier's honest face. 
 
 " Sir, there have been many terrors both in earth aud air 
 this day, and He seemed a sinless man and of a marvellous 
 courage." 
 
 Pilate turned towards Caiaphas. " Seest thou the reason of 
 this matter?" he said "This Petronius is a Roman, and 'tis 
 in Roman blood to give some reverence to courage. Your Jew 
 is no respecter of heroic virtues, an' he were, he would not 
 need to pay tribute unto Caesar I" 
 
 The high-priest gave a scornful, half-derisive gesture. 
 
 "The very man now crucified, whose heroism thy soldier 
 doth admire, was a Jew," he said. 
 
 " Not altogether," interposed Joseph of Arimathea suddenly 
 
 -r-" Mary, His mother, was of Egypt." 
 n u j 
 
 Laiapnas sneered. 
 
 " And Joseph his father was of Nazareth," he said" And 
 V the father is, so i= the son."
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 167 
 
 At these words a singular silence fell upon the group. Jus- 
 titia grew deadly pale, and leaned on the corner of her hus- 
 band's couch for support, her breath came and went hur- 
 riedly and she laid one hand upon her bosom as though to still 
 some teasing pain. Pilate half rose, there was a strange light 
 in his eyes and he seemed about to speak, but apparently on 
 consideration altering his intention he sat down again, turning 
 so wild a gaze upon Petronius that that officer was both dis- 
 mayed and startled. 
 
 " Thou hast done well" he said at last, breaking the op- 
 pressive stillness by an evident effort, "Mercy doth well be- 
 come a stalwart Roman, strong in brute strength as thou art. 
 I blame thee not in aught. And thou, great Caiaphas" here 
 he fixed his eyes full on the high-priest, " dost nobly practise 
 sentiments which best befit thy calling, revenge, bloodthirsti- 
 ness and fear ! Peace ! snatch not the words from out my 
 mouth by thy unseemly rage of interruption, I know the 
 terror that thou hast of even the dead body of Him that thou 
 hast slain, but thou art too late in thy desire to carry cruelty 
 beyond the grave. The Arimathean counsellor hath my per- 
 mit to bury the ' Nazarene' in honour even as he doth desire, 
 in his own sepulchre newly hewn. But if thou dost suspect 
 his good intent, and thinkest there is treachery in his honest 
 service, seal thou the tomb thyself with thine own mark, and 
 set a watch of as many as thou wilt, picked men and cautious, 
 to guard the sepulchre till the third day be past. Thus shall 
 all sides have justice, thou, Joseph, and thou, Caiaphas, 
 and inasmuch as this Petronius showeth too much mercy, thou 
 can'st choose another centurion than he to head thy band. 
 More I cannot do to satisfy demand" here he broke off with 
 a shuddering sigh of weariness. 
 
 " 'Tis enough" said Caiaphas sullenly "Nevertheless, 
 Pilate, had'st thou been wise, thou would'st have refused the 
 malefactor's body to this counsellor." 
 
 And he darted an angry and suspicious glance at the Ari- 
 mathean who returned his look steadily. 
 
 "Hast urged enough against me, Caiaphas?" he said 
 " Verily, were it not for my race and lineage, I would take 
 shame unto myself this day that I am born a Jew, hearing 
 thee vent such paltry rage and puny fear, and thou the high- 
 priest of the Temple ! But I will not bandy words with thee ; 
 I do most readily accept the judgment of our excellent lord 
 the governor, and herewith invite thee to be witness of the
 
 168 BARABBAS 
 
 burial of the ' Nazarene.' Thou can'st examine the sepulchre 
 within and without to make thyself sure there is no secret pas- 
 sage to serve for thy suspected robbers of the dead. Bring 
 thou thy seals of office, and set a watch both night and day, 
 I give thee promise that I will not hinder thee." 
 
 Caiaphas bent his head in stiff and haughty acknowledgment, 
 and turned on his heel to leave the apartment, then glancing 
 over his shoulder at the pensive and drooping figure of Pilate 
 he said with forced pleasantness 
 
 " I wish thee better health, Pilate !" 
 
 " I thank thee, priest" responded Pilate without looking up 
 " I wish thee better courage !" 
 
 With an indifferent nod, Caiaphas was about to leave the 
 room, when seeing that Petronius the centurion had just saluted 
 the governor and was also departing he stopped him by a 
 gesture. 
 
 "Did'st thou inquire as I bade thee, concerning young 
 Iscariot?" 
 
 " Sir," answered Petronius gravely " 'tis rumoured in the 
 city that Iscariot is dead." 
 
 " Dead !" Caiaphas clutched at him to steady himself, for 
 everything seemed suddenly reeling, then he repeated again 
 in a hoarse whisper " Dead !' ' 
 
 For a moment the air around him grew black, and when he 
 recovered his sickening senses, he saw that Pilate had risen and 
 had come forward with his wife clinging to him, and that both 
 were looking at him in undisguised astonishment, while Joseph 
 of Arimathea was shaking him by the arm. 
 
 "What ails thee, Caiaphas?" asked the counsellor, " Why 
 art thou thus stricken suddenly?" 
 
 " 'Tis naught 'tis naught !" and the proud priest drew him- 
 self up erect, the while his eyes wandered to the face of the 
 centurion once more, " Thou did'st say" and he spoke with 
 hesitation and difficulty " that 'tis rumoured Judas is dead ? 
 Surely 'tis false, how could he die ?" 
 
 " Sir, he hath slain himself, so runs the people's whisper." 
 
 Caiaphas pressed one hand over bis eyes to shut out the 
 specks of red that swam before his sight like drops of blood. 
 Then he looked round him with feigned composure his coun- 
 tenance was very pale. 
 
 "See you" he said unsteadily "It can but move me to 
 think that yesterday Judas was well and full of life, and that 
 to-day he should be dead 1 A foolish youth, of wild and
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 169 
 
 erring impulse, but nevertheless much beloved by his father 
 and his sister Judith" Here he broke off with a fierce ex- 
 clamation of mingled wrath and pain and seizing the Arima- 
 thean by the arm, he cried boisterously 
 
 " Come, thou subtle and righteous counsellor ! On with me, 
 and open thou thy rocky cave of death that we may thrust 
 within it the cause of all this mischief! Farewell, Pilate! 
 take health upon thee speedily and my blessing ! for thou 
 hast done justice in this matter, albeit late and forced from 
 thee 1 And by thy legal sanction, I will set such a watch 
 around the dead blasphemer's sepulchre as hath not been ex- 
 celled in vigilance or guardianship for any treasure of the 
 world ! his prophecy shall prove a lie ! ' After three days' ! 
 . . . nay ! not after a thousand and three ! Let thunders 
 crash, earth yawn and mountains split asunder, the ' Nazarene' 
 shall never rise again !" 
 
 And with a wild gesture of defiance he rushed from the 
 room, dragging the Arimathean with him and followed by 
 Petrouius in a state of wonderment and fear. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 PILATE and his wife remained standing where they were for 
 a moment, looking at each other in silence. The mingled light 
 of the flickering lamps around them, and the moonbeams pour- 
 ing in through the open window gave a spectral pallor to their 
 faces, which in absorbed expression reflected the same trouble, 
 the same perplexed unquiet thought. After a pause, Pilate 
 turned and moved feebly back to his couch, Justitia following 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, to escape this terror !" he murmured, as he sank 
 among his pillows once more and closed his eyes " 'Tis every- 
 where, 'tis upon Caiaphas even as it is upon us all ! A terror 
 of the unknown, the undeclared, the invisible, the deathless ! 
 What hath been done this day we cannot comprehend, we can 
 but feel a mystery in the air, and we grope blindly, seeing 
 nothing touching nothing and therefore doubting every- 
 thing, but nevertheless afraid ! Afraid of what ? Of our- 
 pelves ? Nay, for we have killed the Man who did so much 
 H 15
 
 170 BARABBAS 
 
 amaze us. What more then ? Why, no more, since He is 
 dead. And being dead, what cause is there for fear?" 
 
 He sighed heavily. Justitia knelt beside him. 
 
 " Dear, my lord" she began softly, her voice trembling a 
 little. He turned his head towards her. 
 
 " What would'st thou say, Justitia ?" he asked gently 
 " Methinks my moods do trouble thee, thou most beloved of 
 women, I fain would be more cheerful for thy sake. But 
 there is a darkness on my spirit that not even thy love can lift, 
 thou hast wept also, for I see the tears within thine eyes. 
 Why art thou moved to weakness, thou strong heart ? what 
 would they say of thee in Rome, thou who art adjudged a 
 very queen of pride, if they beheld thee now ?" 
 
 Justitia answered not, for all at once her head drooped 
 upon her husband's breast, and clinging to him close, she gave 
 way to a sudden paroxysm of passionate weeping. Pilate held 
 her to him, soothing her with trembling touch and whispered 
 words, now and again lifting his eyes to look with a kind of 
 apprehension and expectancy round the silent room as though 
 he thought some one besides themselves witnessed their actions. 
 After a while when the violence of her sobbing ceased, he said 
 
 " Tell me, Justitia tell me all that troubles thee. Some 
 secret grief thou hast kept pent up within thee through the 
 day, aud what with storm and earthquake and darkness and 
 thy fears for me, thou hast brooded on sorrow dumbly, as women 
 often do when they have none to love them. But I who 
 love thee more than life, Justitia, have the right to share thy 
 heaviness, I am strong enough or should be strong, look 
 up!" and he raised her tearful face between his hands and 
 gazed at her tenderly "Unburden thy soul, Justitia! . . . 
 tell me thy dream !" 
 
 With a cry she sprang erect, pushing back her ruffled hair 
 from her brows aud gazing out into the moonlit garden with 
 a strange expression of alarm and awe. 
 
 " No, no !" she whispered " I cannot, I dare not ! 'Tis 
 dark with the terror thou hast spoken of, a portent and a 
 mystery ; it brings no comfort, and thou can'et not bear to 
 hear more evil omens of disaster" 
 
 She broke off, adding presently in the same hushed accents, 
 
 " Did'st thou understand, Pontius, when Petronius spoke, 
 that Iscariot was dead ?" 
 
 'I Surely I understood" responded Pilate" What marvel 
 in it? 'Twas he that did betray his Master to the priests.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLDS TRAGEDY 171 
 
 He dared not testify of this his treachery, and when I asked 
 for him at this morning's trial, he could not be found. Out 
 of remorse he slew himself, or so I judge a fitting death 
 for such a traitor. Thou dost not grieve for him ?" 
 
 "I knew him not" said Justitia thoughtfully "else 
 perchance if I had known I might have pitied b'm. But 
 Judith loved him." 
 
 Pilate moved impatiently among his cushions. 
 
 " Much do I marvel at thy interest in that most haughty 
 and most forward maiden" he said " That she is beautiful 
 I grant, but vanity doth make her beauty valueless. How 
 earnest thou to choose her as a friend ?" 
 
 " She is no friend of mine," Justitia answered slowly, still 
 looking out at the clear night li Save that she has been long 
 left motherless, and is unguided and undisciplined, wherefore 
 I have counselled her at times, though truly my counsels 
 are but wasted words, and she hath evil rooted in her soul. 
 Nevertheless believe me, Pontius, now will her vanity have 
 end, for if she hath a heart, that heart will break to-night 1" 
 
 Her husband made no reply, and a long silence fell between 
 them. During this pause, a sound of joyous singing reached 
 them, a party of young men and maidens were strolling 
 homeward from some festive meeting, thrumming on stringed 
 instruments and carolling as they went. Over the wall of 
 Pilate's enclosed garden their figures could be seen passing 
 along the open street beyond and occasional scraps of their 
 conversation echoed distinctly through the air. 
 
 " Ephra, dost thou remember last week," said a man's voice 
 " when the crowd went out to meet the ' Nazarene* who died 
 to-day ? Can'st recall the wild tune they sang ? 'twas passing 
 sweet and ended thus, ' Hosanna !' " 
 
 In a high pure tenor he sent the word pealing through the 
 evening stillness, his companions caught it up and chorussed 
 all together 
 
 "Hosanna ! Hosanna '. 
 
 Hosanna in the Highest I 
 
 Blessed is he that cometh, 
 
 That cometh in the name of the Lord! 
 
 Hosanna in the Highest !" 
 
 The stirring triumph and grandeur of the melody seemed 
 to terrify Justitia, for she caught at the heavy curtain that
 
 172 BARABBAS 
 
 partially draped the window and held it clenched in her hand 
 convulsively as though for support, her whole frame trembling 
 with some inward excitement. Suddenly the singing stopped, 
 broken by laughter, and another voice cried out jestingly, 
 
 " Beware the priests ! An' we raise such a chant as this we 
 shall all be crucified 1" 
 
 They laughed again, and sauntering on, passed out of sight 
 and hearing. 
 
 Justitia dropped the curtain from her grasp, and shivered as 
 with deadly cold. Pilate watched her anxiously as she came 
 slowly towards him step by step and sat down on a low bench 
 close to his couch, clasping her hands together in her lap and 
 looking straight before her vaguely into empty air. 
 
 " Even so was the music in my dream' ' she murmured 
 " Methought the very dead did rise and sing ' Hosanna !' " 
 
 Pilate said nothing, he seemed afraid to disturb the current 
 of her thoughts. Presently raising her eyes to hid, she 
 asked 
 
 " Dost thou in very truth desire to hear ? Or will it weary 
 thee?" 
 
 " Nay, it will comfort me" he answered, taking one of her 
 listless hands and pressing it to his lips " If any comfort I 
 can have 'twill be in sharing whatever sorrow troubles thee. 
 Speak on, and tell me all, for from the very moment thou 
 did'st send to me this morning at the Tribunal, my soul has 
 been perplexed with wondering at this act of thine, so unlike 
 thee at any time." 
 
 Justitia sighed. 
 
 " Ay, it was unlike me, and ever since, I have been most 
 unlike myself. Thou knowest 'twas a morning dream, for 
 night was past, and thou had'st but lately left me to take thy 
 place within the Hall of Judgment. I had arisen from my 
 bed, but as yet I had not called my women, and partially 
 arrayed, I sat before my mirror, slowly binding up my hair. 
 My eyes were strangely heavy and my thoughts confused, 
 and suddenly the polished surface of the metal into which I 
 gazed grew black, even as a clear sky darkening with storm. 
 Then came a noise as of many waters thundering in my ears, 
 and after that I know not what did chance to me. Never- 
 theless it seemed I was awake, and wandering solitary within 
 some quiet region of eternal shade." 
 
 She paused, trembling a little, then went on. 
 
 "A solemn depth of peace it seemed to be, wherein was
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 173 
 
 neither landscape, light nor air. Methought I stood upon a 
 rift of rock gazing far downward, and there before mine eyes 
 were laid millions on millions of the dead, dead men and 
 women white as parchment or bleached bone. Side by side in 
 wondrous state they lay, and over them all brooded a pale 
 shadow as of outspread wings. And as I looked upon them all 
 and marvelled at their endless numbers, a rush of music sounded 
 like great harps swung in the wind, and far away a Voice 
 thundered ' Hosanna !' And lo ! the pale shadow of wings 
 above the dead, furled up and vanished, and through some un- 
 seen portal came a blazing Cross of Light, and after it, white 
 as a summer cloud and glorious as the sun, followed the 
 ' Nazarene' ! ' Awake, ye dead !' He cried ' Awake, for 
 Death is ended 1 Awake and pass from hence to Life 1' And 
 they awoke ! yea, they awoke in all the plenitude of strength 
 and wondrous beauty, those millions upon millions of long-per- 
 ished mortals, they uprose in radiant ranks like flowers break- 
 ing into bloom, adorned with rays of light they stood, great 
 angels every one, and cried aloud ' Glory to Thee, O Christ, 
 Thou Messenger of God ! Glory to Thee, Thou holy Pardoner 
 of our sinsl Thou Giver of Eternal Life! Glory to Thee, 
 Redeemer of the world ! we praise and worship Thee for ever 1' 
 Then was my dreaming spirit seized with shuddering and fear, 
 I turned away mine eyes unable to endure the dazzling lumi- 
 nance and wonder, and when I looked again, the scene was 
 changed." 
 
 Here Justitia broke off, and leaning closer to her husband, 
 caught both his hands in hers, and gazed earnestly into his 
 face. 
 
 " Thinkest thou not," she whispered " that this vision was 
 strange ? Why should it come to me ? I who ever doubted 
 all gods, and have in my soul accepted death as each man's 
 final end ? 'Tis a thought most unwelcome to me, that the 
 dead should rise 1" 
 
 Pilate met her eyes with a wistful woe and sympathy in hia 
 own. 
 
 " Yea, 'tis unwelcome" he said " I would not live again 
 had I the choice. For we do things in this our life 'twere 
 best not to remember, and having sinned, one's only rescue 
 is to die, die utterly and so forget we ever were. Yet per- 
 chance there is no forgetfulness, there may be an eternal 
 part within us," he stopped, gazing around him nervously 
 18 Hast thou no more to tell ? this was not all thy dream ?" 
 15*
 
 174 B ARABS AS 
 
 " All no !" cried Justitia rising from her seat with an un- 
 conscious gesture of desperation " Would that it were ! For 
 what remains is naught but horror, horror and mystery and 
 pain. 'Tis what I further saw within my vision that made me 
 send my message in such haste to thee, I thought I might 
 avert misfortune and ward off evil from thy path, my husband, 
 for if dreams have any truth, which I pray they have not, 
 thou art surely threatened with some nameless doom 1" 
 
 Pilate looked up at her troubled face and smiled forcedly. 
 
 " Fear not for me, Justitia" he said " Trust me there is 
 no other doom save death, and that doth hourly threaten every 
 man. I marvel at thy tremors, thou who art wontedly of so 
 bold a spirit I Rally thy usual courage ! surely I shall not 
 die of hearing of disaster in a dream 1 Speak on ! what else 
 did'st thou behold ?" 
 
 " I beheld a mighty ocean" replied Justitia raising one 
 hand solemnly as she spoke " And this ocean was of human 
 blood and covered all the earth ! And methought that every 
 drop within that scarlet sea did have a voice of mingled tears 
 and triumph, that cried aloud ' Hail, Jesus of Nazareth, Son 
 of the God Eternal!' Then on the ghastly waves there 
 floated, even as floats a ship, a wondrous temple, gleaming with 
 gold and precious stones, and on the summit of its loftiest pin- 
 nacle a jewelled Cross did shine. And in my dream I under- 
 stood that all the kings and emperors and counsellors of the 
 world had reared this stately fabric to the memory and the 
 worship of the ' Nazarene' 1" 
 
 " To the memory and the worship of the ' Nazarene' !" 
 repeated Pilate slowly " A temple floating on a sea of blood J 
 well, what then ?" 
 
 " Then," went on Justitia, her dark eyes dilating as she grew 
 more and more absorbed in her narration " then I saw the 
 heavens rent asunder, and many wondrous faces, beautiful and 
 wise but sorrowful, looked down. And from the waves of 
 blood arose wild sounds of lamentation and despair, and as I 
 listened I comprehended that the lofty floating temple I beheld 
 was crushing underneath it the struggling souls of men. 
 ' How long, O Lord 1 how long !' they cried, and ' Save, 
 Lord, or we perish !' Then came a great and terrible noise as 
 of martial music mixed with thunder, and lo ! a mighty Sword 
 fell straight from Heaven, and smote the temple in the midst 
 BO that it parted in twain and drifted on the crimson flood a 
 wreck, and even as it split, I saw the secret of its wickedness,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 175 
 
 an 'altar splashed with blood and strewn with dead men's 
 boaes and overflowing in every part with bags of gold ill- 
 gotten, and confronting it in lewdest mockery of worship 
 with lies upon his lips and coin grasped in both his hands 
 there knelt a leering Devil in a Priest's disguise !" 
 
 She paused, breathing quickly in a kind of suppressed ex- 
 citement then continued, 
 
 " Now, as I watched the sundered halves of the smitten 
 temple, drifting to right and left and circling round about to 
 sink, a wrathful voice exclaimed, ' Many shall call upon Me 
 saying, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, and 
 in thy name done many wonderful works f A nd I will say 
 unto them Depart from Me, I never knew ye, ye worJcers of 
 iniquity /' And even as the voice sounded, the temple sank, 
 and naught was left of it but the topmost Cross, floating alone 
 upon the sea !" 
 
 " Always the Cross !" murmured Pilate perplexedly " Doth 
 it threaten to become a symbol ?" 
 
 " I know not," answered Justitia with a far-off dreamy ex- 
 pression in her face " 'twas ever present in my dream. And 
 now to hear the end, methought I watched the lonely Cross 
 tossed by itself upon the sea, and wondered whether like the 
 temple it had once adorned 'twould also sink. To and fro it 
 floated, shining like a star, and presently I saw that wherever 
 it rested for a space, it changed the waves of blood to a light 
 like liquid fire. Then happened a strange marvel ; out of 
 the far distance came a ship, sailing straightly and with speed, 
 'twas small and light and white as foam, and within it, steer- 
 ing boldly onward, sat a woman alone. And as her vessel 
 sped across the dreadful sea, great monsters of the deep arose 
 and threatened her, the pallid hands of drowned men clutched 
 at her, noises there were of earthquake and of thunder, 
 nevertheless she sailed on fearlessly, and as she journeyed, 
 smiled, and sang. And I beheld her course with wonderment, 
 for she was steering steadily towards the Cross that floated lost 
 upon the waves. Nearer she came, and soon she reached it, 
 and leaning from her vessel's edge, she caught it in both hands 
 and raised it up towards heaven. ' Jesus, thou Messenger of 
 God 1' she cried ' Through thy great Love we claim eternal 
 Glory !' And with the swiftness of lightning she was an- 
 swered ! the sea of blood was changed to living flame, her 
 ship became a cloud of light and she herself an angel clad in 
 wings, and from the Cross she held streamed such a splendour
 
 170 BARABBAS 
 
 fts illumined all the heavens ! And with thunder and with 
 music and rejoicing, the gateways of the air, methought, were 
 opened, and with a thousand thousand winged creatures round 
 Him and above Him, and a new world rising like the morning 
 eun behind Him, again, again I saw the ' Nazarene' I And 
 with a voice of silver-sweet and overwhelming triumph He 
 proclaimed ' Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My words 
 shall not pass away /' " 
 
 She waited a moment, then went on 
 
 " The ' Nazarene' ! no other than the ' Nazarene' it was 
 whom I beheld thus gloriously surrounded ! the very ' Naza- 
 rene' whom thou, Pontius, wert asked to judge and to con- 
 demn ! No marvel was it that I sent to thee, and in my scroll 
 I would have told thee I had dreamt He was a god, but that I 
 feared some other eye than thine might intercept and scan my 
 words. Therefore I wrote ' have naught to do with that just 
 man,' alas ! 'twas foolish of me ! thou could'st not listen to 
 a woman's pleading in a matter of the law, and when my slave 
 returned I knew mine errand had been fruitless. Nevertheless 
 I strove to warn thee" 
 
 " Of what ?" asked Pilate hoarsely, he had covered his 
 eyes with his hand, and spoke with difficulty " Of naught, 
 save that being just 'twere a pity He should die. But knowest 
 thou not 'tis ever the just who are condemned? And that 
 thou did'st suffer in a dream was better than my case ; what 
 I saw and what I suffered was no dream !" 
 
 He sighed bitterly, heavily, and Justitia sitting down beside 
 him, leaned her head upon his shoulder. 
 
 " I have not yet told thee all" she said in a trembling 
 voice, " The rest concerns thy fate !" 
 
 Pilate removed his hand from his eyes and looked round 
 at her. 
 
 "My fate!" he echoed indifferently " Whate'er it be, 
 surely I shall have force enough to meet it 1" 
 
 She held his hands in both her own and pressed them con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 " Ay, full well I know thou hast force enough for anything" 
 she said " else thou would'st not be Roman. But to perish 
 even as Iscariot" 
 
 He started away from her. 
 
 " As Iscariot 1" he cried indignantly " Nay, I am no 
 traitor !" 
 
 She looked at him, her face growing very white and her lipa
 
 A DREAM OF TEE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 177 
 
 trembling. She was evidently nerving herself to utter some- 
 thing which she feared would be unwelcome. 
 
 " The gods might call thee coward, Pontius !" she said at 
 last faintly, and as though the words were wrested out of her. 
 
 He turned upon her in astonishment and wrath. 
 
 " What did'st thou say, Justitia ?" he demanded fiercely 
 " Surely I have not heard thee aright ? thou did'st not dare 
 speak such a word to me as ' coward' ?" 
 
 Her heart beat violently, but she kept her eyes fixed upon 
 him tenderly and without any visible sign of fear. 
 
 " If thou did'st see supernal glory in the ' Nazarene' " she 
 faltered slowly, and then paused, leaving her sentence un- 
 finished. 
 
 Pilate's head drooped, he shrank and shivered as though 
 some invisible hand had struck him with a heavy blow. 
 
 "Go on," he said unsteadily "Albeit I know, I know 
 now what thou would'st say." 
 
 " If thou did'st see supernal glory in the ' Nazarene,' " she 
 repeated in firmer accents " if thou didst recognise the God 
 behind the Man, ay, even to swoon thereat, surely thou 
 should'st have openly proclaimed this truth unto the priests 
 and people." 
 
 " They would not have believed me" he answered her in a 
 husky whisper, " They would have deemed me mad, unfit 
 to rule" 
 
 " What matter ?" said Justitia dauntlessly, " What are the 
 beliefs of priests or people measured against the utterance of a 
 Truth ? If thou had'st spoken" 
 
 " I tell thee they would have called me crazed" said Pilate, 
 rising and pacing the room agitatedly " They would have told 
 me that my vision was deceived, that my brain wandered. 
 How could'st thou ever persuade a callous crowd of the exist- 
 ence of the supernatural ?" 
 
 " How do they persuade themselves?" demanded Justitia 
 " These very Jews do swear by supernatural shows that seem 
 impossible. Do they not say that God Himself taught Moses 
 the Commandments on Mount Sinai? will they not even 
 accept as truth that their most vengeful Jehovah hath oft 
 condoned murder as a holy sacrifice, as in the story of their 
 own judge Jephthah, who slew his innocent daughter to satisfy 
 the horrible bloodthirstiness of Heaven 1 Why should the 
 supernatural seem less to be believed in one phase of existence 
 than another?"
 
 178 BARABBAS 
 
 tl I know not !" answered Pilate still walking to and fro 
 distressfully, "Make me not answerable for the inconsist- 
 encies of man ! I did my belt and utmost with the people, 
 if I had told them what I saw they would have dragged 
 me from the judgment-seat as one possessed of devils and 
 distraught; and Caesar would have stripped me of author- 
 ity." 
 
 "Thou could'st have suffered all loss with equanimity," 
 said Justitia thoughtfully "provided thine own conscience 
 had been clear." 
 
 He gave her no response, but still paced restlessly up and 
 down. 
 
 Justitia moved to the window and gazed out at the dark, 
 smooth velvet-looking foliage of the fig trees at the end of the 
 garden. 
 
 " It was a pale bright light, even like the beaming of this 
 very moon" she said " that shone upon me in the closing 
 of my dream. I stood, methought, in one of the strangest, 
 loneliest, wildest corners of the world, great mountain-peaks 
 towered around me, white and sparkling with a seeming-bitter 
 cold, and at my feet a solemn pool lay black and stirless. 
 And as I looked, I saw thee, Pontius ! I saw thee flitting 
 even as a spectre among the jagged rocks of those most solitary 
 hills, thou wert old and wan and weary, and had'st the livid 
 paleness of approaching death. I called thee, but thou would'st 
 not answer, onward thou did'st tread, and cam'st so near to 
 me I could have touched thee ! but ever thou did'st elude my 
 grasp. All suddenly" and here she turned towards her hus- 
 band, her eyes darkening with her thoughts " I beheld thee, 
 drifting like a cloud blown by the wind, towards a jutting 
 peak that bent above that dreary pool of waveless waters 
 there thou did'st pause, and with a cry that pierced my soul, 
 thou did'st exclaim ' Jesus of Nazareth, thou Son of God, 
 have mercy on me !' Then, ere I could bid thee turn 
 and wait for me, thou did'st plunge forward, forward and 
 down, down into the chill and darksome lake which closed 
 even as a grave above thee ! thou wert gone, gone into death 
 and silence, and I, shrieking upon thy name, awoke !" 
 
 " And waking thus in terror thou did'st send to me ?" asked 
 Pilate gently approaching her where she stood, and encircling 
 her with his arm. 
 
 She bent her head in assent. 
 
 " Even then. And later, when my messenger returned
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 179 
 
 from thee, I heard the people shout 'Not this man, but Barak* 
 bas.' Who is Barabbas ?" 
 
 " A thief and murderer" said Pilate quickly " But he 
 hath the popular sympathy. Once he was in the honourable 
 employ of Shadeen, the Persian jewel-merchant of this city, 
 and as a reward for trust reposed in him, he stole some priceless 
 pearls from out a private coffer of his master. Moreover he 
 was one of a band of revolutionary malcontents, and did stab 
 to death the Pharisee, G-abrias, out in the open streets. 'Tis 
 more than eighteen months ago now thou wert visiting thy 
 friends in Rome, and knewest naught of it. I would have had 
 Barabbas crucified, nevertheless the people have given him 
 rescue and full liberty. They celebrate their feast by the 
 release of a murderer and the slaughter of the Sinless. 'Tis 
 their chosen way and I am not to blame !" 
 
 " Iscariot also served in the house of Shadeen," said Justitia 
 meditatingly. 
 
 " Even so I have heard." 
 
 " And thou art not troubled, Pontius, by my dream ?" she 
 questioned earnestly " Seest thou no omen in its end concern- 
 ing thee, when I beheld thee perish in the gloom and solitude, 
 self-slain, even as Iscariot?" 
 
 He shuddered a little and forced a faint smile. 
 
 " If I am troubled, Justitia, 'tis because thou art, and be- 
 cause trouble doth vaguely press upon us all to-day. Trust me 
 the very Jews are not without their fears, seeing that the storm 
 hath rent their Temple veil, and darkened the land with such 
 mysterious suddenness. 'Tis enough to shake the spirits of the 
 boldest, but now perchance evil is past, and by and by the air 
 will rid itself of all forebodings. Lo, how divinely clear the 
 sky ! how fair the moon ! 'tis a silver night for the slumber 
 of the ' Nazarene' 1" 
 
 She looked at him with wondering, dilating eyes. 
 
 " Speakest thou in sober reason, Pontius ?" she said " Wilt 
 thou insist upon thy fancy that He is not dead, and that He 
 cannot die ? Thinkest thou Ho only sleeps ?" 
 
 Pilate drew her closer to him. 
 
 " Hush, hush !" he said in a low trembling tone " What- 
 ever I may think I must say nothing. Let us hold our peace, 
 let us live as the world would have us live, in the proud 
 assumption that there is nothing in the universe more powerful 
 or more wonderful than ourselves ! So shall we fit ourselves 
 for the material side of nature, and if there be in truth,
 
 180 BARABBAS 
 
 another side, a spiritual, we can shut our eyes and Bwear we 
 know naught of it. So shall we be deemed wise, and sane ! 
 and we shall give offence to no one save to God, if a God 
 perchance there be !" 
 
 His voice grew faint his eyes had a vacant stare, he was 
 looking out and upward to the brilliant sky. Suddenly he 
 brought his gaze down from the heavens to earth and fixed it 
 on the open road beyond his garden where a small dark group 
 of slowly moving figures just then appeared. 
 
 " Who goes yonder ?" he said inquiringly " Seest thou, 
 Justitia, they take the private path towards the house of 
 Iscariot ? Surely they carry some heavy burden?" 
 
 Justitia leaned forward to look, then drew back with a faint 
 cry. 
 
 " Come away, come away 1" she whispered, shivering and 
 drawing her flowing robes closer about her " Do not wait here 
 do not watch them, they are bearing home the dead !" 
 
 "The dead!" echoed Pilate "Then 'tis the body of 
 Judas !" 
 
 Justitia laid her hand entreatingly against his lips. 
 
 " Hush hush ! If it be, as indeed I feel it is, do not speak 
 of it do not look !" And with agitated impatience she drew 
 the curtain across the window and shut out the solemn beauty 
 of the night " I am chilled with horror, Pontius, I can bear 
 no more ! I would not see dead Judas in my dreams ! Let us 
 go hence and rest and try to sleep, and, if we can, forget 1" 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THAT same night, before a richly-chased mirror of purely 
 polished silver, and gazing at her own fair face reflected in it 
 by the brilliant lustre of the moon, Judith Iscariot sat, lost m 
 a pleasant reverie. She was alone, she had dismissed her 
 attendant women, the picture of her perfect loveliness ren- 
 dered lovelier by the softness of the lunar beams charmed her, 
 and she would not have so much as a small hand-lamp kindled 
 lest its wavering flicker should destroy the magical effect of her 
 beauty mirrored thus and set about with glory by the argent 
 light of heaven. Leaning back in a low carved chair she
 
 A DREAM. OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 181 
 
 clasped her round arms idly behind her head and contemplated 
 herself critically with a smile. She had cast aside the bright 
 flame-tinted mantle she had worn all day, and was now arrayed 
 in white, a straight plain robe of thin and silky texture that 
 clung about her figure closely, betraying every exquisite curve 
 and graceful line, her fiery golden hair unbound to its lull 
 length fell to the very floor in glistening showers, and from 
 underneath the thick bright ripples of it clustering on her 
 brow, her dark jewel-like eyes flashed with a mingling of joy 
 and scorn. 
 
 " What cowards, after all, are men !" she murmured half 
 aloud, "Even the strongest! Yon base Barabbas was nigh 
 to weeping for the death of the accursed ' Nazarene,' me- 
 thinks 'twas terror for himself rather than pity for the dying. 
 And Caiaphas ! who would have thought that he would be 
 paralysed with fear when they told him of the rending of the 
 Temple veil !" 
 
 She laughed softly, and her lips laughing back at her from 
 the silver surface into which she gazed, had so bewitching a 
 sweetness in their smile that she leaned forward to observe 
 them more intently. 
 
 " Verily 'tis no marvel that they dote upon me one and all" 
 she said, studying her delicate features and dazzling com- 
 plexion with complacent vanity, " Even smiling so, I draw 
 the subtle Caiaphas my way, he passeth for a wise priest, yet 
 if I do but set my eyes upon him thus" and she half closed 
 them and peered langorously through their sweeping lashes 
 " he pales and trembles, or thus" and she flashed them fully 
 open in all their fatal brilliancy " he loses breath for very 
 love, and gapes upon me, flushed and foolish like one stricken 
 with the burning of the sun. And Barabbas, I must rid me 
 of Barabbas, though there is something fierce about him that 
 I love, albeit he showed but little love for me to-day, shaken 
 and palsied as he was by cowardice." 
 
 She took up a comb and began to pass it slowly through the 
 shining splendour of her hair. Gradually her face became 
 more meditative and a slight frown contracted her brows. 
 
 " Nevertheless there was a horror in that storm I" she con- 
 tinued in whispered accents " And even now my heart mis- 
 gives me strangely, I would that Judas were at home." 
 
 She rose up, slim and stately, and stood before her mirror, 
 the golden weight of half her tresses in one hand. Round 
 about her the moonlight fell in a glistening halo, touching here 
 16
 
 182 BARABBAS 
 
 and there a jewel on her arm or bosom to a sudden glimmer 
 of white fire. 
 
 "Caiaphas should have told the people what I bade him" 
 she murmured, " that the tempest was awakened by the evil 
 sorceries of the ' Nazarene.' He was possessed of devils, and 
 they did cause the pitchy darkness and the tremor of the earth 
 that rent the rocks asunder. 'Twas even so, and Caiaphas 
 should have spoken thus, but he, too, for the moment, lost 
 judgment through his fears." 
 
 Pausing, she twisted her hair mechanically round and round 
 her fingers. 
 
 "What was the magic of the Man of Nazareth?" she 
 queried, as though making the inquiry of her own reflection 
 that gazed earnestly back at her from the silver oval surface 
 she confronted "I could see none save beauty. Beauty He 
 had undoubtedly, but not such beauty as a woman loves. 
 'Twas too austere and perfect, too grave and passionless, 
 albeit He had strange light within His eyes that for a passing 
 second moved me, even me, to terror ! And then the thunder 
 came, and then the darkness" 
 
 She shivered slightly, then laughed, and glanced up at 
 the moon that shone, round and full, in at her open case- 
 ment. 
 
 " 'Twas a malignant spell He cast," she said " But now 'tis 
 ended, and all alarms have ceased. And truly it is well for 
 us that rle is dead, for such fanatics are dangerous. And now 
 is Judas undeceived, he knows this prophet whom he called 
 his Master is no god after all but simply man, and he will 
 repent him of his wanderings and return to us again. When 
 his first rage is past, he will come back ashamed and sorrowful, 
 and seeking pardon for his fury of last night, and we will 
 welcome him with joy and feasting and forgiveness, and once 
 more we shall be happy. Yea, surely Caiaphas did advise mo 
 well, and in the death of the blasphemous ' Nazarene' Judas id 
 saved from further harm." 
 
 She threw back her hair over her shoulders and smiled. 
 Then opening a massive brass-bound casket near her, she drew 
 forth a handful of various jewels, and looked at them care- 
 lessly one by one, selecting at last a star-shaped ornament of 
 magnificent rubies. 
 
 " 'Tis a fair gift" she murmured, holding it up in the 
 moonlight and watching it flash a dull red in the silver rays 
 "I know not that I have ever seen a fairer I 'Twas wise
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 183 
 
 of Caiaphas not to bestow this on his sickly spouse, 'twould 
 ill become the pallid skin of the daughter of Annas." 
 
 She studied the gems carefully, then diving anew into the 
 casket brought out a chain of exquisite pearls, each pearl as 
 large as the ripe seed of Indian maize. 
 
 " How well they go together thus !" she said, setting them 
 with the ruby star against the whiteness of her bare arm 
 " They should be worn in company, the high-priest's rubies 
 and the stolen pearls of Barabbas !" 
 
 Her lips parted in a little mocking smile, and for a moment 
 or two she held the gems in her hand, absorbed in thought. 
 Then, slowly fastening the pearls round her throat, she put 
 back the ruby pendant into the jewel-coffer, and again peered 
 at herself in the silver mirror. And as she silently absorbed 
 the glowing radiance of her own matchless beauty, she raised 
 her arms with a gesture of irrepressible triumph. 
 
 " For such as I am the world is made !" she exclaimed 
 " For such as I am, emperors and kings madden theni;>elves 
 and die ! For such as I am proud heroes abase themselves as 
 slaves. No woman lives who can be fairer than I, and what 
 shall I do with my fairness when I am weary of sporting 
 with lovers and fools? I will wed some mighty conqueror 
 and be the queen and mistress of many nations !" 
 
 In her superb vanity, she lifted her head higher as though 
 she felt the imagined crown already on her brows, and stepped 
 slowly backward from the mirror, still steadfastly regarding 
 her own image, when all at once the sound of a hurried foot- 
 fall in the corridor startled her. She turned in a listening 
 attitude, her hair falling about her, and the pearls gleaming on 
 her throat, the hasty footstep came nearer, then paused. 
 
 " Madam ! Madam !" cried a voice outside. 
 
 Moved by some swift instinct of alarm, she sprang forward 
 and flung the door of her chamber wide open, thus confronting 
 one of her father's servants who stared at her wildly, making 
 dumb signs of despair. 
 
 " What is it ?" she gasped, her lips had grown suddenly 
 BtifF and dry and she could barely articulate, her heart beat 
 violently, and the pearls about her neck seemed strangling 
 her. 
 
 The man opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, 
 Judith clutched him by the arm. 
 
 " Speak !" she whispered " What evil news hast thou?" 
 
 " Madam," faltered the servant trembling " I dare not
 
 184 BARABBAS 
 
 utter it, prithee come thy father sends have patience , . . 
 take comfort" 
 
 He turned from her, hiding his face. 
 
 " 'Tis Judas I" she exclaimed " He is wounded ? ill ? He 
 hath returned?" 
 
 " Ay, madam, he hath returned !" replied the messenger 
 hoarsely, and then, as if fearing to trust himself to the utter- 
 ance of another word, he hastened away, mutely entreating 
 her to follow. 
 
 She paused a moment, a ghastly pallor stole away all the 
 light and brilliancy of her features, and she pressed one hand 
 upon her bosom to control its rising fear. 
 
 "He hath returned I" she murmured vaguely "Judas is 
 at home 1 My father sends for me ? then all is well, surely 
 'tis well, it cannot be otherwise than well." 
 
 Giving one glance backward into her moonlit room where 
 the silver mirror shone like a glistening shield, she began to 
 move with hesitating step through the corridor, then, all at 
 once seized by an irresistible panic, she gathered up her trailing 
 white robes in her hand and ran precipitately towards the great 
 vestibule of the house, which her father had had built in the 
 fashion of an Egyptian court, and where he was accustomed to 
 Bit in the cool of the evening with his intimates and friends. 
 It was surrounded with square columns and was open to the 
 night, and as Judith came rushing along, her gold hair flying 
 about her like flame and her dark eyes wild with uncertain 
 terror and expectancy, she was confronted by the tall figure of 
 a man who, with extended arms, strove to intercept himself 
 between her and some passive object that lay, covered with a 
 cloth, on the ground a few steps beyond. She gazed at him 
 amazedly, it was Barabbas. 
 
 "Judith!" he faltered " Judith, wait ! Have pa- 
 tience" 
 
 But she pushed him aside and ran towards her father whom 
 she perceived leaning against one of the carven columns, his 
 face hidden upon his arm. 
 
 "Father !" she cried. 
 
 He raised his head and looked at her, his austere fine 
 features were convulsed by a speechless agony of grief, and 
 with one trembling hand he pointed silently to the stirless 
 covered shape that reposed at a little distance from him. Her 
 eyes followed his gesture, and, staggering forward feebly step 
 by step, she pushed back her hair from her brows and stared
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDF 185 
 
 fixedly at the outline of the thing that was so solemnly inert. 
 Then the full comprehension of what she saw seemed to burst 
 in upon her brain, and falling upon her knees she clutched 
 desperately at the rough cloth which concealed that which she 
 craved, yet feared to see. 
 
 " Judas !" she cried " Judas !" 
 
 Her voice broke in a sharp shriek, and she suddenly with- 
 drew her hands and looked at them in horror, shuddering, as 
 though they had come in contact with some nameless abomina- 
 tion. Lifting her eyes she became dimly conscious that others 
 were around her, that her father had approached, that Ba- 
 rabbas was gazing at her, and with a bewildered vacant smile 
 she pointed to the hidden dead. 
 
 " Why have ye brought him home thus wrapped from light 
 and air ?" she demanded in quick jarring accents " It may be 
 that he sleeps, or hath swooned. Uncover his face !" 
 
 No one moved to obey her. The veiled corpse lying black 
 and stirless in the full light of the moon had something solemnly 
 forbidding in its aspect. And for one or two minutes a pro- 
 found and awful stillness reigned, unbroken save by the slow 
 chime of a bell striking the midnight hour. 
 
 Suddenly Judith's voice began again, murmuring in rapid 
 whispers. 
 
 " Judas, Judas !" she said, "waken! 'Tis folly to lie 
 there and fill me with such terrors, thou art not dead, it is 
 not possible, thou could'st not die thus suddenly. Only last 
 night thou earnest here full of a foolish rage against me, and 
 in thy thoughtless frenzy thou did'st curse me, lo, now thou 
 must unsay that curse, thou can'st not leave me unforgiven 
 and unblessed. What have I ever done of harm to thee ? I 
 did but bid thee prove the treachery of the ' Nazarene.' And 
 thou hast proved it ; wherefore should'st thou grieve to find 
 deception at an end ? Rise up, rise up ! if thou art ill 'tis I 
 will tend thee, waken ! why should'st thou rest sullen thus 
 and angry still? Surely 'tis I who should be angry at thy 
 churlishness, for well I know thou hear'st my voice, though 
 out of some sick humour, as it seems, thou wilt not answer 
 me!" 
 
 And once more her hands hovered hesitatingly in the air, till 
 apparently nerving herself to a supreme effort, she took trem- 
 bling hold of the upper part of the pall-like drapery that hid 
 the corpse from view. Lifting it fearfully, she turned it back, 
 slowly, slowly, then stared in horrid woudermeut, was that 
 16*
 
 186 BARABBAS 
 
 her brother's face she looked upon ? that fair, strange, pallid 
 marble mask with those protruding desperate eyes? Such 
 fixed impenetrable eyes ! they gave her wondering stare for 
 stare, and as she stooped down close, and closer yet, her warm 
 red lips went nigh to touch those livid purple ones which were 
 drawn back tightly just above the teeth in the ghastly sem- 
 blance of a smile. She stroked the damp and ice-cold brow, 
 she thrust her fingers in the wild hair, it was most truly Judas 
 or some dreadful likeness of him that lay there in waxen effigy, 
 a white and frozen figure of dead youth and beauty, and 
 yet she could not realise the awful truth of what she saw. 
 Suddenly her wandering and distrustful gaze fell on his throat, 
 a rope was round it, twisted in such a knot that where it 
 pressed the flesh the skin was broken, and the bruised blood, 
 oozing through, had dried and made a clotted crimson mark as 
 though some jagged knife had hacked it. Beholding this, she 
 leapt erect, and tossing her arms distractedly above her head, 
 gave vent to a piercing scream that drove sharp discord through 
 the air, and brought the servants of the household running in 
 with torches in the wildest confusion and alarm. Her lather 
 caught her in his arms, endeavouring to hold and pacify her, 
 in vain ! he might as well have striven to repress a whirlwind. 
 She was transformed into a living breathing fury, and writhed 
 and twisted in his grasp, a convulsed figure of heart-rending 
 despair. 
 
 " Look you, they have murdered him !" she shrieked 
 " They have murdered Judas ! he hath been violently slain 
 by the followers of the * Nazareue' 1 cruel deed ! There 
 shall be vengeance for it, vengeance deep and bitter, for 
 Judas had no fault at all save that of honesty. Caiaphas ! 
 Caiaphas ! Where is Caiaphas ? Bid him come hither and 
 behold this work ! bid him pursue and crucify the murderers ! 
 let us go seek the Roman governor, justice I say ! I will 
 have justice" Here her shrill voice suddenly sank, and 
 flinging herself desperately across her brother's body, she tried 
 with shaking fingers to loosen the terrible death-noose of the 
 strangling cord. 
 
 " Undo this knot" she cried sobbingly " God ! will 
 none of ye remove this pressure that doth stop his breath ? 
 Maybe he lives yet ! his eyes have sense and memory in them. 
 untie this twisted torture, prithee help me, friends, father, 
 help me" 
 
 Even as she spoke, with her fingers plucking at the cord, an
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 187 
 
 awful change passed over her face, and snatching her hands 
 away she looked at them aghast, they were wet with blood. 
 A strange light kindled in her eyes, a wan smile hovered on 
 her lips. She held up her stained fingers. 
 
 " Lo, he bleeds 1" she said " The life within him rises to 
 my touch, he is not dead 1" 
 
 " He bleeds as dead men oft are wont to bleed at the touch 
 of their murderers !" said a harsh voice suddenly, " Thou, 
 Judith, hast brought thy brother to his death, wherefore his 
 very blood accuses thee 1" 
 
 And the rugged figure of Peter advancing, stood out clear in 
 the moonbeams that fell showering on the open court. 
 
 Iscariot, tall and stately, confronted him in wrath and 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Man, how darest thou at such a time thus rave upon my 
 daughter" he began, then stopped, checked in his speech by 
 the austere dignity of the disciple's attitude and his regal half- 
 menacing gesture. 
 
 " Back, Jew !" he said " Thou who art not born again of 
 water or of spirit, but art ever of the tainted blood of Israel 
 unregenerate, contest no words with me ! Remorse hath made 
 me strong ! I am that Peter who denied his Master, and out 
 of sin repented of I snatch authority ! Dispute me not, I 
 speak not unto thee, but unto her ; she who doth clamour for 
 swift justice on the murderers of her brother there. Even so 
 do / cry out for justice ! even so do 1 demand vengeance ! 
 vengeance upon her who drove him to his doom. For Judas 
 was my friend, and by his own hand was he slain, but in 
 that desperate deed no soul took part save she who now be- 
 moans the end that hath been wrought through the tempting 
 of her serpent subtilty !" 
 
 " Hast thou no mercy ?" cried Barabbas in an agony, " Not 
 even at this hour?" 
 
 " Not at this hour nor at any hour !" responded Peter with 
 fierce triumph lighting up his features, ' God forbid that I 
 should show any mercy to the wicked !" 
 
 " There spoke tbe first purely human Christian !" murmured 
 a low satirical voice, and the picturesque form of Melchior 
 shadowed itself against a marble column whitened by the 
 moon "Verily, Petrus, thou shalt convey to men in a new 
 form the message of Love Divine !" 
 
 But the disciple heeded not these words. He strode forward 
 to where Judith lay half prone across her brother's corpse, stiH
 
 188 BARABBA9 
 
 busying herself with efforts to untie the suicidal noose at the 
 throat, that was now darkly moist with blood. 
 
 "What doest thou there, Judith Iscariot?" he demanded 
 " Thou can'st never unfasten that hempen necklet, 'tis not 
 of pearls or sparkling gems such as thy soul loveth, and 
 Judas himself hath knotted it too closely for easy severance. 
 Let be, let be, weep and lament for thine own treachery, 
 for behold a curse shall fall upon thee, never to be lifted from 
 thy life again!" 
 
 She heard, and raising her eyes which were dry and glit- 
 tering with fever, smiled at him. So wildly beautiful did she 
 look, that Peter though wrought up to an exaltation of wrath, 
 was for a moment staggered by the bewildering loveliness of 
 her perfect face showered round by its wealth of red-gold hair, 
 and hesitated to pronounce the malediction that hovered on 
 his lips. 
 
 "Never again, never again" she murmured vaguely 
 " See !" And she showed him her blood-stained fingers " Life 
 lingers in him yet ! ah, prithee, friend" and she gazed up 
 at him appealingly " Undo the cruel cord ! if Judas tied 
 it, ... did' st thou not tell me Judas tied it? . . . how could 
 that be ?" She paused, a puzzled look knitting her brows, 
 then a sudden terror began to shake her limbs. 
 
 " Father !" she exclaimed. 
 
 He hastened to her, and lifting her up, pressed her against 
 his breast, the tears raining down his face. 
 
 " What does it mean ?" she faltered, gazing at him alarm- 
 edly " Tell me, it is not true, ... it cannot be true, 
 Judas was ever brave and bold, he did not wreak this vio- 
 lence upon himself?" 
 
 Iscariot strove to answer her, but words failed him, the 
 wonted calmness of his austerely handsome features was com- 
 pletely broken up by misery and agitation. She, however, 
 gazing fully at him, understood at last, and, wrenching her- 
 self out of his arms, stood for a moment immovable and 
 ghastly pale, as though suddenly turned to stone. Then, 
 lifting her incardined hands in the bright moon-rays, she 
 broke into a discordant peal of delirious laughter. 
 
 " terrible Nazarene !" she cried " This is thy work ! Thy 
 sorceries have triumphed ! thou hast thy victory ! Thou art 
 avenged in full, thou pitiless treacherous Nazarene 1" 
 
 And with a sharp shriek that seemed to stab the stillness 
 with a wound, she fell forward on the pavement in a swoon, as
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 189 
 
 lost to sense and sight as the body of Judas, that with its fixed 
 wide-open eyes stared blindly outward into nothingness and 
 smiled. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THEY carried her to her own chamber and left her to the 
 ministrations of her women, who wept for her as women will 
 often weep when startled by the news of some tragic event 
 which does not personally concern them, without feeling any 
 real sympathy with the actual cause of sorrow. Her haughty 
 and arrogant disposition had made her but few friends among 
 her own sex, and her peerless beauty had ever been a source of 
 ill-will and envy to others less dazzlingly fair. So that the very 
 maidens who tended her in her fallen pride and bitter heart- 
 break, though they shed tears for pure nervousness, had little 
 love in their enforced care, and watched her in her deep swoon 
 with but casual interest, only whispering vague guesses one to 
 another as to what would be her possible condition when she 
 again awoke to consciousness. 
 
 Meanwhile her brother's corpse was reverently placed on two 
 carved and gilded trestles set in an arched recess of the open 
 court, and draped with broideries of violet and gold. In stern 
 silence and constrained composure, the unhappy father of the 
 dead man gave his formal instructions, and fulfilled in every 
 trifling particular the duties that devolved upon him, and 
 when all had been done that was demanded of him for the im- 
 mediate moment, he turned towards those three who had brought 
 home the body of his son between them, Barabbas, Melchior, 
 and the disciple Peter. 
 
 " Sirs," he said in a low voice broken by emotion " I have 
 to thank ye for the sorrowful service ye have rendered me, 
 albeit it hath broken my heart and hath visited upon our house 
 such mourning as shall never cease. Only one of ye am I in 
 any sort acquainted with, and that is Barabbas, lately the 
 prisoner of the law. In former days he hath been welcomed 
 here and deemed a worthy man and true, and now, despite his 
 well-proved crimes and shame of punishment, I can but bear 
 in mind that once he was my son's companion in the house of 
 El-Shadeen." Here his accents faltered, but he controlled him- 
 self and went on " Wherefore, excusing not his faults, I yet
 
 190 BAR ABB AS 
 
 would say that even as the people have released him, I cannot 
 visit him with censure, inasmuch as he hath evident pity for 
 my grief and did appeal for my beloved child against the 
 mercilessness of this stranger." 
 
 Pausing, he turned his eyes upon Peter, who met his gaze 
 boldly. 
 
 " Stranger I truly am from henceforth to the Jews" said 
 the disciple, " Naught have I in common with their lives, 
 spent in the filthy worship of Mammon and the ways of usury. 
 Nevertheless I compassionate thy fate, Iscariot, as I compas- 
 sionate the fate of any wretched man stricken with woes in- 
 numerable through his own blindness and unbelief; and as 
 for mercilessness whereof thou dost accuse me, thou shalt find 
 the Truth ever as a sword inclement, sharp to cut away all 
 pleasingly delusive forms. When thou dost speak of thy be- 
 loved child, thou dost betray the weakness of thy life, for from 
 thy nest of over-pampering and indulgent love hath risen a 
 poison snake to sting and slay 1 A woman left unguarded aud 
 without authority upon her is even as a devil that destroys, 
 a virgin given liberty of will is soon deflowered. Knowest 
 thou not thy Judith is a wanton ? and that thy ravening high- 
 priest Caiaphas hath made of her a viler thing than ever was 
 the city's Magdalen ? Ah, strike an' thou wilt, Iscariot ! the 
 truth is on my lips ! tear out my tongue and thou shalt find 
 the truth still there !" 
 
 Speechless with wrath, Iscariot made one fierce stride towards 
 him with full intent to smite him across the mouth as the only 
 fitting answer to his accusation, but as he raised his threatening 
 hand, the straight unquailing look of the now almost infuriate 
 disciple, struck him with a sudden supernatural awe and he 
 paused, inert. 
 
 " The truth, the truth !" cried Peter, tossing his arms about 
 " Lo, from henceforth I will clamour for it, rage for it, live 
 for it, die for it ! Three times have I falsely sworn, and thus 
 have I taken the full measure of a Lie 1 Its breadth, its depth, 
 its height, its worth, its meaning, its result, its crushing suffo- 
 cating weight upon the soul 1 I know its nature 'tis all hell 
 in a word ! 'tis a ' yea' or ' nay' on which is balanced all eter- 
 nity I I will no more of it, I will have truth, the truth of 
 men, the truth of women, no usurer shall be called honest, 
 fft wanton shall be called chaste, to please the humour of the 
 /tassing hour! No no I will have none of this but only 
 truth 1 the truth that is even as a shining naked scimitar in
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 19J 
 
 the hand of God, glittering horribly ! I, Peter, will declare 
 it ! I who did swear a lie three times, will speak the truth 
 three thousand times in reprisal of my sin ! Weep, rave, tear 
 thy reverend hairs, unreverent Jew, thou, who as stiffnecked 
 righteous Pharisee did'st practise cautious virtue and self- 
 seeking sanctity, and now through unbelief, art left most deso- 
 late I Would'st stake a world upon thy daughter's honour ? 
 Fie I 'tis dross ! 'tis common ware, purchaseable for gold and 
 gewgaws ! Lo, through this dazzling woman-snare born of thy 
 blood, a God hath perished in Judaea ! His words have been 
 rejected, His message is despised, His human life hath been 
 roughly torn from Him by torture. Therefore upon Judaea 
 shall the curse be wrought through ages following endless ages, 
 and as the children of the house of Israel do worship gold, 
 even so shall gold be their damnation ! Like base slaves shall 
 they toil, for kings and counsellors ; even as brutish beasts 
 shall they be harnessed to the wheels of work, and drag the 
 heavier burdens of the State beneath the whip and scourge, 
 despised and loathed they shall labour for others, in bondage. 
 Scattered through many lands their tribes shall be, and never- 
 more shall they be called a nation 1 For ever and for ever 
 shall the sinless blood of the Messenger of God rest red upon 
 Judaea ! for ever and for ever from this day, shall Israel be cast 
 out from the promises of life eternal, a scorn and abomina- 
 tion in the sight of Heaven !" 
 
 He paused, breathless, his hands uplifted as though invoking 
 doom. His rough cloak fell away from his shoulders in almost 
 regal folds, displaying his coarse fisherman's dress beneath, 
 his figure seemed to grow taller and statelier, investing itself 
 with a kind of mystic splendour in the shining radiance of the 
 moon. Lifting his eyes to the stars twinkling like so many 
 points of flame above him, he smiled, a wild and wondering smile. 
 
 " But the end is not yet !" he said " There is a new terror 
 and trembling, that doth threaten the land. For ye have 
 murdered the Christ without slaying Him ! ye have forced 
 Him to suffer death, but He is not dead ! To-night He is 
 buried, shut down in the gloom of the grave, what will ye 
 do if the great stones laid above Him have no force to keep 
 Him down ? what if the earth will not hold Him ? what if, 
 after three days, as He said, He should rise to life again ? I 
 will aver nothing, I will not again swear falsely, I will shut 
 my doubts and terrors in mine own soul and say no more, but 
 think of it, ye unregenerate of Israel, what will ye do in
 
 192 BARABBAS 
 
 the hour of trembling if He, whom ye think dead, doth in 
 very truth arise to life ?" 
 
 His voice sank to a whisper, he glanced about him ner- 
 vously, then, as though seized by some sudden panic, he 
 covered himself shudderingly up in his mantle so that his face 
 could hardly be seen, and began to steal away cautiously on 
 tip-toe. 
 
 " Think of it !" he repeated, looking back once at Iscariot 
 with a wild stare " Perchance He may pardon Judas ! Nay, 
 I know nothing I will swear nothing, nevertheless 'twill be 
 a strange world, 'twill be an altogether different, marvellous 
 world if He should keep His word, and after three days no 
 more, no less, He should arise again !" 
 
 And still moving as one in fear, shrouded in his cloak and 
 stepping noiselessly, he turned abruptly and disappeared. 
 
 Iscariot gazed after him in mingled anger and perplexity. 
 
 " Is it some madman ye have brought hither ?" he demanded 
 " What manner of devil doth possess him?" 
 
 " The devil of a late remorse," answered Melchior slowly 
 " It doth move a man ofttimes to most singular raving, and 
 doth frequently inspire him to singular deeds. The devil in 
 this fisherman will move the world !" 
 
 "Fisherman?" echoed Iscariot wonderingly "Is he no 
 more than common ?" 
 
 " No more than common," replied Melchior, his eyes 
 dilating singularly " Common as clay ! Herein will be his 
 failure and his triumph. The scent of the sea was round him 
 at his birth, from very boyhood he hath contended with the 
 raging winds and waters, so shall he yet contend with similarly 
 warring elements. No kings ever travelled from afar to kneel 
 before him in his cradle, no Eastern sages proffered gifts to 
 honour him, no angels sang anthems for him in the sky, 
 these things were for the ' Nazarene' whom lately he denied, 
 but whom he now will serve most marvellously I But, for the 
 present, as the time now goes, he is but Simon Peter, one of 
 the fisher-folk of Galilee, and lately a companion of thy dead 
 son, Judas." 
 
 A smothered groan escaped Iscariot's lips as his eyes wan- 
 dered to the extemporised bier on which the corpse of Judas 
 lay. 
 
 " Unhappy boy !" he murmured " No wonder thou wert 
 fanatic and wild, consorting with such friends as these !" 
 
 He went and stood by the covered body, and there, looking
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 193 
 
 round towards his visitors with an air of sorrowful and re- 
 signed dignity, said, 
 
 " Ye will not take it ill of me, sirs, that I entreat ye now to 
 leave me. The grief I have is almost too great to grasp, 
 my spirit is broken with mourning, and I am very weary. As 
 for my daughter, thou, Barabbas, needest not that I should 
 tell thee of the falsity of the slander brought against her by 
 yon mad disciple of a mad reformer. Thou knowest her, 
 her innocence, her pride, her spotless virtue, and to the friend 
 thou hast with thee, thou wilt defend her honour and pure 
 chastity. Thou nearest me ?" 
 
 " I hear thee" answered Barabbas in a choked voice 
 " And verily my whole heart aches for thee, Iscariot 1" 
 
 The elder man looked at him keenly and trembled. 
 
 " I thank thee, friend I" he then said quickly " Thou hast 
 been guilty of heinous crimes, but nevertheless I know thou 
 hast manliness enough, and wilt, as far as lies within thy 
 power, defend my child from scurrilous talk, such as this 
 coarse-tongued Galilean fisherman may set current in the 
 town." He paused as though he were thinking deeply, then 
 beckoned Barabbas to approach him more closely. As his 
 gesture was obeyed, he laid one hand on his son's veiled corpse 
 and the other on Barabbas's arm. 
 
 " Understand me well 1" he said in a fierce hoarse whisper 
 " If there were a grain of truth in that vile slander, I would 
 kill Caiaphas ! yea, by this dead body of mine only son I 
 swear I would slay him before all the people in the very pre- 
 cincts of the Temple 1" 
 
 In that one moment his face was terrible, and the sombre 
 eyes of Barabbas glittered a swift response to his thought. 
 'For a brief space the two men looked at each other steadily, 
 and to Barabbas's excited fancy it seemed as if at the utter- 
 ance of Iscariot's oath, the body of Judas trembled slightly 
 underneath its heavy wrappings. One second, and the sudden 
 flash of furious comprehension that had lighted their dark 
 features as with fire, passed, and the bereaved father bent his 
 head in ceremonious salutation. 
 
 " Farewell, sirs," he said, bidding Barabbas retreat from 
 him by a slight commanding sign " What poor thanks a 
 broken-hearted man can give are yours for bringing home my 
 dead. I will see ye both again, a few days hence, when 
 the bitterness of grief is somewhat quelled, when I am 
 
 stronger, better fitted for reasonable speech, but now" 
 
 I r 17
 
 194 BARABBAS 
 
 He waved his hand in dismissal, and drawing his mantle 
 round him, sat down by his son's corpse, to keep an hour's 
 melancholy vigil. 
 
 Barabbas at once retired with Melchior, only pausing on his 
 way out to inquire of a passing servant if Judith had recov- 
 ered from her swoon. He received an answer in the negative, 
 given with tears and doleful shaking of the head, and with a 
 heavy heart, he left the house and passed into the moonlit 
 street. There, after walking a little way, Melchior suddenly 
 stopped, fixing his jewel-like contemplative eyes upon the 
 brooding face of his companion. 
 
 " Dreamest thou, good ruffian, of the beauty of thy lost 
 Judith ?" he said " I confess to thee I never saw a fairer 
 woman ! Even her sorrow doth enhance her loveliness." 
 
 Barabbas shuddered. 
 
 " Why speak to me now of her beauty ?" he demanded pas- 
 sionately " Hath it not wrought sufficient havoc ? Think of 
 the dead Judas !" 
 
 " Truly I do think of him" responded Melchior gravely 
 " All the world will think of him, he will never be forgotten. 
 Unhappy youth ! for history will make him answerable for 
 sins that are not all his own. But the chronicles of men are 
 not the chronicles of God, and even Judas shall have justice 
 in the end. Meantime" and he smiled darkly " knowest 
 thou, good Barabbas, I am troubled by a singular presentiment ? 
 Poverty doth not oppress me, nevertheless I swear unto thee, 
 I would not in these days stake a penny piece upon the value 
 of the life of Caiaphas. What thinkest thou ?" 
 
 Barabbas stared at him, aghast and breathing quickly. And 
 for a moment they remained so, gazing full at one another in 
 the paling radiance of the sinking moon, then walked on 
 together, homeward, in silence. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 TOWARDS three o'clock in the dawn of the Jewish Sabbath, 
 Judith Iscariot awoke from her heavy stupor of merciful un- 
 consciousness. Opening her eyes, she gazed about her bewil- 
 deredly, and gradually recognised her surroundings. She was 
 in her own room, the casement was closed and lamps were burn-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 195 
 
 ing, and at the foot of her couch sat two of her waiting- 
 women sunk in a profound slumber. Lifting herself cautiously 
 upon her pillows, she looked at them wonderingly, then 
 peered round on all sides to see if any others were near. No, 
 there was no one, only those two maids fast asleep. 
 Gathering together her disordered garments, and twisting up 
 her hair in a loose knot, she noiselessly arose and stepping 
 down from her couch, moved across the room till she faced 
 her mirror. There she paused and smiled wildly at herself, 
 how strange her eyes looked 1 ... hut how bright, how 
 beautiful 1 The pearls Barabbas had given her long ago, 
 gleamed on her throat, she fingered them mechanically, 
 poor Barabbas ! certainly he had loved her in days gone by. 
 But since then many things had happened, wonderful and 
 confusing things, and now there was only one thing left to 
 remember, that after long absence and unkind estrangement 
 Judas was once more at home ! Yes ! Judas was at home, 
 and she would go and see him and talk to him, and clear 
 up whatever foolish misunderstanding there had been between 
 them. Her head swam giddily, and she felt a feebleness in 
 all her limbs, shudders of icy cold ran through her, followed 
 by waves of heat that sickened and suffocated her, but she 
 paid little heed to these sensations, her one desire to see Judas 
 overpowering all physical uneasiness. She fastened her white 
 robe more securely about her with a gold-embroidered girdle, 
 and catching sight of her ornamental dagger where it lay on 
 a table close by, she attached it to her waist. Then she 
 glanced anxiously round at her two women, they still slept. 
 Stepping needfully on tip-toe, she passed easily out of her 
 room, for the door had been left open for air, and there was 
 only the curtain at the archway to quietly lift and let fall. 
 Tottering a little as she walked, she glided along the corridor, 
 a white figure with a spectral pale face and shining eyes, 
 she felt happy and light-hearted, almost she could have 
 sung a merry song, so singularly possessed by singular joy was 
 she. Reaching the open-air court she stopped, gazing eagerly 
 from side to side, its dim quadrangle was full of flickering 
 lights and shadows, for the moon had disappeared behind the 
 frowning portico, leaving but a silvery trail upon the sky to 
 faintly mark her recent passage among the stars. Everything 
 was very still, no living creature was visible save a little 
 downy owl that flew with a plaintive cry in and out among 
 the marble columns calling to its mate with melancholy per-
 
 196 BARABBAS 
 
 sistence. The bereaved Iscariot, wearied out by grief, had 
 but just retired to snatch some sorely-needed rest, and the 
 body of his hapless son laid out beneath its violet pall, pos- 
 sessed to itself the pallid hour of the vanishing night and the 
 coming morn. Judith's softly sandalled feet made a delicate 
 sound like the pattering of falling leaves, as she moved some- 
 what unsteadily over the pavement, groping in the air now 
 and then with her hands as though she were blind. Very 
 soon her perplexed and wandering gaze found what she sought, 
 the suggestive dark mass of drapery under which reposed 
 all that was mortal of her brother, the elder companion and 
 confidant of her childhood who had loved her with a tender- 
 ness " passing that of women." She hurried her steps and 
 almost ran, and without any hesitation or fear, turned back 
 all the coverings till the face and the whole form of the dead 
 Judas lay before her, stark and stiff, the rope still fastened round 
 the neck in dreadful witness of the deed that had been done. 
 Terribly beautiful he seemed in that pale semi-radiance of the 
 sky, austerely grand, with something of a solemn scorn 
 upon his features, and an amazing world of passionate appeal 
 in his upward gazing eyes. "Call ye me a traitor?" he 
 mutely said to the watchful stars " Lo, in the days to come, 
 there shall be among professing saints many a worse than I !" 
 
 His sister looked at him curiously, with an expression of 
 wild inquisitiveness, but she neither wept nor trembled. A 
 fixed idea was in her distracted brain, undefined and fantastic, 
 but such as it was she was bent upon it. With a strange 
 triumph lighting up her eyes, she drew her jewelled dagger 
 from its sheath, and with deft care cut asunder the rope round 
 the throat of the corpse. As she pulled it cautiously away, 
 the blood again oozed slowly forth from beneath the bruised 
 skin, this was mysterious and horrible, and terrified her a 
 little, for she shuddered from head to foot. Anon she smiled, 
 and twisting the severed cord, stained and moist as it was, 
 in and out the embroidered girdle at her own waist, she threw 
 the dagger far from her into a corner of the quadrangle, and 
 clapped her hands delightedly. 
 
 " Judas !" she exclaimed " Lo ! I have cut the cruel rope 
 wherewith thou wast wounded, now thou can'st breathe 1 
 Come I rise up and speak to me ! Tell me all I will believe 
 all thy marvellous histories 1 I will not say that thou art wrongly 
 led, if thou wilt only smile again and speak, I will pardon 
 all thy foolish fancy for the teachings of the ' Nazarene.'
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDF 197 
 
 Thou knowest I would not drive thee to despair, I would noi 
 even willingly offend thee, I am thy little sister always who 
 is dear to thee. Judas listen ! 'Twas Caiaphas, 'twas the 
 high-priest himself who bade me to tell thee to betray thy 
 Master, and very rightly for thy mad prophet came in arms 
 against our creed. Why should'st thou turn rebellious and 
 forsake the faith of all our fathers? Come, rise and hear 
 reason 1" and with the unnatural force of a deepening frenzy, 
 she bent down and partly raised the corpse, staring at its 
 fearful countenance with mingled love and horror " Why, 
 how thou lookest at me ! with what cold unpiteous eyes ? 
 What have I done to thee ? Naught, save advise thee wisely. 
 As for Caiaphas, thou knowest not Caiaphas how much he 
 can do for thee if thou wilt show some fitting penitence"- 
 here she broke off with a kind of half-shriek, the weight of 
 the dead body was too much for her and lurched backward, 
 dragging her with it, she loosened her arms from about it, 
 and it straightway fell heavily prone in its former position. 
 She began to sob childishly. 
 
 " Judas, Judas 1 Speak tome! Kiss me! I know thou 
 nearest me and wilt not answer me for anger, because this 
 stranger out of Nazareth is dearer unto thee than I !" 
 
 She waited in evident expectation of some response, then, 
 as the silence remained unbroken, she began to play with the 
 blood-stained rope at her girdle. 
 
 " Ah well !" she sighed " I am sorry thou art sullen. 
 Caiaphas would do great things for thee if thou wert wise. 
 Why should'st thou thus grow desperate because of a traitor's 
 death? What manner of man was this much-marvelled-at 
 ' Nazarene' ? Naught but a workman's son, possessed of strange 
 fanaticism ! And shall so small a thing sow rancour 'twixt us 
 twain ? Yet surely I will humour thee if still to humour Him 
 should be thy fancy, thou shalt have cross and crown made 
 sacred an' thou wilt, I can do no more in veriest kindness to 
 appease thy wrath, moreover thou dost maintain a useless 
 churlishness, since thy ' Nazarene' ia dead, and cannot, even to 
 please thee and amend thy sickness, rise again." 
 
 Again she paused, then commenced pacing to and fro in 
 the shadowy court looking about her vaguely. Presently spying 
 her dagger where she had lately flung it in a corner, she picked 
 it up and returned it to its sheath which still hung at her waist, 
 then she pulled down a long trail of climbing roses from the 
 wall, and came to lay them on the breast of the irrespousivo 
 17*
 
 198 BARABBAS 
 
 dead. As she approached, a sudden brilliant luminance af- 
 frighted her, she started back, one hand involuntarily uplifted 
 to shade her eyes. A Cross of light, deep red and dazzling as 
 fire, hovered horizontally in the air immediately above the 
 body of Judas, spreading its glowing rays outward on every 
 side. She beheld it with amazement, it glittered before her 
 more brightly than the brightest sunbeams, her fevered and 
 wandering wits, not yet quite gone, recognised it as some 
 miracle beyond human comprehension, and on the merest im- 
 pulse she stretched forth her hands full of the just gathered 
 rose- clusters in an effort to touch that lustrous, living flame. 
 As she did so, a blood-like hue fell on her, she seemed to be 
 enveloped in a crimson mist that stained the whiteness of her 
 garments and the fairness of her skin, and cast a ruddier tint 
 than nature placed among the loosened tresses of her hair. 
 The very roses that she held blushed into scarlet, while the 
 wazen pallid features of the dead, had for a little space a glow 
 as of returning life. For one or two minutes the mystic glory 
 blazed, then vanished, leaving the air dull and heavy with a 
 sense of loss. And Judith standing paralysed with wonder, 
 watched it disappear, and saw at the same time that a change 
 had taken place in the aspect of her self-slain brother. The 
 lips that had been drawn apart in the last choking agony of 
 death were pressed together in a solemn smile, the eyes that 
 had stared aloft so fearfully were closed. Seeing this, she 
 began to weep and laugh hysterically, and flinging her rose- 
 garland across the still figure, she stooped and kissed that ice- 
 cold smiling mouth. 
 
 " Judas, Judas !" she said in smothered sobbing accents 
 "Now thou art gone to sleep, without a word, without a 
 blessing,- thou wilt not even look at me 1 Ah cruel ! never- 
 theless I do forgive thee, for surely thou art very weary, else 
 thou would'st not lie here so quietly beneath the stars. I will 
 let thee sleep on, I will not wake thee till the morning dawns. 
 At full daybreak I will come again and see that all is well with 
 thee, thou churlish one ! good-night 1" and she waved kisses 
 to the dead man smilingly with the tears blinding her eyes 
 " Good-night, my brother ! I will return soon and bring thee 
 news yea, I will bring thee pleasing news of Caiaphas, . . . 
 good- night I ... sleep well !" 
 
 And still waving fond and fantastic salutations, she moved 
 backward lightly on tip-toe step by step, her gaze fixed to tho 
 last on the now composed and beauteous face of the corpse,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 199 
 
 then passing under the great portico, she noiselessly unfastened 
 the gate, and wandered out in all her distracted and dishevelled 
 beauty into the silent streets of the city alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXL 
 
 THE full Sabbath morning broke in unclouded loveliness, 
 and all the people of Jerusalem flocked to the gorgeous Temple 
 on Mount Moriah to see and to be seen, and to render their 
 formal thanks to the most High Jehovah for their escape from 
 all the threatening horrors of the previous day. Some there 
 were who added to their prayers the unconscious blasphemy of 
 asking God to pardon them for having allowed the " Nazarene" 
 to live even so long as He had done seeing that His doctrines 
 were entirely opposed to the spirit and the faith of the nation. 
 Yet, all the same, a singular lack of fervour marked the solemn 
 service, notwithstanding that in the popular opinion there was 
 everything to be thankful for. The veil of the "Holy of 
 Holies," rent in the midst, hung before the congregation as a 
 sinister reminder of the terrors of the past thunder-storm, 
 earthquake and deep darkness ; and the voice of the high-priest 
 Caiaphas grew wearily monotonous and indistinct long before 
 the interminable morning ritual was ended. Something seemed 
 missing, there appeared to be no longer any meaning in the 
 usually imposing " reading of the law," there was a vacancy 
 and dulness in the whole ceremonial which left a cold and 
 cheerless impression upon the minds of all. When the crowd 
 poured itself forth again from the different gates, many groups 
 wended their way out of sheer curiosity to the place where 
 the "Prophet of Nazareth" was now ensepulchred, for the 
 story of Joseph of Arimathea's "boldly" going to claim the 
 body from Pilate, and the instant vigilance of Caiaphas in 
 demanding that a watch should be set round the tomb, had 
 already been widely rumoured thoughout the city. 
 
 " We never h^ad a more discreet and shrewd high-priest," 
 said one man, pausing in the stately King's Portico to readjust 
 the white linen covering on his head more carefully before 
 stepping out into the unshaded heat and glare of the open
 
 200 BARABBAS 
 
 road, " He hath conducted this matter with rare wisdom, for 
 surely the ' Nazarene's' disciples would have stolen His body, 
 rather than have Him proved a false blasphemer for the second 
 time." 
 
 " Ay, thou sayest truly I" answered his companion " And 
 the whole crew of them are in Jerusalem at this time, an 
 ill-assorted dangerous rabble of the common folk of Galilee. 
 Were I Caiaphas, I would find means of banishing these 
 rascals from the city under pain of death." 
 
 " One hath banished himself" said the first speaker, 
 " Thou hast doubtless heard of the end of young Judas 
 Iscariot ?" 
 
 The other man nodded. 
 
 " Judas was mad," he said, " Nothing in life could satisfy 
 him, he was ever prating of reforms and clamouring for truth. 
 Such fellows are not fitted for the world." 
 
 " Verily he must himself have come to that conclusion" 
 remarked his friend with a grave smile, as he slowly descended 
 the Temple steps, " and so thinking, left the world with most 
 determined will. He was found hanging to the branch of a 
 tree close by the garden of Gethsemane, and last night his body 
 was borne home to his father's house." 
 
 " But have ye heard no later news?" chimed in another man 
 who had listened to the little conversation, " Iscariot hath 
 had another grief which hath driven him well-nigh distracted. 
 He hath lost his chiefest treasure, his pampered and too-much 
 beloved daughter, and hath been to every neighbour seeking 
 news of her and finding none. She hath left him in the night 
 suddenly, and whither she hath gone no one can tell." 
 
 By this time the group of gossips had multiplied, and startled 
 wondering looks were exchanged among them all. 
 
 " His daughter 1" echoed a bystander " Surely 'tis not 
 possible! The proud Judith? Wherefore should she have 
 fled ?" 
 
 " Who can say ! She swooned last night at seeing her dead 
 brother, and was carried unconscious to her bed. There her 
 maidens watched her, but in their watching, slept, and when 
 at last they wakened, she was gone." 
 
 The listeners shook their heads dubiously as not knowing 
 what to make of it; and murmuring vague expressions of 
 compassion for Iscariot, " a worthy man and wealthy, who 
 deserved not this affliction," as they said, went slowly, talking 
 aa they went, homeward on their various ways.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 201 
 
 Meanwhile, a considerable number of people had gathered 
 together in morbid inquisitiveness round the guarded burial- 
 place of the " Nazarene." It was situate in a wild and pictur- 
 esque spot between two low hills, covered with burnt brown 
 turf and bare of any foliage, and in itself presented the 
 appearance of a cave deeply hollowed out in the natural rock. 
 Rough attempts at outward adornment had been made in the 
 piling-up of a few sparkling blocks of white granite in pyra- 
 midal form on the summit, and these glittered just now like 
 fine crystals in the light of the noonday sun. The square cut- 
 ting that served as entrance to the tomb was entirely closed by 
 a huge stone fitting exactly into the aperture, and between 
 this stone and the rock itself was twisted a perfect network of 
 cords, sealed in about a hundred places with the great seal of 
 the Sanhedrim council. Round the sepulchre, on every side 
 were posted the watch, consisting of about fifteen soldiers picked 
 out from a special band of one hundred, and headed by a 
 formidable-looking centurion of muscular build and grim 
 visage, who, as the various groups of idle spectators approached 
 to look at the scene, eyed them with fierce disfavour. 
 
 " By the gods !" he growled to one of his men " What a 
 filthy and suspicious race are these cursed Jews ! Lo you, how 
 they sneak hither staring and whispering ! Who knows but 
 they think we ourselves may make away with the body of the 
 man they crucified yesterday ! Worthily do they match their 
 high-priest in cautious cowardice ! Never was such a panic 
 about a corpse before 1" 
 
 And he tramped to and fro sullenly in front of the tomb, 
 his lance and helmet gleaming like silver in the light, the while 
 he kept his eyes obstinately fixed on the ground determined not 
 to honour by so much as a glance the scattered sightseers who 
 loitered aimlessly about, staring without knowing what they 
 stared at, but satisfied at any rate in their own minds, that 
 here assuredly there was no pretence at keeping a watch, 
 these were real soldiers, unimaginative callous men for whom 
 the " Nazarene" was no more than a Jew reformer who had 
 met his death by the ordinance of the law. 
 
 By and by as the sun grew hotter, the little knots of people 
 dispersed, repeating to one another as they sauntered along, 
 the various wonderful stories told of the miracles worked by 
 the dead " Prophet out of Nazareth I" 
 
 " How boldly he faced Pilate I" said one. 
 
 " Ay ! and how grandly he died 1"
 
 202 BARABBAS 
 
 " 'Tis ever the way with such fellows as he" declared 
 another " They run uiad with much thinking, and death is 
 nothing to them, for they believe that they will live again." 
 
 So conversing, and alluding occasionally to the tragic inci- 
 dents that had attended the sublime death-scene on Calvary, 
 they strolled citywards, and only one of all the straggling spec- 
 tators was left behind, a man in the extreme of age, bent and 
 feeble and wretchedly clad, who supported himself on a crutch 
 and lingered near the sepulchre, casting timorous and appealing 
 glances at the men on guard. Galbus, the centurion, observed 
 him and frowned angrily. 
 
 " What doest thou here, thou Jew skeleton ?" he demanded 
 roughly " Off with thee 1 Bring not thy sores and beggary 
 into quarters with the soldiers of Home." 
 
 " Sir, sir" faltered the old man anxiously " I ask no 
 alms. I do but seek thy merciful favour to let me lay my 
 hands upon the stone of yonder tomb, . . . once, only once, 
 good sir ! the little maid is sorely ailing, and methinks to 
 touch the stone and pray there would surely heal her sick- 
 ness" He broke off, trembling all over and stretching out 
 his wrinkled hands wistfully. 
 
 Galbus stared contemptuously. 
 
 What dost thou jabber of?" ho asked" The little maid ? 
 what little maid ? And what avail this touching of a stone ? 
 Thou'rt in thy dotage, man ; get hence and cure thy wits, 
 'tis they that should be healed right speedily !" 
 
 " Sir 1" cried the old man almost weeping " The little maid 
 trill die 1 Look you, good soldier, 'tis but a week agone that 
 He who lies within that tomb, did take her in His arms and 
 bless her ; she is but three years old and passing fair. And 
 now she hath been stricken with the fever, and methought 
 could I but touch the stone of yonder sepulchre and say 
 ' Master, I pray thee heal the child,' He, though He be dead, 
 would hear and answer me. For He was ever pitiful for sor- 
 row, and He was gentle with the little maid." 
 
 Galbus flushed red, there was a strange contraction in his 
 throat of which he did not approve, and there was also a burning 
 moisture in his eyes which was equally undesired. Something 
 in this piteous old man's aspect, as well as the confiding sim- 
 plicity of his faith touched the fierce soldier to an emotion of 
 which he was ashamed. Raising his lance he beckoned him 
 nearer. 
 
 " Come hither, thou aged madman," he said with affected
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 203 
 
 roughness " Keep close to me, under my lifted lance, thou 
 mayest lay hands upon the stone for one brief minute, take 
 heed thou break not the Sanhedrim seals ! And let thy prayer 
 for thy little maid be of most short duration, though take my 
 word for it thou art a fool to think that a dead man hath ears 
 to hearken thy petition. Nevertheless, come." 
 
 Stumbling along and breathless with eagerness the old man 
 obeyed. Close to the sacred sepulchre he came, Galbus guarding 
 his every movement with vigilant eye, and humbly kneel- 
 ing down before the sealed stone he laid his aged hands 
 upon it. 
 
 "Lord, if thou wilt" he said "Thou canst save the little 
 maid 1 Say but the word and she is healed." 
 
 One minute he knelt thus, then he rose with a glad light 
 in his dim old eyes. 
 
 " Most humbly do I thank thee, sir !" he said to the cen- 
 turion, uncovering his white locks and bowing meekly " May 
 God reward thee for thy mercy unto me !" 
 
 Galbus gazed at him curiously from under his thick black 
 eyebrows. 
 
 " Of what province art thou?" 
 
 " Sir, of Samaria." 
 
 " And thinkest thou in very truth thou hast obtained a 
 miracle from that tomb ?" 
 
 " Sir, I know nothing of the secret ways divine. But sure 
 I am the little maid is saved. God be with thee, soldier 1 ... 
 God guide thy lance and evermore defend thee !" 
 
 And with many expressive salutations of gratitude he tot- 
 tered away. 
 
 Galbus looked after him meditatively, till his thin raggedly- 
 clothed figure had fluttered out of sight like a fluttering with- 
 ered leaf, then the grim Roman shook his head profoundly, 
 pulled his beard, laughed, frowned, passed his hand across his 
 eyes, and finally, having conquered whatever momentary soft 
 emotion had possessed him, glanced about him severely and sus- 
 piciously to see that all his men were in their several places. 
 The noonday heat and glare had compelled them to move into 
 their tents which were ranged all round the sepulchre in an 
 even snowy ring, and Galbus, seeing this, quickly followed 
 their example, and himself retired within the shelter of his 
 own particular pavilion. This was pitched directly opposite the 
 stone which closed the mystic tomb, and as the burly cen- 
 turion sat down and lifted his helmet to wipe his hot face, ho
 
 204 BARABBAS 
 
 muttered an involuntary curse on the sultriness and barren soil 
 of Judaea, and wished himself heartily back in Rome. 
 
 " For this is a country of fools" he soliloquised " And 
 worse still 'tis a country of cowards. These Jews were afraid 
 of the ' Nazarene' as they call Him, while He lived ; and now 
 it seems they are more afraid of Him still when He is dead. 
 Well, well ! 'tis a thing to laugh at, a Roman will kill his 
 enemy, true enough, but being killed he will salute the corpse 
 and leave it to the gods without further fear or passion." 
 
 At that moment an approaching stealthy step startled him. 
 He sprang up, shouldered his lance and stood in the doorway of 
 his tent expectant ; a tall man muffled in a purple cloak con- 
 fronted him, it was Caiaphas who surveyed him austerely. 
 
 " Dost thou keep good watch, centurion ?" he demanded. 
 
 " My vigilance hath never been questioned, sir," responded 
 Galbus stiffly. 
 
 Caiaphas waved his hand deprecatingly. 
 
 " I meant not to offend thee, soldier, but there are knaves 
 about, and I would have thee wary." 
 
 He dropped his mantle, disclosing a face that was worn and 
 haggard with suffering and want of sleep, then, stepping close 
 up to the sepulchre he narrowly examined all the seals upon 
 the stone. They were as he had left them on the previous 
 evening, untouched, unbroken. 
 
 " Hast thou heard any sound ?" he asked in a whisper. 
 
 Galbus stared. 
 
 " From within yonder ?" he said, pointing with his lance at 
 the tomb " Nay ! never have I heard voice proceed from any 
 dead man yet." 
 
 Caiaphas forced a smile, nevertheless he bent his ear 
 against the stone and listened. 
 
 " What of the night ?" he queried anxiously " Were ye 
 interrupted in your first watch ?" 
 
 "By the baying of dogs at the moon, and the hooting of 
 owls only" replied Galbus disdainfully, " And such inter- 
 ruptions, albeit distasteful, are not to be controlled." 
 
 " I meant not these things" said Caiaphas, turning upon 
 him vexedly " I thought the women might have lingered, 
 making lamentation" 
 
 " Women have little chance where I am," growled Galbus, 
 " True, they did linger, till I sent them off. Yet I treated 
 them with kindness for they were weeping sorely, foolish souls, 
 the sight of death doth ever move them strangely, and
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 205 
 
 'twas a passing beauteous corpse o'er which they made their 
 useless outcry. Nevertheless I am not a man to find console - 
 ments for such grief, I bade them mourn at home ; the tears 
 of women do provoke me more than blows." 
 
 Caiaphas stood lost in thought, anon he stooped again to 
 listen at the sealed-up door of the sepulchre. Galbus, watch- 
 ing him, laughed. 
 
 " By the gods, sir," he said " One would think thou wert 
 the chief believer in the dead man's boast that he would rise 
 again ! What hearest thou ? Prithee say ! a message from 
 the grave would be rare news !" 
 
 Caiaphas deigned no reply. Muffling himself again iu his 
 mantle, he asked 
 
 " When does the watch change?" 
 
 " In an hour's time," replied Galbus " Then I, together 
 with my men, rest for a space, in such heat as this, rest is 
 deserved." 
 
 " And when dost thou return again ?" 
 
 " To-night at moonrise." 
 
 "To-night at moonrise 1" echoed Caiaphas thoughtfully. 
 " Mark my words, Galbus, watch thy men and guard thyself 
 from sleeping. To-night use double vigilance ! for when to- 
 night is past, then fears are past, and when to-morrow's sun 
 doth shine, and he, the 'Nazarene,' is proved again a false 
 blasphemer to the people, then will all watching end. Thou 
 wilt be well rewarded, watch, I say, to-night ! far more to- 
 night than any hour of to-day. Thou hearest me ?" 
 
 Galbus nodded. 
 
 " I have heard much of the truth and circumspectness of 
 the soldiery of Rome" proceeded Caiaphas smiling darkly 
 " And specially of warriors like thee, who have the mastery 
 of a hundred men, from which this present watch is chosen. 
 Take heed therefore to do thy calling and thy country justice, 
 so shall thy name be carried on the wings of praise to Caesar. 
 Fare-thee-well 1" 
 
 He moved away then paused, listening doubtfully, with 
 head turned back over his shoulder towards the tomb. 
 
 " Art thou sure thou hast heard nothing ?" he asked 
 again. 
 
 Galbus lost patience. 
 
 " By the great name of the Emperor I serve and by the 
 lance I carry," he exclaimed, striking his heel on the groundj 
 " I swear to thee, priest, nothing nothing !" 
 18
 
 206 BARABBAS 
 
 *" Thou hast hot blood, soldier" returned Caiaphas sedately 
 '' Beware lest it lead thee into error 1" 
 
 And he paced slowly down the dusty road and disappeared. 
 Galbus watched his retreating form with an irrepressible disgust 
 written on every feature of his face. One of his men ap- 
 proached him. 
 
 " 'Twas the Jewish high-priest that spoke with thee ?" 
 
 "Ay, 'twas even he" he responded briefly "Either I 
 choke in his presence, or the dust kicked up by his holy sandals 
 hath filled me with a surpassing thirst. Fetch me a cup of 
 wine." 
 
 The man obeyed, getting the required beverage out of the 
 provision tent. 
 
 "Ah, that washes the foul taste of the Jew out of my 
 mouth" said Galbus, drinking heartily, " Methinks our 
 Emperor hath got a beggarly province here in Judaea. Why, 
 if history have any truth in it, 'tis the custom of this people 
 to be conquered and sold into slavery. I believe of all my 
 hundred, thou dost know thy lessons best, Vorsinius, have 
 not these Jews been always slaves ?" 
 
 Vorsinius, a young soldier with a fair intelligent countenance, 
 smiled. 
 
 " I would not say so much as that, good Galbus," he replied 
 modestly " but methinks they have never been heroes." 
 
 " No, nor will they ever be," said Galbus, draining his cup 
 and shaking the dregs out on the ground " Such names as 
 hero and Jew consort not well together. What other nation 
 in the world than this one would insist on having a watch set 
 round a tomb lest perchance a dead man should rise 1" 
 
 He laughed, and the good-humoured Vorsinius laughed with 
 him. Then they resumed their respective posts, and moved no 
 more till in an hour's time the watch was changed. But save 
 for the clanking of armour as one party of soldiers marched 
 away into the city, and the other detachment took its place, the 
 deep and solemn silence round the sealed sepulchre remained 
 nnbrokeu.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDF 207 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXII. 
 
 MEANWHILE Barabbas sitting with his friend Melchior in 
 the best room of the inn where that mysterious personage had 
 his lodging, was endeavouring to express his thanks for the 
 free and ungrudging hospitality that had been afforded him. 
 He had supped well, slept well, and breakfasted well, and all 
 at the cost and care of this new acquaintance with whom, as 
 might be said, he was barely acquainted, moreover the very 
 garments he wore were Melchior's and not his own. 
 
 " If thou seekest a man to work, I will work for thee" he 
 said now, fixing his large bold black eyes anxiously on the 
 dark enigmatical face of his voluntary patron, " But unless 
 thou can'st make use of my strength in service, I can never 
 repay thee. I have no kinsfolk in the world, mother and 
 father are dead long since, and well for them that it is so, for 
 I should have doubtless been their chief affliction. Once I 
 could make a boast of honesty, I worked for the merchant 
 Shadeen, and though I weighed out priceless gems and golden 
 ingots I never robbed him by so much as a diamond chip until 
 until the last temptation. If thou wilt ask him, he will I 
 know say this of me for he was sorrier for my sin than I 
 had heart to be. I have some little knowledge of books and 
 old philosophies, and formerly I had the gift of fluent speech, 
 but whatsoever I might have been I am not now, my 
 hands are stained with blood and theft, and though the peo- 
 ple set me free, full well I know I am an outcast from true 
 liberty. Nevertheless thou hast fed me, housed me, clothed 
 me, and told me many wise and wondrous things, wherefore 
 out of gratefulness, which I lack not, and bounden duty, I am 
 fain to serve thee and repay thee, if thou wilt only teach me 
 how." 
 
 Melchior, leaning back on a low window-seat, surveyed him 
 placidly from under his half-closed eyelids, a faint smile on his 
 handsome mouth. 
 
 "Friend Barabbas," he responded lazily, "thou owest me 
 nothing on the contrary, 'tis I that owe thee much. Thou 
 art a type of man, even as I also am a type of man, and I 
 have derived much benefit from a study of thy complex parts, 
 more benefit perchance than is discovered in the ' old philos-
 
 208 BARABBAS 
 
 ophies' wherewith thou fanciest thou art familiar. Mark thou 
 the difference betwixt us ! though seemingly our composition 
 is the same dull mortal clay. Thou art poor, thou hast but 
 yester morn left prison, naked and ashamed, I am rich, not 
 by the gifts of men, which things I spurn, or by the leavings 
 of the dead ; but by the work of mine own brain, man's only 
 honest breadwinner. I have never found my way to prison, 
 as I despise all roads that lead one thither. They are foul, 
 therefore, loving cleanness, I tread not in them. Thou, made 
 animal man, and ignorant of the motive power of brain that 
 masters matter, did'st at the bidding of mere fleshly lust re- 
 sign thine honour for a woman's sake, I, made intelligent 
 man, do keep my honour for my own sake, and for the carry- 
 ing out of higher laws which I perceive exist. Nevertheless 
 thou art truer man than I. Thou art the type of sheer brute 
 manhood, against which Divine Spirit for ever contends." 
 
 He paused ; and lifting his head from its recumbent posi- 
 tion, smiled again. 
 
 " What wilt thou do for me, Barabbas ?" he continued lightly 
 . " Draw water, till the soil, shake my garments free from 
 dust, or other such slavish service? Go to! I would not 
 have thee spoil thy future ! Take my advice and journey thou 
 to Rome, I'll fill thy pouch with coin, settle thyself as 
 usurer there and lend out gold to Caesar! Lend it freely, 
 with monstrous interest accumulating, for the use of the Im- 
 perial whims, battles, buildings, and wantons ! So get thee 
 rich and live honourably, none will ask of thee ' wert thou 
 thief?' ' wert thou murderer ?' No ! for the Emperor will 
 kiss thy sandal and put on thee his choicest robe, and all 
 thou hast to do ia to keep his name upon thy books and never 
 let it go. 'Ave Caesar Imperator' is the keynote of the 
 Roman shouting but Caesar's whisper in thine ear will have 
 more meaning ' Hail, Barabbas, King of the Jews ! rich, 
 Barabbas, who doth lend me money, noble Barabbas, whoi 
 willingly reneweth bills, powerful Barabbas, who doth hold 
 the throne and dynasty by a signature !' " 
 
 He laughed, the while his companion stared at him fas- 
 cinated and half afraid. 
 
 " Or," pursued Melchior, " wilt thou by preference make 
 friends with frenzied Peter, and join the disciples of the 
 'Nazarene'?" 
 
 " Not with Peter no !" exclaimed Barabbas in haste, " I 
 ike him not, he is not certain of his faith. And of the 
 
 H,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 209 
 
 other men who came from Galilee I knew naught, save that 
 they all forsook their Master. JLwould have followed the 
 ' Nazarene' Himself into the blackest hell ! but His followers 
 are coward mortals and He" 
 
 " Was Divine, thiukest thou ?" asked Melchior, fixing upon 
 him a look of searching gravity. 
 
 Barabbas met his gaze steadily for a moment, then his own 
 eyes fell and he sighed deeply. 
 
 " I know not what to think," he confessed at last. " When 
 I first beheld Him, He did in very truth seem all Divine ! 
 then. the glory vanished, and only a poor patient suffering 
 Man stood there, where I, faint from the prison famine and 
 distraught of fancy, imagined I had seen an Angel ! Then 
 when He died ah then, my soul was shaken ! for to the 
 very last I hoped against all hope, surely, I said, a God can 
 never die. And now, if thou wilt have the truth, I judge 
 Him as a martyred Man, of glorious beauty, of heroic char- 
 acter, one worthy to follow, to love, to serve ; . . . but . . . 
 if He had been indeed a God, He could not thus hava 
 died !" 
 
 Melchior leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand and 
 studying him curiously. 
 
 -JV Knowest thou, excellent Barabbas, what is this death?" 
 he asked " Among the ' old philosophies' thou readest, hast 
 mastered aught concerning its true nature ?" 
 
 " All men know what it is" replied Barabbas drearily 
 u A choking of the breath, a blindness of the eyes, dark- 
 ness, silence, and an end !" 
 
 "Nay, not an end, but a beginning!" said Melchior rising 
 and confronting him, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm 
 " That choking of the breath, that blindness of the eyes 
 these are the throes of birth, not death ! Even as the new- 
 born child struggles for air, and cannot too suddenly endure 
 the full unshaded light of day, so does the new-born soul 
 that struggles forth from out its fleshly womb, fight gaspingly 
 for strength to take its first deep breathings-in of living glorv. 
 A darkness and a silence, sayest thou ? Not so ! a radiance 
 and a music ! a wondrous clamour of the angels' voices ringing 
 out melodies aloft like harps in tune ! And of the spirit lately 
 parted from the earth, they ask ' What bringest thou ? 
 What message dost thou bear? Hast thou made the sad 
 world happier, wiser, fairer?' and over all, the deathless 
 Voice of Marvel thunders ' Soul of a man ! What hast
 
 210 BARABBAS 
 
 thou done?' And that great question must be met and an- 
 swered, and no Lie will serve !" 
 
 Barabbas gazed at him, awed, but incredulous. 
 
 " This is the faith of Egypt ?" he asked. 
 
 Melchior eyed him with a touch of scorn. 
 
 "The faith of Egypt 1" he echoed "'Tis not faith, 'tis 
 knowledge ! Knowledge gained through faith. 'Tis no more 
 of Egypt than of any land, 'tis a truth, and as a truth is 
 universal, a truth the ' Nazarene' was born to make most 
 manifest. The world is never ripe for truth, how should it 
 be, so long as it is well content to build its business and its 
 social life on lies !" 
 
 He paused, and recovering from his momentary excitement, 
 went on in his coldest and most satirical tone 
 I " Worthy Barabbas, thou, like the world, art most unfitted 
 for the simplest learning, despite thine 'old philosophies.' Such 
 common facts as that there are millions upon millions of eternal 
 worlds, and millions upon millions of eternal forms of life, would 
 but confuse thy brain and puzzle it. Thou art a mass of matter, 
 unpermeated by the fires of the spirit, and were I to tell thee 
 that the ' Nazarene' has ' died" according to the common word, 
 only to prove there is no death at all, thy barbarous mind would 
 be most sore perplexed and troubled. Thou hast not yet obtained 
 the mastery of this planet's laws, thou'rt brute man merely, 
 though now, methinks thou'rt more like some fierce tiger disap- 
 pointed of its mate, for thou can'st not wed thy Judith"-fr 
 
 Barabbas interrupted him with a fierce gesture. 
 
 " I would not wed her now !" 
 
 " No ? Thou would'st rather murder Caiaphas ?" 
 
 Barabbas shuddered. His black brows met in a close frown, 
 his lips were pressed together hard, and his eyes were almost 
 hidden under their brooding lids. 
 
 " I have already blood upon my hands," he muttered " And 
 the man I killed Gabrias was innocent, my God ! inno- 
 cent as a dove compared to this wolfish priest who works hia 
 evil will by treachery and cunning. Nevertheless since I be- 
 held the ' Nazarene'' " 
 
 " Why should the ' Nazarene' affect thee ?" asked Melchior 
 placidly " A martyred Man, thou sayest no more, thou 
 can'st be sorry for Him as for many another and forget." 
 
 Barabbas lifted his eyes. 
 
 " I cannot take a human life again," he said solemnly, his 
 voice trembling a little " since I have looked upon His face 1"
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 211 
 
 Molchior was silent. 
 
 A long pause ensued, then Barabbas resumed in calmer 
 tones 
 
 " If thou wilt give me leave, I will go forth and ask for news 
 of old Iscariot, and of his daughter, for though I may not, 
 would not wed her, because my own great sins and hers 
 have set up an everlasting barrier between us, I love her, 
 Heaven help me, still. I have slept late and heard nothing, 
 wherefore to ease my mind concerning her, I will inquire how 
 atie fares. I would I could forget the face of the dead Judas !" 
 
 A tremor ran through him, and he moved restlessly. 
 
 "'Twas a face to be remembered" said Melchior medita- 
 tively " Set in the solemn shadows of the trees, 'twas a pale 
 warning to the world ! Nevertheless, despite its frozen tragedy, 
 it was not all despair. Remorse was written in its staring eyes, 
 remorse, repentance ; and for true repentance, God hath 
 but one reply pity, and pardon 1" 
 
 " Thinkest thou in very truth his sin will be forgiven ?" ex- 
 claimed Barabbas eagerly. 
 
 " Not by the world that drove him to that sin's committal"/ 
 answered Melchior bitterly " The world that hunts men 
 down to desperation, hath no pity for the desperate. But 
 God's love never falters. even the trembling soul of Judas 
 may find shelter in that hjvej'* 
 
 His voice grew very sweet and grave, and a sudden moisture 
 dimmed Barabbas's eyes. 
 
 " Thy words do comfort me," he murmured huskily, ashamed 
 of his emotion " albeit I have been told that God is ever a 
 God of vengeance. But Judas was so young, . . . and Ju- 
 dith" He broke off then added whisperingly " I forgot 
 he bled at her touch ! 'twas horrible horrible, that stain of 
 blood on her white fingers !" 
 
 Melchior said nothing, and Barabbas, after a minute or two, 
 rose up to go out. 
 
 " I must breathe the air" he said abruptly " The heat 
 within the house doth choke me. I will ask where the ' Naza- 
 rene' is buried, and go thither." 
 
 " Why ?" inquired Melchior " Since thou believest not in 
 Him, what is He to thee ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell" answered Barabbas slowly <l Something 
 there is that draws me to the thought of Him, but what it is 
 I cannot yet discover. If I believe not in Him as a God, 'tis 
 because what I hear of Him doth pass all human understand-
 
 212 BARABBAS 
 
 ing. Even what thou hast briefly told me doth utterly COD- 
 found all reason, the miracle of His birth when His mother 
 Mary was a virgin, how can I credit this? 'Tis madness j 
 and my soul rejects that which I cannot comprehend." 
 
 " Did I not tell thee what a type thou wert and art ?" said 
 Melchior " A type of man unspiritualised, and therefore only 
 half instructed. If thou rejectest what thou can'st not com- 
 prehend, thou must reject the whole wide working of the uni- 
 verse ! ' Where wast thou, 1 God said unto His servant Job, 
 ' when I laid the foundations of the earth f Declare if thou 
 hast understanding ? . . . Hast thou commanded the morning 
 since thy days T Alas, most profound and reasonable Barab- 
 bas ! if thou dost wait till thou can'st ' comprehend' the mys- 
 teries of the Divine Will, thou wilt need to grope through 
 aeons upon aeons of eternal wonder, living a thinking life through 
 all, and even then not reach the inner secret. (jComprehendest 
 thou how the light finds its sure way to the dry seed in the 
 depths of earth and causes it to fructify ? or how, imprisoning 
 itself within drops of water and grains of dust, it doth change 
 these things of ordinary matter into diamonds which queens 
 covet ? Thou art not able to ' comprehend' these simplest facts 
 of simple nature, and nature being but the outward reflex of 
 God's thought, how should'st thou understand the workings 
 of His interior Spirit which is Himself in all ? Whether He 
 create a world, or breathe the living Essence of His own Di- 
 vinity into aerial atoms to be absorbed in flesh and blood, and 
 born as Man of virginal Woman, He hath the power supreme 
 to do such things, if such be His great pleasure. Talkest thou 
 of miracles? thou art thyself a miracle, thou livest in a 
 miracle, the whole world is a miracle, and exists in spite of 
 thee 1 Go thy ways, man; search out truth in thine own 
 fashion ; but if it should elude thee, blame not the truth which 
 ever is, but thine own witlessness which cannot grasp it !^ 
 
 Barabbas stood silent, strangely moved and startled by the 
 broadness of his new friend's theories. 
 
 " I would I could believe in such a God as thou dost picture !" 
 he said softly " One who doth indeed love us, and whom we 
 could love !" 
 
 He paused and sighed ; then on a sudden impulse, ap- 
 proached Melchior and taking his hand, kissed it. 
 
 " I know not who thou art," he said " but thy words are 
 brave and bold, and to me thou hast been more than generous. 
 Thou must consider me thy servant, for as I told thee I have
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 213 
 
 no other means of paying back the debt I owe thee. Suffer 
 me therefore to attend thee, at least till I find ways of work, 
 shall this be so ?" 
 
 Melchior smiled. 
 
 44 Thou shah do even as thou wilt, Barabbas, albeit I do not 
 need attendance. Myself hath been my bodyguard for years, 
 and I have never found a more discreet and faithful confi- 
 dant ! Nevertheless, to satisfy thy sudden-tender conscience, I 
 will accept thy service." 
 
 A look of relief that was almost happiness lightened Barab- 
 bas'c dark features, giving them a certain nobleness and beauty. 
 
 " I thank thee !" he said simply " Can I do aught now for 
 thee within the city ?" 
 
 " Thou cau'st bring me _news !" returned Melchior, fixing 
 his eyes upon him steadily " There may be some of highest 
 import. And mark me ! if thou dost visit the tomb of the 
 ' Nazarene,' take heed, thou wilt find it strongly guarded. 
 Quarrel not with those who watch, lest thou should'st be ac- 
 cused of some conspiracy to steal the corpse, the Jewish 
 priests are yet in terror, for the ' Nazarene' did swear that on 
 the ' third day,' that is, to-morrow, remember, to-morrow ! 
 He would riso again." 
 
 Barabbas stopped in the very act of leaving the room, and 
 turning on the threshold exclaimed ; 
 
 " Impossible ! Thou dost echo the last night's frenzy of 
 Peter ! Rise, living, from the grave ? Impossible I He can- 
 not !" 
 
 Melchior looked full at him. 
 
 " If Death be death, why truly He cannot," he responded, 
 " But if Death be Life, why then He can !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 WITH these last strange words ringing in his ears Barabbas 
 went out, wandering almost unseeingly in the open street, and 
 trying to concentrate his thoughts upon the things immediately 
 around him. Somehow he found this difficult. His mind was 
 in a dreamy whirl, and he could hardly realise the full extent 
 of all that had occurred to him within the short space of a
 
 214 BARABBAS 
 
 little more than twenty-four hours. Whole ages seemed to 
 have passed since the early morning of the previous day when 
 he had been released from prison and when the " Nazarene" 
 had been condemned to die. He had come out of his dungeon, 
 half delirious with joy at the prospect of freedom, believing 
 in Judith Iscariot and loving her as a man only loves once in 
 a lifetime. Now he knew her worthlessness, the unrepenting 
 vileness, treachery and corruption of her life, and though he 
 loved her still, he was perfectly aware that it was only because 
 he could not yet detach his soul from the clinging memory of 
 her bewitching bodily beauty, and this was a love, or rather a 
 passion, of which he was vaguely ashamed. Ashamed ? he, 
 a thief, a murderer, ashamed of anything ? Since when ? 
 Why, only since he had looked upon the " Nazarene." It 
 was strange ! with all the force of his strong though untutored 
 will, he tried to understand what singularly miraculous power 
 this " Man of Nazareth" possessed, that even now, now when 
 He was crucified and dead, he, Barabbas, should yet be curiously 
 conscious of His presence, and conscious too that this mystic 
 nearness of Him made all sin appear inexpressibly hateful and 
 humiliating. Sighing uneasily, and angry with himself for 
 being unable to comprehend his own feelings, he rambled about 
 the streets aimlessly at first, but afterwards, recollecting part 
 of his intention, he visited the house of Iscariot. There for 
 the first time he learned from the servants of the mysterious 
 disappearance of Judith. Sick at heart, he listened while the 
 man who had opened the gate told him that search had been 
 made everywhere throughout the city in vain, and that even 
 now, Iscariot himself was with Pilate the governor, seeking 
 for the help of the law to aid in the discovery of the missing 
 girl. The servant added in awestricken tones that they had 
 found the corpse of Judas uncovered, with a branch of roses 
 laid across it, and that the rope which had been round his 
 throat was gone. " 'Tis likely she hath taken it" he con- 
 cluded " Much grief perchance hath driven her distraught. 
 But wheresoever she hath wandered we can hear no tidings of 
 her." 
 
 " I will find her" said Barabbas" Tell her father when 
 he comes that I will never rest till I discover her. I will 
 f eek for her high and low, living or dead I will bring her 
 Lome." 
 
 He shuddered a little ao the word " dead" escaped his lips, 
 and the man who received his message was startled at the
 
 A r>REA\I OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 215 
 
 fierce expression of his hazard face, but nevertheless re- 
 sponded dismally that " these \\ure sore times of trouble," anu 
 also that the self-slain heir of the house, Judas, would bo 
 " buried to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow !" echoed Barabbas with a wild stare, scarcely 
 knowing what he said " Why, to-morrow they say the 
 ' Nazarene' will rise again ! Why bury Judas ? If one dead 
 man can come to life so can another !" 
 
 The servant really alarmed this time, shut to the gate with 
 *ut further parley, privately considering that everybody excep 
 himself was going mad, Barabbas in particular, while Barab- 
 bas on his part, perfectly reckless as to his appearance or man- 
 ner, stumbled blindly and giddily down the sunny street, seeing 
 nothing but the face of Judith as she had looked last night, 
 lifting up her burning eyes from the body of her dead brother, 
 and smiling distractedly on the stern disciple Peter from out 
 the golden shower of her hair. 
 
 " Gone gone ! and whither ?" he muttered as he went 
 " To Caiaphas ? Would she have sought out Caiaphas ?" 
 
 He checked his pace abruptly. The high-priest's palace was 
 not far off, he could see the lofty palms and thick-fbliaged 
 fig-trees of its private garden to which none had the entry 
 save the high-priest himself, but to obtain admittance even 
 to the outer court of the house without the excuse of somo 
 business of high sacerdotal importance, would, he knew, be 
 impossible. Moreover his very name, Barabbas, was sufficient 
 to exclude him hopelessly. He sat down on a bench by the 
 roadway and tried to think it out. There were no people 
 passing, the stillness of the Sabbath reigned throughout the 
 city. Resting his head between his two hands he pondered all 
 ways and means of obtaining access to Caiaphas, in vain, no 
 fortress was more impregnable than the high-priest's abode, 
 no one more haughtily unapproachable in his private capacity 
 than the high-priest in person. 
 
 " Nevertheless, he knows !" said Barabbas aloud, " He is 
 her lover, curse him ! and he knows where she hath fled. It 
 may be she is with him even now." 
 
 As he spoke he lifted his head, and saw that a woman had 
 paused near him and was looking at him wistfully. He recog- 
 nised her instantly, by her fair hair, her dreamy face, her 
 coarse grey linen gown knotted beneath her bosom by a hempen 
 girdle ; it was Mary of Magdala. Instinctively he rose up, 
 gazing at her as steadily as she gazed at him.
 
 216 BARABBAS 
 
 " Thou art Barabbas ?" she said in tremulous accents 
 " Thou art he who should have died yesterday iustead of our 
 Beloved 1" 
 
 Her voice moved him deeply. It was penetratingly sweet 
 and pathetic, there was a tremor in it that unnerved him. 
 He tried to remind himself that she was an evil woman, a 
 thing polluted, yet while he thought of this he grew in a 
 manner amazed at the limpid purity and beauty of her eyes. 
 They were of a singularly clear blue, but their wonderful 
 lustre seemed to be a brightness exhaled from inward tears. 
 
 " Thou should'st have died !" she repeated, and faintly 
 smiled " Sorrowful Barabbas !" 
 
 He looked at her in vague wonderment. 
 
 " Sorrowful I am in truth," he said " But what knowest 
 thou of my sorrow ? Surely I have good reason to be glad, 
 seing that I am free once more, at liberty to live my life out 
 to its end." 
 
 "And dost thou love thy life and liberty?" asked Mary 
 softly "Dost thou find the world so fair? Thou wert not 
 overburdened with rejoicing yesterday, when in the darkness 
 of the death of love, thou did'st kneel and weep with me !" 
 
 He did not answer her at once,^but stood regarding her with 
 a stern intentness. Suddenly he gave a gesture of pain and pity. 
 
 " woman 1" he exclaimed passionately " Beautiful as 
 thou art, why dost thou make of thy beauty degradation ? I 
 know thee ! who does not know thee ! accurst and outcast ! 
 go thy ways die even as Judas died, rather than live as 
 thou dost live 1" 
 
 She smiled, a strange sad smile, that like the pureness of 
 her eyes seemed born of weeping. 
 
 /* Friend, I have died !" she said " At my Lord's feet I 
 law down all my life. Men made me what I was ; God makes 
 me what^I am." 
 
 " THou art the Magdalen ;" responded Barabbas harshly 
 " And neither God nor man shall alter thee !" 
 
 She crossed her small hands on her bosom and bent her head. 
 
 " I was the Magdalen !" and she raised her eyes, full of 
 bright tears, to the quiet sky " Or, rather, of thy charity, say 
 I was that poor affrighted thing, hunted by devils, whom men 
 did torture into being Magdalen." 
 
 " Whom men did torture !" repeated Barabbas half angrily 
 " Woman, for all thy sins thou hast thyself to blame !" 
 
 Her lips quivered.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 217 
 
 <' Thou'rt man ;" she answered " Therefore as man thon 
 speakest. Lay all the burden upon woman, the burden of 
 sin, of misery, of shame, of tears ; teach her to dream of perfect 
 love, and then devour her by selfish lust, slay her by slow 
 tortures innumerable, cast her away and trample on her even 
 as a worm in the dust, and then when she hath perished, stand 
 on her grave and curse her, saying ' Thou wert to blame ! 
 thou fond, foolish, credulous trusting soul ! thou wert to blame 1 
 not I r) 
 
 Something in her vibrating accents struck to the heart of 
 Barabbas with a sense of reproach. He drooped his head 
 ashamed, and was silent. 
 
 "Hast thou a right to judge me?" she queried mildly; 
 " Art thou without sin ? Nevertheless, let us not idly re- 
 proach one another, I tell thee Magdalen, as Magdalen, is 
 dead; LJMary^ .live." 
 
 " What difference dost thou make in such wise 'twixt dead 
 and living!" murmured Barabbas with a troubled sigh. 
 
 "What difference?" echoed Mary " What difference is 
 there 'twixt the darkness and the light? The Mag-Jalen was 
 wilder than all furies, mad with the fires of hell, pursued 
 of devils, bereft of hope, and ignorant of God poor soul, 
 poor soul ! she died most piteously and painlessly, slain by a 
 word of pardon from the AJl-Forgiving 1 Oh, I cannot choose 
 but weep to think of it ! And Mary lives, Mary, who hath 
 discovered heaven in a broken heart, Mary, who builds up 
 aerial hopes from tears of patience, Mary, whose ears have 
 listened to the music of the Master's voice such music ! 
 sweeter than the sweetest song ! ' Go thy way,' He said 
 ' Sin no more !' high command ! 'Twas as a crown of 
 glory set upon me ! ' Sin no more !' How could I sin, re- 
 membering Him ! Who could look once upon Him, and return 
 from that fair light to darkness? Lo, I am newly born, and 
 trembling in the throes of life, half weeping, half afraid, but 
 full of love ! love for my Master and my king who hath for- 
 given me and blessed me !" 
 
 Her sweet voice had a rhythmic chime of mingled melan- 
 choly and triumph, and Barabbas listened, fascinated and won- 
 dering. Presently she came nearer to him. 
 
 " Thou dost not hate me, Barabbas? Or fear me?" 
 
 He looked at her fixedly. 
 
 " What the ' Nazarene' hath blessed, that I can neither hate 
 nor fear !"
 
 218 BARABBAS 
 
 A lovely smile irradiated her face, and her watchful regard 
 of him was like that of some meditative angel. 
 
 " Thou callest Him the ' Nazarene' as others do," she said 
 " because He came from Nazareth. Nevertheless He was 
 a God He is a God ! Knowest thou they say that He will 
 rise again ? but I believe not this. Truly His spirit may 
 arise ; but we shall never see Him more as we have seen Him. 
 And that is why last night I wept when they laid His fair body 
 in the tomb, the body cannot rise, I said, and though as pod- 
 like Spirit He will pass to Heaven, as Man He will appear no 
 more to us. This is the bitterness of death ; we never see 
 our loved ones as we knew them, in Hea^n theinfaces will be 
 strange !" 
 
 She paused, then went on 
 
 " Tell me, Barabbas, of thy grief, for grief thou hast most 
 visibly. I know of Judas and his death, is it for him thou 
 sorrowest?" 
 
 He met her earnest gaze for a moment in silence, then 
 moved by an impulse of confidence, told her of Judith's sudden 
 disappearance. 
 
 Mary listened attentively. 
 
 " 1 know her well by sight" she said " A fair proud girl, 
 beauteous and scornful ; once she did gather up her robes in 
 haste lest I should brush against them passing her. Thou 
 lovost her, Barabbas?" 
 
 He flushed and turned his head aside. 
 
 " I have loved her !" he answered. 
 
 " Doubtless she is all that is most perfect in a woman ?" 
 murmured Mary, half questioningly, half sadly, " Chaste, 
 holy, innocent and true?" 
 
 Her words stung him with keen agony. 
 
 " Would that she were !" he exclaimed wildly " But I will 
 not lie to thee. She is nothing! She hath been seized by 
 devils, such devils as did once move . . . Magdalen 1" 
 
 She started, turning very pale. 
 
 " Alas, Barabbas !" she said " Then is she most unhappy 
 and in far worse plight than thou ! I will aid thec in thy 
 search, it may be she hath wandered far beyond the city pre- 
 cincts. Hast thou been to Gethsemane, where her brother 
 died?" 
 
 " Not yet" he responded wearily " I will go thither now. 
 Where have they buried the ' Nazarene' ?" 
 
 She pointed towards the west.
 
 A DREAM Of THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 219 
 
 " Yonder, near Calvary" sbo said " In the sepulchre of 
 Joseph of Ariiuathea, between two barren hills. If thou 
 goest, thou wilt fiud it guarded. Caiaphas hath set a watch." 
 
 Barabbas shuddered at the name. 
 
 " Caiaphas !" he muttered between his set teeth " Always 
 Caiaphas !" And yet he could not bring himself to speak 
 of Judith in connection with the high-priest, and forbore to 
 give expression to his fear that the lost girl might even now 
 be with the haughty dignitary who was in secret her lover. 
 
 " I will go to Gethsemane" he repeated mechanically 
 " But the body of Judas was not found within the garden, but 
 outside, and his sister knoweth naught of the secret place of 
 shadows where he perished. Nevertheless I will make search 
 there, and I will visit the burial-place of the ' Nazarene' ere 
 sunset. If thou hearest any news, thou wilt bring it to me ?" 
 
 " Where shall I find thee?" asked Mary. 
 
 He gave her the name of the inn where he at present stayed 
 with his acquaintance, Melchior. 
 
 " I shall remember" she said " And if I see the strayed 
 girl anywhere I will follow her, and if I hear of her I will 
 track the rumour to its source. Meantime fare-thee-well ! If 
 thou dost truly visit my Lord's resting-place ere sunset, pray 
 for me, for the guard doth forbid me to approach I may not 
 now go thither until to-morrow." 
 
 "Until to-morrow!" echoed Barabbas, and looked at her 
 strangely. 
 
 " Even so, to-morrow," she repeated " "When the morn- 
 ing breaks, I shall take flowers and sweet fragrances to strew 
 upon the dead, they say the guard will be removed at dawn. 
 Farewell ! God comfort thee !" 
 
 And with a gentle inclination of her head, she wrapped her 
 mantle round her and glided softly and rapidly away. 
 
 Barabbas stood looking after her for a moment, lost in 
 thought ; and his lips unconsciously murmured over and over 
 again the word, 
 
 " To-morrow !" 
 
 Then, drawing his linen hood well over his brows that he 
 might not be recognised and detained by any of his former 
 acquaintances, he passed through the Sabbath-quieted streets 
 of the city, and out on the road that led towards Gethsemane.
 
 220 BARABBAS 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 COOL shadows greeted him as he approached the quaint 
 secluded garden which was now destined to be evermore re- 
 nowned in the world's history. A faint wind swung the heavy 
 foliage of the fig-trees with a solemn sound, and the clear brook 
 that ran between two low banks of moss and turf from which 
 some ancient olives grew, made subdued and soothing music. 
 Down here last night, here where the shelving ground dipped 
 towards the water, here where the fig-trees were dark with 
 their darkest bunches of thick leaves, Judas had been found 
 dead ; and it was with a dreary sense of ominous foreboding 
 that Barabbas came to the same place now, in gloomy expecta- 
 tion of some new disaster. Uneasily he lifted the overhanging 
 branches and peered among the flickering tints of dense and 
 luminous green, not a living creature was visible. He moved 
 to and fro softly, looking about him everywhere in vague search 
 for Judith, yet doubting all the while the possibility of find- 
 ing her in such a spot. Up and down he gazed wistfully, 
 now towards the winding path ascending to the Mount of 
 Olives, anon, backward to the shadowy depths of the Valley 
 of Kedron, and having reconnoitred all the visible landscape 
 immediately outside Gethsemane, he resolved to enter the gar- 
 den itself. He lifted the latch of the small wooden gate that 
 separated it from the road, and went in among the towering 
 palm-trees and climbing roses that there were made particular 
 objects of cultivation and grew in rich profusion in every avail- 
 able corner. As he wandered slowly along one of the moss- 
 grown paths, he paused to listen. Never, surely, was there such 
 a silence anywhere as here ! The murmur of the brook was lost, 
 the wind failed to stir so much as a small flutter among the 
 leaves, and the impressive stillness of the place was such, that 
 it seemed as if the voice of God had spoken, saying : " Here, 
 where My Beloved cried to Me in His agony, let there no more 
 be any earthly sound !" 
 
 Barabbas hesitated. Seized with a solemn fear, his presence 
 in the garden appeared to himself a strange intrusion, and after 
 a moment or two, he turned back, finding it impossible to pro- 
 ceed. He looked dreamily at the flowers around him ; roses, 
 red and pale, turned their faces upon him in apparent wonder-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 221 
 
 ment, a glowing cactus-tree confronted him, all in a seeming 
 angry blaze of bloom, the nodding ferns trembled as with 
 interior agitation, and every separate leaf and blade of grass, 
 he fancied, questioned him silently upon the nature of his 
 errand in tha sacred haunt, made wonderful by a God's un- 
 selfish sorrow. Word by word, all that the disciple Peter had 
 related concerning the last night spent by the " Nazarene" 
 within this same Gethsemane returned to his mind. 
 
 " Will He possess all things?" he murmured half aloud 
 " A Man of Nazareth, crucified and dead ? shall we not eveu 
 wander in this garden without His memory haunting us ?" 
 
 And he hastened his steps, anxious to leave the spot, although 
 he knew not why. A little way beyond where he stood, be- 
 yond the roses and the sentinel cactus-flowers, the dewy turf 
 still reverently bore the impress of a Form Divine that there 
 had fallen prone and wept for all the world, wept with such 
 tears as never yet had rained from mortal eyes, there too had 
 lighted for a little space, a great consoling Angel, and there 
 no human step had passed since the fair King of perfect Love 
 had gone forth patiently to die. 
 
 " Judith would not be here" Barabbas muttered, as he 
 left the garden, closing the gate noiselessly after him, " 'Twas 
 never a resort of hers, she would not think of coming hither." 
 
 He paused, his heart beating with an undefinable anxiety. 
 
 " No no, she would not dream of it" he repeated " If 
 sorrow hath distracted her, she might more likely have gone 
 towards Calvary, the scene of yesterday. I will visit the 
 tomb of the ' Nazarene' and inquire of the guard whether 
 she hath passed them by." 
 
 Thus resolved he walked on his way slowly, full of the most 
 bewildering thoughts. The question that reigned uppermost 
 in his mind, was, strange to say, not what had become of 
 Judith Iscariot, but what and who was the " Nazarene" ? 
 Why did His presence seem to permeate the very air? How 
 was He different to others, that one should not be able to 
 forget Him ? He was a Teacher of new doctrine, well, there 
 had been other teachers of new doctrine and would be many 
 more. He was brave and beautiful ; there were others brave 
 and beautiful likewise. He was not a hero as the world 
 accepts heroes, He had fought no battles, made no conquests, 
 and owned neither throne nor province. He was simply, or 
 appeared to be a very poor Man, who had been kind and sym- 
 pathetic to the sorrowful ; He had healed a few sick persons, 
 19*
 
 222 BAR ABB AS 
 
 and given the comforting hope of Heaven to those who had 
 no consolation upon earth. Where was the particular marvel 
 of these things ? A life so simple, so common, where was 
 its Divinity? Barabbas pondered the problem vainly, he 
 was not wise enough to comprehend that perhaps the greatest 
 miracle of the world is this same sort of "simple" and 
 "common" life, which is after all neither simple nor common, 
 but most truly complex and phenomenal. For nothing upon 
 earth is so singular as kindness, nothing so rare as sympathy, 
 nothing so absolutely unique, wonderful and purely Divine, 
 as ungrudging, unboastful, devoted, changeless Love that seeks 
 nothing for itself, but freely gives everything. What men call 
 love is often selfishness ; w'hat God accepts as love is the entire 
 and voluntary resignation of self for love's own sake. " In 
 losing thyself " He says " thou shalt find Me, and in find- 
 ing Me, thou wilt find all !" 
 
 But Barabbas had not the eyes to discern the spiritual side 
 of nature. He could only see what appeared on the surface 
 of life, of interior meanings he knew nothing. It puzzled 
 him to consider that the mysterious man Melchior, whether 
 he were Egyptian, Greek, or any other nationality, actually 
 accepted this Jesus of Nazareth as a God, without question. 
 Why ? Because if a God, how would it have been possible 
 for Him to die? 
 
 " I must know everything concerning Him" sighed Barab- 
 bas perplexedly " I must not accept mere rumour. When 
 Judith is found, and when all these present troubles are past, I 
 will go down to Nazareth, and obtain a true report. It shall 
 be my business j for if He were Messiah, then are our people 
 cursed for ever with the curse of God that passeth not away. 
 I will not take mere hearsay, I will prove things. As for 
 His rising from the dead, that cannot be" 
 
 Here, interrupting his meditations, he lifted his eyes to look 
 at the low hills in front of him. At the distance he now was, 
 he could plainly see the ring of white tents that circled the 
 tomb of the " Nazarene." 
 
 " Truly the watch is set" he murmured, " And 'tis an 
 ample guard. There can be no feigning in this fear, the 
 terror of the priests is real. Cowards and sceptics as they are, 
 they surely deem this Man will rise again 1" 
 
 The sight of all those soldiers' tents amazed him, he had 
 ,hought to find one or two sentinels perhaps on guard, but 
 that a regular military " watch" should be encamped round the
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAQEDT 223 
 
 burial-place of one, who after all, according to the law's esti- 
 mate, was no more than a crucified criminal, seemed to him 
 positively astounding. The hours of the afternoon were wear- 
 ing on rapidly and he hurried his pace, anxious to reach and 
 examine the tomb itself, but as he came within a few yards of 
 it, a guard confronted him, and with a gruff word, forbade him 
 to proceed further. Barabbas answered the man gently, ex- 
 plaining the errand on which he was bound, and asking whether 
 any one resembling the beautiful Judith had been seen wander- 
 ing about in the neighbourhood. The soldier looked at him 
 scrutinisingly, then began to laugh. 
 
 " Why, as I live !" he said " Thou art Barabbas ! I am 
 one of those who came to fetch thee out of prison the other 
 morn, thou wert drunk with the air and light, as with new 
 wine, and little did'st thou deem that thou wert going to thy 
 freedom ! Thou lookest altogther a different man, thus cleansed 
 and fitly clothed ; dost find the world altered since thy former 
 days ?" 
 
 " Nay, 'tis much the same," responded Barabbas somewhat 
 bitterly " Evil succeeds, and good perishes ; am I not myself 
 a living witness of this, seeing 'tis I who should have been 
 crucified instead of the ' Nazarene' ? " 
 
 " I warrant thou dost not regret His end or thine own es- 
 cape !" returned the soldier with a grim smile " Thou hast not 
 yet been two whole days out of prison, and already thou art 
 searching for a woman ! 'Tis ever the way with fierce rascals 
 such as thou, nevertheless however much I may sympathise 
 with thee, I cannot let thee pass me, the orders that we have 
 are stringent." 
 
 " I well believe it !" said Barabbas looking wistfully at the 
 sealed-up door of the rocky sepulchre, " And I do not urge 
 thee unto disobedience. And concerning the woman I have 
 spoken of, I seek her not for mine own sake, 'tis the daughter 
 of Iscariot that hath strayed from home, the same Iscariot 
 whose son Judas hung himself for shame that he betrayed the 
 Man of Nazareth. 'Tis thought she is distracted at her brother' s 
 death, and that she roams wildly, unknowing whither." 
 
 " By my faith 'tis a sad history !" said the Eoman, not with- 
 out a touch of sympathy, " This old Iscariot is truly in a 
 piteous case. But no woman, fair or foul, hath been near these 
 precincts all the day so far as I can tell thee. Nevertheless 
 when the watch doth change at moonrise, and Galbus the cen- 
 turion takes chief command, I will inform him what thou
 
 224 BARABBAS 
 
 gayest, he hath two children of his own, young maidens both, 
 and should he chance on this strayed lamb he may be trusted 
 to persuade her home. But for thyself, I do advise thee not 
 to linger, for here all idlers are suspected thieves, and if I 
 do mistake not thou hast some past reputation for skilled 
 robbery ! Perchance thou would'st not steal a corpse, for 
 truly 'tis not valuable, yet all things counted, thou'rt safer at 
 a distance from this place. Frown not ! I mean thee well." 
 
 " I thank thee I" said Barabbas briefly, and then stood for a 
 moment, lost in thought and uncertain what to do. It was 
 growing late, the sun was verging towards its setting. Flecks 
 of crimson, like floating rose-leaves, drifted in the sky imme- 
 diately above the hill of Calvary, and below these delicate 
 flushes, spread a watery band of green, a translucent sky-lagoon 
 into which, ere long, the glorious orb of day would plunge and 
 sink like a ship on fire. The landscape, though nearly barren 
 of verdure, had a wild beauty of its own seen thus in the 
 afternoon glow of the warm Eastern light, and so Barabbas 
 thought as his tired eyes roved from point to point unrestfully 
 and with a strained expression of regret and sorrow. The 
 centre of all visible things seemed to be that sealed and guarded 
 sepulchre ; and presently, bringing back his gaze to the bold 
 and martial form of the Roman soldier who still watched him 
 half suspiciously, half curiously, he waved his hand with an 
 expressive gesture towards the tents that were clustered round 
 the mystic tomb. 
 
 " Surely all this is needless waste of trouble and of time ?" 
 he said with forced lightness " Who that is sane would fear 
 that a dead man can rise?" 
 
 " Thou mistakest the nature of the fear" returned the 
 soldier, " No one, not even Caiaphas, is such a fool as to be- 
 lieve in a resurrection of the dead. No, no ! we guard against 
 the living; this 'Nazarene's' disciples are all within the 
 neighbourhood, and they would steal the body of their former 
 Master willingly, if by this deed, they could assume His 
 prophecies were true. But now are they baffled ; they cannot 
 break our ring or pass our ground ; and if the dead Man comes 
 to life again He must Himself find force to rend the rocks 
 asunder, for no human hand will aid the miracle !" 
 
 " 'Twould be a miracle indeed !" murmured Barabbas 
 dreamily. 
 
 " Ay ! and 'twill not happen," laughed the Roman 
 " We all know that. And to-morrow, praise be to the gods,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 225 
 
 the test will have been made and the watch ended, for 'tis the 
 third day, and if He rise not in keeping with His own saying, 
 'tis a finished matter, and we shall no more be teased with 
 follies. To-morrow thou can'st wander here at will unmolested 
 to-day I bid thee get hence and home." 
 
 "And I obey thee" rejoined Barabbas turning away 
 " Thou wilt speak to thy centurion of Iscariot's daughter?" 
 
 " Most faithfully." 
 
 " Again I thank thee. Farewell 1" 
 
 " Farewell !" 
 
 The soldier resumed his slow pacing to and fro, and Barabbas 
 with a last lingering look at the sepulchre, went on his reluctant 
 way back towards the city. He noticed as he passed the 
 further one of the little hills between which the tomb was 
 situated, that there was a deep hollow in the eround such as 
 might have been burrowed out by some wild animal for its 
 sleeping-place. It was large enough to hold a man unseen in 
 its sandy depths, and as he measured it with a glance, the 
 bold idea struck him that he would come there that very night 
 and hide, as it were, in ambush to watch the sepulchre also. 
 
 " For if aught should chance that is in any wise miraculous, 
 then I shall witness it" he soliloquised " Or if the disciples 
 of the ' Nazarene' should strive to steal His corpse, why then I 
 shall behold the fight 'twixt them and the Roman guard. Most 
 surely I will return hither, for whatsoever happens it will not 
 be a night for sleep, but vigilance. I can watch, I too, as 
 well as any other man, moreover if marvellous things are to 
 be seen, 'twere well that I should see them. If the dead Man 
 rise again then shall I know He is not man but God ; but unless 
 I see Him living with my own eyes I never will believe. 
 Wherefore to prove this thing I will return hither this night, 
 and nothing shall prevent me. The judgment and the heart 
 may be deceived, the reason and the sight, never. 'Twill 
 please me well to play the secret sentinel ! and, as I live, no 
 force shall move me from my post till dawn 1"
 
 226 BARABBAS 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 As he resolved on this plan, he stopped to take a careful 
 survey of the exact situation of the sheltering hollow in which 
 he meant to pass the night. The dust of the road was grey 
 and thick about his feet, above him the heavens were red- 
 dening into sunset-glory. The landscape had no touch of 
 human life about it, save his own solitary figure, Jerusalem 
 lay before him, a dream of white roofs rather than a reality, 
 and not a sound stirred the heated air. Therefore, in the great 
 hush that prevailed, he was unaccountably startled to see the 
 form of a woman, walking, or rather gliding slowly towards 
 him ; she was coming up from the city carrying a sheaf of large 
 white lilies. She was herself, like the blossoms she bore, clad 
 in white, and as she approached with perfectly noiseless foot- 
 steps, Barabbas, moved by a sudden instinct, placed himself 
 directly in her path, fully confronting her and staring at her 
 with burning, eager, wistful eyes. Her face, pale and mar- 
 vellously beautiful, was the same he had seen so strangely illu- 
 mined on Calvary when the bells had begun to ring, and the 
 darkness had slowly dispersed, a face expressing neither youth 
 nor age, nor any mark of earthly time, but reflecting on its 
 pure and perfect features both maidenhood and motherhood in 
 one, combined with such angelic sweetness, wisdom, sorrow, 
 purity and love as never had before adorned the fairness of 
 any woman born. Barabbas held his breath for very wonder- 
 ment at sight of her, something supreme and queenly in her 
 aspect disposed him to fall upon his knees before her in rever- 
 ence, yet he refrained from this and stood erect, trembling 
 greatly, but resolved to keep the position he had taken up in 
 the centre of the narrow road, so that she might not pass him 
 without at least a look, a word or a gesture. 
 
 "Tis the Mother of the Crucified!" he murmured "I 
 will speak to her, and ask of her the truth concerning all the 
 marvellous history of her Son, surely she will answer ! 
 surely she must answer, seeing it may become a matter of life 
 and death, not only with me, but with the world." 
 
 He waited, and she came on, holding her lilies with both 
 hands against her breast. Within two or three yards of him 
 however, she paused, and stood still. So still indeed was sh
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 227 
 
 that she might have been a figure of ivory or marble ; not a 
 fold of her garments stirred, not a petal of the lilies she 
 carried quivered, her calm eyes, clear as heaven, regarded 
 him steadily, one tress of her fair hair escaping from the 
 white linen head-covering she wore, glittered against her 
 throat, and on her lips rested the tender shadow of a smile. 
 Behind her flamed the sunset, round her the very air grew 
 dense and brilliant, as though powdered through with the fine 
 dust of finest amber, and at her feet one fallen lily-bud 
 opened its satin petals to the light, disclosing its interior heart 
 of gold. Vaguely awed by her very quiescence, Barabbas 
 gazed upon her enthralled and for the moment stricken speech- 
 less, a wondering, doubting and bewildered sinner, face to 
 face with the Angel- Virgin of the world ! The red light of 
 the sinking sun playing on the whiteness of her garments 
 dazzled him, she seemed to grow in stature and in majesty 
 even while he looked, and with a sigh of mingled pain, dread 
 and desire, he extended his hands appealingly. 
 
 " Mary of Nazareth !" 
 
 The shadow of the smile upon her lips deepened and softened 
 with an infinite compassion. But she neither answered nor 
 moved. 
 
 "Mary, Mother of the 'Nazarene' I" he faltered, trembling 
 more and more, for there was something supernatural in her 
 beauty, something almost terrifying in the mingled meekness 
 and majesty of her regard " Hear me, I beseech thee ! Thou 
 knowest who I am, Barabbas, an evil man of many sins, 
 and, had the people's voice been just, 'tis I who should have 
 perished yesterday instead of thy beloved Son. I swear I 
 would have died most willingly, not at the first no ! for I 
 did long for liberty and all the joys of free existence ; but after 
 I had seen His face, my life seemed to mine own self worth- 
 less, and I would have given it gladly to save His !" 
 
 Still not a word from her ! only that same mild tenderness 
 of look and smile. 
 
 " They say thy Son blasphemed" pursued Barabbas with 
 increasing agitation, " Because He spoke familiarly of God 
 and called Him ' Father' ! 'Twas a wild utterance, for now 
 a foolish rumour floats upon the people's lips, a rumour most 
 incredible, alleging that He was in very truth the only Son 
 of God. Why did'st not thou, Mary, disprove this idle tale? 
 for thou, of nil the world, dost know the manner of Hia 
 birth ! Thou should'st have warned Him of the danger of
 
 228 BARABBAS 
 
 His words, and so might He have saved Himself from the 
 penalty of the law. For were He the holiest man that ever 
 breathed, still in this way of speech He was guilty of a vast 
 presumption, the great God, the terrible Almighty hath never 
 vested His Divinity in human guise ! Knowest thou not, Mary, 
 that this false impression of Him still abides ? and that the 
 whisper of it, passing from mouth to mouth doth waken the 
 strangest fears and doubts within the souls of men ? and even 
 I, Barabbas, ignorant, guilty, and all unbelieving as I am, grow 
 troubled and perplexed, seeking the truth and finding none ! 
 With thee this matter rests, thou art the Mother of this 
 ' Nazarene,' 'tis not too late to speak thou can'st unravel all 
 the mystery, wherefore I do beseech thee answer me !" 
 
 His entreating eyes studied her tranquil face eagerly, but 
 not a sound escaped her lips, not even a faint responsive sigh. 
 
 " Why wilt thou thus keep silence?" he exclaimed passion- 
 ately il Hast thou thought, Mary, what the result will be if 
 thou dost suffer this mad and strange report to travel on 
 uncontradicted ? For if thy dead Son be declared a God, of 
 birth miraculous and Divine, then must a curse rest on the 
 people of Judaea for having slain Him, and all the world will 
 make a scorn of Israel for endless time ! On us will fall the 
 blame and punishment for our rejection of the God-Messiah, 
 and the nations of the earth will loathe us for our cruelty, our 
 wickedness, perversity and unbelief. Mary, thou knowest ! 
 Speak ! wilt thou let the whole world worship a Legend and 
 a Lie?" 
 
 As he uttered the last word, a sudden cold shudder ran 
 through him, he grew dizzy and faint, but with an effort held 
 his ground, gazing full at her to whom he made his bold and 
 desperate appeal. She had not moved, but there was an 
 indefinable change in her that startled him. Some mystic 
 light that was not of the sunset seemed cast upon her face, and 
 in her stedfast eyes there shone a radiance more softly brilliant 
 than the glittering of moonbeams on the sea. Half swooning 
 with the force of his own emotions, Barabbas suddenly fell on 
 his knees, grasping the edge of her white robe in one hand. 
 
 " Mary of Nazareth !" he whispered hoarsely " In pity to 
 me a sinner, in mercy to the world declare the truth ! Who 
 was the Father of thy Son ?" 
 
 Deep silence followed his daring question. Above the fra- 
 grant lilies, her radiant face grew warm with speechless elo- 
 quence, and lifting her eyes she gazed upward upward,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 229 
 
 far into the vistas of ethereal blue; transfigured by some 
 inward glorious thought she seemed about to float away upon 
 the air in answer to a voice calling her heavenward. The sun 
 dropped below the horizon and disappeared, the skies began 
 to pale into that rapid Eastern twilight which paves the passage 
 of the stars. 
 
 "Not a word! not a word !" cried Barabbas then, spring- 
 ing to his feet, and carried out of himself by mingled fervour 
 and ferocity : ' Woman ! wilt thou deceive Man unto the 
 bitter end? Shall our very God be of thy making? Shall 
 our very creeds be of thy teaching? Must thou command 
 our souls even to the very hope of heaven ? If thou art human, 
 if thou art holy, if thou desirest truth made manifest, speak, 
 Mary, thou who did'st bring into the world this ' King' to 
 whom hath now been given a Cross for throne and thorns for 
 Crown ! Dost thou meditate eternal vengeance on us all ? 
 Hast thou sworn within thy soul that men shall worship what 
 they once despised, and pray to Him they slew ? If so, such 
 monstrous compensation ne'er was dreamed of 'tis a revenge 
 more subtle than the fiercest tortures ! Is it for wrath or love, 
 Mary, that thou dost hold thy peace ?" 
 
 Her sweet mouth trembled a little, but she did not speak, 
 her eyes were still uplifted as in prayer. 
 
 "How can silence in aught avail thee?" pursued Barabbas 
 impetuously " Lo, if the great God Invisible hath filled thee 
 with His mystic Spirit, art thou not thereby made a creature 
 marvellous ? a very queen of wonders ? and by thy very life 
 dost thou not glorify thy sex and make it sacred and revered 
 for evermore? Wherefore then hesitate to take full majesty 
 and power upon thee ? But if thou hast no miracle to tell, 
 surely thou art a cruelty incarnate, for by thy dumb refusal to 
 be true, thou mayest weave around the hapless world a web of 
 error such as the ages never yet have seen. Think for a mo- 
 ineut, picture it ! shall wise men of the earth and conquer- 
 ors and kings bow their proud heads before mere Woman and 
 Child ? The symbol of all Nature, in which there is no touch 
 Divine but everything of common ! wilt thou make fools of 
 tribes and nations, thou Mother of the so-called Christ, who 
 art accredited with being Virgin still ? No man hath touched 
 thee, say the people, yet thou hast a husband, and thou had'st 
 a Son 1 art thou thyself a Miracle ? or dost thou out of 
 pleasure in an undeserved fame, suffer these wild things to ba 
 said of thee ?" 
 
 20
 
 230 BARABBAS 
 
 Still she answered nothing. But bringing her eyes down 
 from their rapturous survey of heaven, she fixed them on him 
 with a grave regard in which there was something of mild 
 rebuke as well as compassion. 
 
 " I would not wilfully offend, or seem to offer thee reproach," 
 -^he went on, vaguely troubled by her look " I know thou art 
 a sorrowing Mother, at this present time, though to me thou 
 hast an air of gladness rather than of grief. But I am only 
 one of many who will clamour, ay, with tears and prayers, for 
 an answer from thee, I am a lonely, wretched sinner with a 
 broken heart, life is nothing to me, forms are nothing, the 
 opinions of the world less than nothing, I seek the truth, 
 that I may rest thereon and find some comfort, there are and 
 will be thousands such as I. Could I believe, I would believe ; 
 but an' thou wilt not speak, thou leavest me in ignorance. If 
 thy Son be born of the Spirit of God, then will I worship Him 
 and thee, but if He be no more than Man, then will I think 
 of Him with pity as one noble and heroic who was foully slain, 
 and of thee as patient woman sore afflicted, and there an end. 
 On thy word do I rely, oh, thou must have a heart of steel 
 or adamant, if still thou wilt not answer me 1" 
 
 This time she stirred slightly, but she did not speak. Bend- 
 ing her head a little forward over the lilies she held, she gazed 
 at him with an earnest and tender thoughtfuluess, and then 
 Barabbas started back amazed and terror-stricken. For 
 behind her and around her a sudden great light shone, a fiery 
 halo, radiating to right and left like two glittering wings between 
 which her tranquil and majestic figure held its place in queenly 
 and serene unconsciousness. The unearthly glory palpitated 
 with a thousand hues of delicate and changeful colour, and 
 Barabbas with a faint cry of wonderment, dropped again upon 
 his knees. 
 
 /** God have mercy on me !" he muttered, staring with 
 dazzled eyes at the pulsating splendour and the gentle figure/ 
 that in the midst of those unearthly fires stood half framed in 
 flowering lilies " God have mercy on me ! Meth ought 'twas 
 to a woman that I spoke, this is an Angel !" J 
 
 A soft surprise flitted over her face, it was evident that she 
 herself was unaware of the mystic light that circled her as 
 with a ring. It vanished even while Barabbas spoke, and he, 
 kneeling in the dust and gazing upward, fancied his sight had 
 surely been deceived. But now she moved, and coming 
 quite close up to him, looked him full and stedfastly in the
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 231 
 
 eyes. A whisper light as the flutter of a leaf fell on his 
 ears, 
 
 " To-morrow !" 
 
 And with noiseless footsteps she passed him by, seeming to 
 float aerially, like a spirit, upward on her way towards the 
 sepulchre between the hills. Barabbas, springing erect, ran 
 recklessly a few steps after her, crying aloud 
 
 " Mary ! Mary of Nazareth ! Woman or angel, whatever 
 thou art, judge me not wrongfully ! I have but sought the 
 truth, even as the world will seek it 1 the truth of Him who 
 was thy Son !" 
 
 She turued her head gently back towards him with an air 
 of queenly patience. 
 
 " To-morrow !" she repeated, and her voice sounding like a 
 soft chime, seemed carried through the air, over the quiet land- 
 scape into every nook and corner of rock and field, bearing as a 
 message to all creation the one word " To-morrow 1" 
 
 Then, gliding on, she disappeared. 
 
 Breathless and overcome with excitement, Barabbas flung 
 himself down on the arid turf that edged the road, his senses 
 all aswoon and trembling. 
 
 " To-morrow!" he said " "Why what shall to-morrow bring? 
 "Will her dead Son live again ? Doth she also cherish this mad 
 delusion ? If He in truth doth rend the rocks asunder and 
 arise, 'twill be sufficient proof of God for all ; but such a 
 miracle can never be, ' tis out of very Nature, yet I cannot 
 but believe that some strange mystery doth invest the world, 
 some thought of God is working in its depths. For long 
 long ages God hath well-nigh forgotten us, doth He now re- 
 member at the very time when we forget ? Hath He visited 
 us in very truth, to be rejected? And if this should be so, 
 what will be the purport of our doom ? Ah me, we men are 
 ever fools and blind, and I the wretchedest fool of all, for 
 methought I saw a heavenly radiance round yon woman of 
 Nazareth, even as I deemed I saw the same in Pilate's hall 
 around the figure of her Son 'twas but a dazzlemenb of sight 
 and sense, a weariness and faintness which quickly passed, 
 and then the light had fled. How soon our fancies are de- 
 ceived ! a sick man seeth visions, and fancies they are real, 
 and I, weak with Ions imprisonment and fasting, fretted with 
 griefs, and poisoned with despairs, am made the dupe of mine 
 own feebleness. How full was I of strength once ! and now, 
 why t!:e very look of this Mary of Nazareth doth easily unman
 
 232 B ARABS AS 
 
 me. To-morrow 1 I would that it were here I 'Tis growing 
 late and dark I will return to Melchior and tell him whither 
 I am bound to-night, then will I come back hither and take 
 up my secret vigil till the marvellously-expected day shall 
 dawn." 
 
 He started running down the road towards Jerusalem, and 
 as he entered the city gates, he met a detachment of soldiers, 
 headed by Galbus, marching out. They were going to relieve 
 the watch at the sepulchre, and encamp themselves there for 
 the night. He drew aside to let them pass, and as their bur- 
 nished helmets and pikes went in a narrow glittering line up 
 the; road, the moon, large as a golden shield, suddenly lifted 
 herself above the city, gazing, as it were, over the hills in 
 open wonderment at the Divine Mystery hidden in the earth 
 below. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 " THY command must be obeyed, nevertheless, Caiaphas, 
 'tis strange and unusual." 
 
 The speaker was an elderly scribe, a man with a pale lean 
 intellectual face, and a high forehead, which just now was 
 puckered in a puzzled frown. He was seated in the private 
 audience-room of the high-priest, and the high-priest himself 
 was majestically throned in a gilded chair opposite to him. 
 Lamps were kindled, the table was strewn with slips of parch- 
 ment, through the open casement the gardens of the palace 
 could be seen richly illumined by the moon, it was the even- 
 ing of the Sabbath-day. 
 
 " Strange and unusual as it may be," returned Caiaphas 
 coldly, " it is my order. Thy business is not to question or 
 dispute, but to perform the will of those that are set over thee. 
 Wherefore should'st thou and thy fellows chronicle the brief 
 career and ignominious death of a mad blasphemer?" 
 
 " There is no answer to thy ' wherefore,' save the one," re- 
 plied the scribe, with a little smile, " It is the custom, and 
 hath been so for many ages, to faithfully set down all things 
 within our records, even to small items, whether concerning 
 our evil men or good. The story of this fanatic of Nazareth 
 is worthy to be written, if only to disprove all supernatural 
 le<reuds that are in rumour and connection with Him. Some
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 233 
 
 things He taught were wise, and some were foolish because 
 impracticable, and possibly His best suggestions may be traced 
 to Egypt, and He be proved the merest echo of some ancient 
 perished creed. I do confess unto thee, Caiaphas, I see no 
 reason for the absolute omission of His name in circumstantial 
 history." 
 
 Caiaphas flushed a dark red, then grew pale, and grasped the 
 projecting edges of his chair with both hands convulsively. 
 
 ' Thou art a narrow pedant !" he said angrily " Thou 
 can'st not see what I see. Knowest thou not there is a change 
 of feeling even now among the people ? that they bemoan 
 their ' Prophet's' death, and weep, saying He wrought much 
 good among them ? Moreover that the end of Judas Iscariot 
 hath moved them most profoundly, knowing that the unhappy 
 youth did slay himself for pure remorse at having given the 
 ' Nazarene' over to the law ? All this will grow upon report, 
 we, the Sanhedrim, shall be branded perchance, as murderers, 
 and this crucified criminal be made a martyr. Wherefore I 
 will not have him mentioned in our records, Shebna, let His 
 name perish aud His teachings be forgotten ! lest in the 
 future, men should ask : Who was this Man of Nazareth and 
 wherefore was He slain ?' " 
 
 " They will ask that the more, maybe, if thou leave it unto 
 rumour" said Shebna drily, collecting his parchments to- 
 gether " If thou would'st make a man immortally renowned, 
 let him be spoken of from mouth to mouth, and nothing of 
 any written fact be found concerning him ! Gossip hath whis- 
 pered a man into a god ere now, when whole volumes of his- 
 tory would have failed to make him one. I tell thee I would 
 rather be talked of than written of, 'tis the more lasting fame. 
 If, in impassive language, I should coldly pen the story of this 
 Jesus of Nazareth, and classify Him as a poor crazed creature 
 who Rave Himself out to be the Son of God, and was crucified 
 for His blasphemy, no one, either in the present or the future 
 would trouble their heads further concerning Him." 
 
 " If thou write one thing thou must write all," declared 
 Caiaphas with irritation " Thou must relate the terrors of the 
 darkness and the earthquake ; and what could'st thou make of 
 the rending of the Temple veil?" 
 
 Shebna looked meditative. 
 
 " True, these things were strange and terrifying" he 
 murmured " But after all the heat of these late days has 
 been intense, au earthquake and a storm are natural disturb- 
 20*
 
 234 BAR A SB AS 
 
 ances which might occur at any time, and the Temple veil 
 was probably rent by an oblique flash of lightning. Thou art 
 moved from thy wonted calmness, Caiaphas, else thou would'et 
 see naught so particular in such events that they should not be 
 written." 
 
 The high-priest rose, trembling with the interior force of an 
 inexplicable fury. 
 
 " Thou obstinate slave, thou shalt not write them !" he cried 
 vehemently " 'Tis I who scan thy leaves, 'tis I who set my 
 sign upon thy chronicle to warrant and approve its truth. Now 
 if thou darest so much as write the name of Jesus of Nazareth 
 in these present annals, I will cut thy parchment into shreds 
 before thy face and depose thee from thine office !" 
 
 Shebna rose also, and stood staring at his irate superior in 
 blank astonishment. 
 
 " Anger not thyself thus needlessly, Caiaphas" he said 
 quietly " I argue not against thy order, which shall be fulfilled, 
 I simply seek to show thee 'tis in a manner unnecessary, as 
 no fear can now be had of this troublous ' Nazarene,' seeing 
 He is dead. Nevertheless thou shalt have complete obedience ; 
 no word shall be inscribed upon our documents pertaining to 
 this so-called ' King of the Jews ;' we will consign Him to 
 oblivion." 
 
 " Ay so best !" returned Caiaphas, recovering composure, 
 and re-seating himself " For what the pen does not write, the 
 eye cannot read. Ye scribes are after all the only powers of a 
 land, ye are more than kings, for if ye chronicle not a 
 victory, the world will never know 'twas gained, and if ye 
 speak not of a Man, who shall ever know that he existed ? I 
 believe not in the force of rumour as thou dost, who dost 
 credit mere garrulity ?" 
 
 u Why every one !" responded Shebna satirically " A 
 man will doubt and seek to disprove the written facts of his- 
 tory, but he will oft believe the first thing told him by his 
 neighbour! And, touching this matter, Caiaphas, thou must 
 not forget that there are others who have known the ' Naza- 
 rene' who may write some memorial of Him ; His followers 
 were many" 
 
 " Ignorant fools all and common folk" retorted the high- 
 priest " none of whom know the use of letters. A good 
 company forsooth ! idle Galilean fishermen, hill-thieves, pub- 
 licans, lepers and street-outcasts; such as these shall never 
 write a line that can bo read hereafter. Moreover, even if
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 235 
 
 they did, what would their report be worth, if we, who make 
 the Jewish annals, are silent?" 
 
 Shebna found no answer to this trenchant question, which 
 indeed seemed to settle the matter. He had his own ideas 
 upon the point, every man has his own ideas upon every 
 point, but he was afraid to give them any further utterance. 
 So he merely made a little deprecatory gesture of submission 
 and assent, and, after a few more general remarks on ordinary 
 subjects, he gathered up his parchments and humbly bowed 
 himself out of his sacerdotal ruler's presence. 
 
 Left alone, Caiaphas sat for some moments in his chair 
 absorbed in thought. His face was careworn, his eyelids 
 heavy with want of sleep. 
 
 " How is it I am thus unmanned?'' he murmured wearily 
 " Moved for the merest fancies ! troubled by the wandering 
 humours of a tired brain ! I cannot rid me of the memory 
 of the Man of Nazareth, there was a triumph in His dying 
 eyes mingled with lightning-wrath that did appal my soul 1 
 But I have baffled Him! there shall be no new creeds to 
 conquer time ; the one Jehovah shall suffice, the one re- 
 vengeful, blood-demanding, jealous God whose very name doth 
 terrify the world ! If God were Love then would man grow 
 too proud ; shall a worm assume that the Divine hath care 
 for it ? An' such folly were believed in, we could not hold 
 our mastery upon the people, each wretched unit would ap- 
 peal from us to God, and deem himself our independent equals. 
 Ah, what a Sabbath this hath been ! how desolate in every 
 moment, from the anguish and amazement of the morning 
 when old Iscariot did seek me out with furious upbraidings, 
 and frenzied clamour for his lost daughter, as if I knew 
 whither she hath strayed ! Would that I did know ! "Who 
 is it that hath mouthed a scandal round her name and mine, 
 and turned Iscariot's heart against me ? The released Barab- 
 bas? Nay, he could guess nothing. I have been ever cau- 
 tious, and yet, a whisper and a slander fly on swifter wings 
 than light or wind, and who shall stay them ? I must be on my 
 guard, and though I love Judith, I will not look upon her face 
 for many days even when she is found, lest harm come of it." 
 
 He rose, and moved to the open casement, from which a light 
 wooden stairway led down into the shaded precincts of hia 
 luxurious private garden. Leaning against the intertwisted 
 trellis-work he looked out at the placid, star-strewn heavens 
 with troubled and indifferent eyes.
 
 236 BARABBAS 
 
 " 'Tis the last night of the watch" he said " And to- 
 morrow all suspense will cease. Tlie counsellor of Ariuiathea 
 hath kept his word, he hath not visited the tomb since the 
 burial, likewise the followers of the ' Nazarene' are scared, 
 and refc of settled plan or purpose, wherefore, so fur all is well. 
 To-morrow we shall attest unto the people the lalseness of the 
 Prophet they believed in, then, there will be- no more cause 
 for fear. So will the matter be forgotten ; these fanatics for 
 truth are more troublous than seditious rebels ; open truth is 
 most impolitic, one cannot rule the world except by lies 1" 
 
 He smiled a little at his own cynicism, then started ner- 
 vously, hearing a slight rustling in the thick foliage below his 
 balcony. Moving from his indolent posture he bent forward 
 to listen, and as he did so, two brilliant wild eyes peered up at 
 him from the dusky shadows. 
 
 " Caiaphas I" and the whisper thrilled like the hiss of a 
 snake through the silence, " Caiaphas 1" 
 
 Seized with a chill terror, he stepped swiftly and noiselessly 
 down the stairway, and bending back the bushes, gazed eagerly 
 into what seemed a nest of leaves, and there perceived the 
 form of a woman crouched down on the ground as though 
 seeking to hide herself, a woman in draggled white garments 
 with a fair, strangely agonized face that smiled at him in a sort 
 of forlorn joy as lie discerned it among the sheltering shrubs 
 and flowers. He uttered a smothered cry 
 
 " Judith !" 
 
 And half in rage, half in love, he dragged her from her 
 hiding-place, and caught her up in his arms, looking about 
 him in dread lest any one should see them, and trying to cover 
 her with his own flowing mantle. 
 
 " Judith ! Judith !" he muttered, his heart beating heavily, 
 the while he sought to put back from her brows all the tangled 
 gold of her dishevelled hair" What doest thou here ? Where 
 hast thou been ? Knowest thou not that thy father hath sought 
 thee all throughout the day with tears and heart-break ? And 
 why hast thou ventured hither thus alone ? Eememberest thou 
 not the scandal of tongues the gossip of the city ? Consider 
 the folly of it ! if my wife saw thee, if my servants spied 
 thee ! oh, thou must not linger here one moment, Judith, 
 thou must go home ; come, I myself will take thee through 
 the private way, and naught will be suspected come 1 there 
 is no time to be lost if thou would'st silence slander." 
 
 With unnatural violence she wrenched herself from his grasp
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 237 
 
 and retreated step by step looking full at him. Leaves and 
 brambles clung about her, a spray of the scarlet cactus-blossom 
 was twisted in her girdle, and against her breast she held some 
 dark object which she appeared to cherish with a jealous care. 
 
 " Thou art Caiaphaa !" she said dreamily surveying him 
 "Thou art God's great high-priest who hath become a slave 
 for love of me. I have watched for thee all day and have not 
 found thee, though, up at a casement yonder I saw thy wedded 
 spouse, the pale daughter of Annas, weeping. Did she weep 
 for thee, thinkest thou? if so 'twas strange. Who that is 
 wise would shed tears for any man ! Listen, Caiaphas, thou 
 who 'dost exact obedience from all the people of Jerusalem, 
 the hour is come when thou must obey me !" 
 
 Alarmed at her wild look and manner, Caiaphas went 
 towards her, trying again to take her in his arms, but she 
 still retreated, her eyes flashing with a fierceness that startled 
 him. 
 
 " What can I do for thee, Judith ?" he murmured, speaking 
 as gently as he could, and hoping to soothe her by soft words 
 " Thou knowest how willing I always am to give thee pleas- 
 ure. Only I beseech thee, come with me out of this place, 
 lest we be seen and spoken of " 
 
 " All the world may see," responded Judith with an air of 
 triumph " All the world may hear! I care naught. What 
 is the world to me, so long as Judas still is angry ? Judas 
 will not speak to me for wrath, he deems 'tis I did bring the 
 ' Nazarene' to death, whereas 'tis thou ! thou only. And 
 thou must tell him so, thou must declare thy full part in the 
 matter, for neither he nor I will bear the undeserved blame. 
 He is at home sleeping ; I told him thou had'st sworn to make 
 him great and famous in the land, but he answered nothing. 
 I promised I would bring him news. come thou now and 
 wake him thou knowest not how fast he sleeps ! and tell him 
 all, tell him how thou did'st teach me to persuade him to be- 
 tray his friend the ' Nazarene.' For though the ' Nazarene' is 
 dead, it seems He was not altogether evil, and methinks 'tis 
 pity He is dead, since Judas loved Him. I kr/ew not that his 
 love was such, or of so great a tenderness, and now I puffer 
 for my ignorance, for Judas will not pardon me, or look at me, 
 or say as he was wont to say ' Fair sister, morning is fairer 
 for thy presence !' yea, he would oft speak so, smilingly, for 
 I was beautiful, the fairest woman in Judaea was I till I grew 
 old !" Here she paused with a puzzled expression, her own
 
 238 BARABBAS 
 
 words seemed to frighten her, but presently she went on, 
 muttering to herself 
 
 " Till I grew old, ay ! cruel age creeps on apace with us 
 all, we should not stint love lest those we love be taken from 
 us, we must not wait too long, Judas and I, or we shall be 
 buried in our graves ere we be friends. And once shut in that 
 darkness we shall never rise, not even on the waves of many 
 tears !" 
 
 Her voice sank tremulously, then suddenly it rang out clear 
 and shrill. 
 
 " See !" she exclaimed wildly. " Thus died the King !" 
 
 And unclasping her hands from the object she had hugged 
 so closely to her bosom, she held up a Cross, made of two 
 small olive branches tied together with a strand of silk drawn 
 out of her own girdle. 
 
 Caiaphas staggered back, struck speechless by her words and 
 the swiftness of her action, and involuntarily he made a gesture 
 of repugnance and offence. She saw it and sprang up to him, 
 still brandishing the Cross before his eyes. 
 
 " Thus died the King !" she repeated with a kind of exulta- 
 tion " Slain by His own high-priest on the altar of the 
 world !" 
 
 And with all the madness of her tortured brain lighting her 
 looks as with fire, she stood transfigured into an unearthly love- 
 liness that appalled while it fascinated her quondam lover, 
 and for one absorbing moment the twain confronted each 
 other as though they were restless ghosts met by moonlight, 
 the Cross between them uplifted like a sign of parting, a 
 mystic barrier dividing them for ever. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 IT was but an instant that they remained thus inert, then, 
 shaking off the amazement and fear that had held him motion- 
 less and dumb, Caiaphas seized the crazed girl in his arms and 
 strove to snatch the Cross from her grasp. But she clung to it 
 fiercely in an access of fever and frenzy ; and with a swift lithe 
 spring like that of a young leopardess she again escaped from 
 him and stood apart, eyeing him vengeiully yet with a wan
 
 A DREAV OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 239 
 
 smile. Never had the proud priest been brought to such a 
 verge of despair as now, for what was he to do with this dis- 
 tracted creature, whose very presence in his private garden if 
 discovered, would bring scandal on his name, ruin his charac- 
 ter and degrade him from his lofty post ! Even the words she 
 uttered in her madness would betray the secret of their illicit 
 loves, the position was wholly intolerable, yet how was he 
 to extricate himself from it ! And why did she threaten him 
 with the Cross ? she who had openly declared the intensity 
 of her hate for the " Nazarene" ? It might be merely the 
 working of a delirious brain toying with chaotic contradictions, 
 yet it troubled Caiaphas strangely. He advanced a step or two 
 extending his hands in appeal. 
 
 " Judith, come to me " he said in a low tone of mingled 
 coaxing and command, " Thou art ill, distraught, and per- 
 chance weary with wandering, thou knowest not what thou 
 sayest. Thy father waits for thee at home, let me take thee 
 to him now, surely thou would'st not break his heart and 
 mine? Come !" and he ventured still nearer to her" Do I 
 not love thee, Judith ? and wilt thou not trust thyself unto 
 my tenderness ?" 
 
 She looked at him strangely, her large eyes dilating with 
 vague wonder. 
 
 " Thy tenderness ?" she echoed. " What tenderness can'st 
 thou boast of, Caiaphas, unless it be that of the wolf for its 
 prey ? Speakest thou of love ? Thou hast not loved me, 
 nor I thee, moreover there is no love left in all the world, 
 'tis dead, and thou, methinks, hast slain it." Here she paused, 
 passing one hand over her brow with a puzzled expression, 
 " I know not how the message came to me" she continued 
 murmuringly " for Judas said nothing !V 
 
 " What message ?" asked Caiaphas softly, drawing nearer to 
 her, and resolving in his own mind that he would coax her 
 away from the garden by degrees " Tell me what it is *hat 
 troubles thee ?" 
 
 A faint smile crossed her lips. 
 
 " Nay, naught troubles me !" she said " 1 have lived too 
 long to grieve for bygone things. Look you, since my time the 
 world is changed, old days are passed for ever, and Judaea 
 is no more what it hath been. And of the message, why, 
 that was strange, it told me that God lived and that Death 
 was dead ! Listen !" and with a swift capriciousness that 
 startled him she flung herself into his arms and leaned her
 
 240 BAH ABB AS 
 
 head against his breast, looking upwards into his face " I have 
 heard that now there is some curse upon us and that we shall 
 never die ! 'Tis hitter, for I am tired of life, and so, surely 
 art thou. We have lived long enough ; 'tis centuries since I 
 was young and since thou did'st slay the ' Nazarene.' llemem- 
 berest thou His shining face in death ? methought He woro 
 the lightning as a crown ! But darkness came, and then I lost 
 my brother Judas ; Barabbas found him afterwards, and brought 
 him home." 
 
 " Barabbas !" muttered Caiaphas, the while he held Judith 
 half roughly, half caressingly in his embrace and sought to 
 guide her steps imperceptibly towards the private gate leading 
 out from the garden " Barabbas is a murderer I" 
 
 ("Then should'st thou be his friend'', said Judith " for 
 thou art murderer likewise ! Hast thou not subtly slain the 
 ' Nazarene' ? 'Twas aptly planned. Caiaphas, men are as 
 blind fools without reason, and none will think of blaming thee. 
 And as for Judas, Judas is not dead ; he sleeps ; if he indeed 
 were dead the world should know that thou had'st killed him !" 
 
 Caiaphas frowned, and a sudden rage began to kindle itself 
 in his blood against this woman he had once recklessly adored. 
 
 " Hold thy peace, Judith !" he said fiercely ;( Thou ravest ! 
 thou art unlike thyself, else should I be wroth with thee. 
 Talk not so wildly of the accursed ' Nazarene,' or it may be I 
 shall hate thee even as ardently as I have loved. Thou thy- 
 self did'st loathe this Prophet and desire His death ; thou thy- 
 self did'st mock Him ere He died ; now, out of mere woman's 
 wantonness thou pratest of Him almost as if His memory were 
 dear to thee ! Such folly passeth patience, but thou'rt ill and 
 can'st not comprehend thine own distraction, why now ! 
 what new fancy doth torment thee ?" 
 
 For she suddenly withdrew herself from his arms, and, sigh- 
 ing piteously, began to play idly with a piece of coarse rope 
 that dangled loosely from her girdle. Presently untying it, she 
 held it out to him. 
 
 " Prithee take this, Caiaphas" she murmured plaintively 
 "Place it among the holy treasures of the Temple, 'twill 
 eerve ! 'Twas round the throat of Judas, see ! his blood doth 
 stain it here!" 
 
 He started back with a cry of horror. She came nearer, 
 still with mute gestures praying him to accept the hideous gift 
 ehe proffered. 
 
 " Wilt thou not receive it ?" she asked, fixing her wild eyes
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 241 
 
 on his alarmed and pallid countenance " Then art thou no 
 true priest, for on the altar thou dost serve, there are the things 
 of blood and sacrifice, and this should be amongst them. Lo ! 
 it doth express the penitence of Judas, he hath done wrong 
 and his remorse is great ; he prays for pardon. And I have 
 told him for his comfort, that he hath not been in all to blame, 
 for that it was thou, thou and the creatures of thy craft, of 
 whom I was one, that did destroy the ' Nazarene." And he is 
 glad, I think, for when I told him this, a light fell on him 
 and he smiled, for ever did he hate the priests, and that they 
 should outrage innocence and crucify a god is no great won- 
 der !" 
 
 Speechless with inward fury and despair, Caiaphas stood 
 helplessly staring at her, while she in a kind of sad resignation, 
 re-fastened the blood-stained cord at her own waist. Then she 
 drew the roughly-made Cross from her bosom and smiled. 
 
 " This is a strange charm !" she said softly " It makes the 
 old world new. In rays of light this same sign fell on Judas 
 as he slept and seemed to give him peace. I found these olive- 
 branches in Gethsemane, and tied them thus together, if it 
 could comfort Judas, so shall it comfort me !" 
 
 And raising it to her lips she kissed it. 
 
 "Judith Judith !" cried the high-priest desperately " Wilt 
 thou kiss the symbol of ignoble death ?" 
 
 " Why not ?" said she " if Death thereby is dead ? I told 
 thee of the message, 'twas that God lived and Death was 
 dead. We wept for Judas, believing he was gone from us into 
 the grave for ever, but now we know he lives we shall be 
 comforted. ; Tis a new wisdom we have learned, albeit there 
 was something sweet in the old ignorance. For when we were 
 sure that we should die, it mattered little whether we lived 
 well or ill, a few years and all was at an end, sins were not 
 counted then, but now, we dare not sin lest we be burdened 
 with the memory of wrong through everlasting time. Methinks 
 there is a misery in this joy of endless life ! what will become 
 of thee, Caiaphas ? of me ? hall we forget our sins, thinkest 
 thou ? or must we evermore remember ?" 
 
 He met her large appealing eyes, then gently advancing, 
 encircled her with one arm. 
 
 "Judith, beloved Judith" he whispered "As thou art 
 
 dear to me, do not torment thyself and me with these wild 
 
 fancies. Come, I will not force thee homeward against thy 
 
 will, come within the palace, and I will hide thee where thou 
 
 L q 21
 
 242 BARABBAS 
 
 knowest of, the secret nook where we have passed so many 
 hours of love" 
 
 " Flatter not thyself I ever loved thee!" she said with a re- 
 turning flash of her former pride and scorn " Men were my 
 slaves, and thou the most abased of all !" She paused, shud- 
 dering violently, then went on in feeble tones, " But that 
 was long ago, when I was young ; rememberest thou how fair 
 I was ? with eyes like jewels and hair like gold ?" 
 
 " Thou art not changed, Judith" murmured Caiaphas, 
 pressing her to his heart with involuntary force and passion 
 " Thou art as thou wert ever, the most beautiful of women 1" 
 
 "Thou dost mock me," she sighed, leaning against him 
 languidly " But I heed not what thou sayest, as I never loved 
 thee. No man did ever move me to a sorrow for his sake not 
 even poor Barabbas who in very truth did worship me. Out 
 of his love he slew Gabrias who had grown too boastful of my 
 favour, and for his crime he suffered Jong imprisonment, 
 yet I cared naught ! If men are fools they needs must pay 
 the price for folly." 
 
 She roused herself and shook back her long hair over her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Come !" she said " Come and wake Judas. He has slept 
 a long long while, and it will soon be morning." 
 
 She moved swiftly and with an air of resolve over the grass, 
 and Caiaphas, relieved that she seemed bent on departure, 
 made an elaborate pretence of accompanying her. Her exqui- 
 site form, light, supple and stately, glided along before his eyes 
 like some fair spectre, and the fascination of her beauty was 
 such that he had much ado to keep himself from snatching 
 her in his arms, all distraught as she was, and covering her 
 with the last kisses of despairing love and farewell. But the 
 fear of discovery held his passions in check, and he was care- 
 ful to walk beside her with an assumption of protecting dignity 
 and compassion, so that if any chance beholder should spy him, 
 he would be able to explain that he had found her wandering 
 through his gardens in a state of fever and distraction, and that 
 he was merely fulfilling his duty as a priest in taking her back 
 to her father's house. 
 
 Suddenly she stopped and surveyed him with frowning sus- 
 picion. 
 
 " Thou wilt make full confession to Judas ?" she demanded 
 " Thou wilt declare how it was thy scheme and thine alone 
 ihat bought to death the ' Nazarene' ? Thou wilt absolve him
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 243 
 
 from the sin that troubles him ? the sin whereunto we both 
 persuaded him ?" 
 
 He looked away from her. 
 
 " Be at peace I pray thee, Judith," he murmured evasively 
 " I will say what I can" 
 
 " Nay, it is not what thou can'st say but what thou must 
 say !" cried Judith excitedly " Thou can'st say any lie, thou 
 must say the truth I Thou cruel priest ! Thou shalt not 
 darken my brother's name and fame by thy treachery, thou 
 shalt not screen thyself behind him in this history. Thou, the 
 priest, did'st hate the god, if any god there was within thy 
 Victim, and thou did'st slay Him. The very people would 
 have set Him free had'st thou not bidden me cry out ' Crucify 
 Him' to keep them in their vengeful humour. I tell thee thou 
 shalt confess this thing, I will not go from heuce till thou 
 dost promise me, Judas waits for us at home, swear to me 
 thou wilt tell him all !" 
 
 Driven to desperation, and bethinking himself that after all, 
 Judas was dead, thoush his distraught sister would not realise 
 it, Caiaphas answered hurriedly, 
 
 " Be it as thou wilt, Judith. I swear !" 
 
 She peered at him distrustfully, her eyes glittering with a 
 sparkle of malevolence. 
 
 " I do not believe thee !" she said deliberately " Thou 
 can'st so aptly play the spy and traitor that thou art not to be 
 trusted. If thou wilt be true to thy word for once, swear to 
 me by this !" 
 
 And she again held up the Cross before him. At the sud- 
 denly renewed sight of it such a fury seized him that for the 
 moment he lost all control over himself. 
 
 " Darest thou thus taunt me 1" he cried " Thou art not 
 Judith Iscariot, but some devil in her aspect ! Crazed fool or 
 fiend, thou shalt no longer provoke me !" 
 
 And closing with her, he endeavoured to violently wrench 
 the offending Symbol from her hands, the while she fought 
 for its retention with the breathless rage and tenacity of some 
 savage creature, till in the struggle, the Cross bent and snapped 
 in twain. At this, she gave a cry of despair, and snatching 
 her dagger from her girdle, sprang upon her priestly lover and 
 stabbed him with a furious thrust that sent him reeling. 
 Staggering 11 backward, he fell senseless on the ground, the blood 
 gushing freely from his wound, and she, stooping over him, 
 Btared at her own work in a dazed, wild wonder. Then, drop-
 
 2M BARABBAS 
 
 pins both the dagger and the fragments of the Cross upon his 
 bleeding body, she rushed away in frantic fear, and fled, like 
 a phantom of the moon and shadow, out into the brooding 
 silence of the night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 MEANTIME, around the holy sepulchre the guard kept vigi- 
 lant watch. Behind it and on either side, armed men paced 
 evenly to and fro, in front of it the fierce and martial Galbus 
 stood at the doorway of his tent, leaning upon his tall lance 
 and surveying the scenery around him. There was a singular 
 soft freshness in the air, a bland and soothing perfume, as 
 though the breathings of a thousand flowers were floating over 
 the land on the drifting wings of a lazy southern wind. The 
 moon, airily rolling through the clear ether like a golden 
 bubble, cast long mellow beams upon the piled-up glistening 
 rocks of the sacred tomb and the burnt brown turf that 
 sparsely covered the little hills, the stars, dimmed in lustre 
 by this greater radiance, seemed wandering through a labyrinth 
 of light mist and rainbow-tinted haloes. A great calm pre- 
 vailed ; the small pennon on the top of Galbus's tent, hung 
 limp without the faintest flutter; a bush of myrtle close by 
 had such a stillness in its leaves that it looked like an artificial 
 semblance of itself, deftly carved and coloured by some in- 
 genious human craftsman. Not a sound could be heard, save 
 the muffled tread of the soldiers' sandalled feet, and Galbus, 
 somewhat oppressed by the silence as well as by the heat of 
 the atmosphere, began to grumble to himself sotto-voce for 
 want of anything better to do. 
 
 " How they will laugh in Rome at this folly !" he said 
 " Did any one ever dream the like ! I, Galbus, a man who 
 hath seen war. one who hath counted his ten corpses to a 
 round of fighting, set here to watch that a corpse escape not ! 
 By the gods ! The suspicious imagining of these Jew priests 
 doth pass all patience ; they deem that the poor, wild, half- 
 starved-looking followers of the crucified ' Nazarene ' will steal 
 His body, forgetting that it would need at least half-a-dozen 
 men of stout sinew to move so much as yonder stone that 
 closeth up the grave, and even then 'twould be displaced with
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 245 
 
 difficulty. Well, well ! The night will soon be gone and this 
 crazy business finished ; 'twill be as I say, matter for laughter 
 ia Rome when I tell them how I and fourteen picked men out 
 of my hundred were forced to guard a poor dead body lest it 
 should rise again." 
 
 Lifting his helmet to cool his brows, he rubbed his eyes and 
 yawned. 
 
 " Were I to sleep now," he soliloquised " yon crafty 
 Caiaphas, discovering it, would manage so as to lose me my 
 post. Was ever such a petulant priest ! and subtle therewithal, 
 even as Volpian, he who doth serve Diana's altar in Home, and 
 out of purest zeal, doth ravish many a fair virgin ! They're 
 all alike, these so-called ' holy ' men, no son of mine shall 
 ever be a priest I warrant ! This was the crime of the dead 
 'Nazarene' from all that I can gather, He sought to do 
 away with priestcraft, a mighty task, Jove knoweth ! And 
 now I call to mind yon aged soul who prayed here in the 
 morning for his ' little maid ' the feeble fool ! he met me in 
 the town yonder, a-sliaking like a wind-blown reed for joy 
 ' Good sir !' cried he, ' the little maid is saved !' And then he 
 swore, with tears, that the fever left her at the very hour he made 
 petition to yon sealed-up tomb ! Heaven help him for a crazed 
 frail creature I the superstitions of these country folk are 
 strange and sometimes devilish, nevertheless I hear on all sides 
 that this young Prophet out of Nazareth was a good man, and 
 pitiful. By my soul !" and he yawned again " 'Tis a night for 
 peaceful slumber, yet I may not drowse, lest while I close my 
 eyes, unheard-of powers disturb the air " 
 
 "Galbus! Galbus! Hist! Galbus !" 
 
 " What now ?" he answered sharply, as the soldier who had 
 thus called him hurriedly approached " Why leavest thou thy 
 post ?" 
 
 " Fidius is there," said the young man apologetically, as he 
 paused to salute his superior officer " I called thee so that thou 
 should' st listen." 
 
 " Listen? To what?" demanded Galbus impatiently " There 
 i no sound but thy gruff voice and mine. Thou art a dreamer, 
 Maximus, thy mother told me so." 
 
 Maximus, a tall stalwart Roman of handsome face and figure, 
 smiled deprecatingly, but at the same time held up his hand to 
 enjoin attention. 
 
 " Nay, I dream not, Galbus ; I pray thee hearken ! 'tis some 
 unknown bird that sings !" 
 
 21*
 
 246 S ARABS AS 
 
 The grim centurion stared at him, half in indignation, half 
 in surprise. 
 
 " Bird !" he echoed " There are few birds in Palestine I 
 warrant thee ! and what there are must be as dry-throated as 
 the locusts in the corn." 
 
 " Hush !" whispered Maximus " It begins again !" 
 
 And before Galbus could utter another word, a silvery ripple 
 of music floated towards him, a flow of gurgling notes, full 
 and pure and honey-sweet, notes such as no nightingale in 
 moonlit woods ever sang even in the most ardent time of nest- 
 ing tenderness. The amazement on the centurion's face deep- 
 ened into rapture, grasping his lance firmly with both hands 
 he leaned against it silently listening, and lost in wonder. The 
 hidden bird sang on ; and it seemed as if some wondrous 
 meaning was enclosed within its song, for the fascination of 
 striving to follow the thread of its rich rhythm intensified with 
 every sweet tone that sounded on the still air. All at once it 
 ceased, but its broken melody was taken up by a companion 
 singer who had evidently found a resting-place within the 
 bush of myrtle that grew close by the sacred tomb. This 
 second bird warbled even more rapturously than the first, 
 and while the clear torrent of tune poured forth passion to 
 the silence another soldier hastily advanced, eagerly exclaim- 
 ing* 
 
 " Galbus ! Hearest thou this music ?" 
 
 Galbus started, . . . there was a strange moisture in his 
 eyes, he had been lost in thought, and the face of his little 
 daughter who had died when barely three years of age had 
 flitted or appeared to flit for a moment between him and the 
 glittering moon. The sight of a second man wandering away 
 from his post served as a timely check to his emotions and he 
 struck the butt-end of his lance into the ground with a well- 
 affected air of anger. 
 
 " By the gods ! Can'st thou not hear a bird sing, without 
 running hither like a prattling babe to tell me of it ? Back to 
 thy place, and quickly ! Knowest thou not that we are bound 
 to keep guard to-night with more than usual circumspection ? 
 and shall we all be scattered like sheep at the twittering of 
 birds ? Maximus, be ashamed ! Thou hast set a bad example ; 
 get hence, thou too, and pay closer heed to thy duty, who 
 knows whether there may not be sorcery in this singing !" 
 
 A flush of vexation mounted to the brows of the young 
 Maximus at the implied reproach, but he said nothing, and
 
 A DREAM OF TEE WORLD'S TRAGEDT 24? 
 
 immediately retired. His post was not more than three or foui 
 yards from where Galbus stood, and feeling somewhat weary, 
 he sat down inside one of the tents to rest. There, leaning hit 
 head on his hand, he still listened to the sweet chirping voices 
 that now sounded louder and clearer than ever. The othd 
 soldier also went back to his place, crestfallen, but obedient 
 and Galbus was left to himself, to gaze at the sailing moon, and 
 drink in the magical tenderness of the chorus that floated round 
 and round the quiet sepulchre of the Crucified in ever- widen 
 ing circles of delicious harmony. And presently, all the met. 
 ou guard, rather than disturb such music by the clank of theii- 
 armour or the tread of their sandals, sat within their tents, all 
 silent, all enthralled into languid peace by a mystic and 
 imperceptibly deepening spell. 
 
 " 'Tis wondrous, I will not deny it," murmured Galbus 
 after a while, seating himself also just within the door of his 
 own small pavilion and composing himself to fresh attention 
 " First it was one bird, and now it seems as if there were 
 twenty. Never did I hear such singing in Palestine ! They 
 may be birds of passage, yet from whence would they come, 
 and whither would they speed ? And wherefore should they 
 choose such a resting-place as these arid hills? or such an 
 hour for tuning up their songs as now ?" 
 
 He sat absorbed, his mind soothed and satisfied by the 
 delicate pipings of the invisible little throats that seemed as if 
 they must burst with the fulness and delight of song. 
 
 And, further off, there was another listener to the marvellous 
 music, one whose presence there that night was totally un- 
 suspected by the guard. This was Barabbas. He lay unseen 
 in the hollow of the hill behind the sepulchre, and heard the 
 melting melody in rapt wonder. He knew the country round 
 Jerusalem well, he had known it from boyhood ; but he had 
 never heard sweet singing-birds till now. He could not un- 
 derstand it ; it was to him much more than what was called a 
 miracle. The air was so very still, the little trees were so 
 motionless, the very blades of stunted grass so stiffly upright, 
 that the rippling notes seemed produced by some power un- 
 earthly. It might have been the liquid sounding of fairy 
 flutes in the air, or dainty arpeggi struck from golden strings, 
 only that the voices were most truly bird-like, full of nightin- 
 gale-warbles and luscious trills. And by and by the same 
 sense of peace and happiness stole on the tired soul of Barab- 
 bas as had come to the war-worn centurion on guard , gradually
 
 248 BARABBAS 
 
 he grew lost in a sort of blissful dream, scarcely knowing what 
 he thought or what he felt. When he had told Melchior of 
 his intent to keep secret vigil near the tomb of the " Nazarene,' 
 that incomprehensible personage had looked grave, but had not 
 forbidden him, only saying gently 
 
 " Take heed, lest when the Master cometh, He find you 
 sleeping !" 
 
 This was a strange saying! nevertheless here he was; 
 determined not to sleep, but to remain broadly, fully awake, so 
 that he might be able to testify in plain language as to what 
 happened, if indeed anything should happen. Yet he was 
 conscious of a drowsiness in the air, of a lulling rhythm in 
 the dulcet singing of the unseen feathered choir, that was in- 
 expressibly soothing, and he found difficulty in resisting the 
 tempting languor that by slow and insensible degrees began to 
 take possession of him. He tried to think of various practical 
 things, of the terror which had evidently seized the disciples 
 of the dead " Nazarene," causing them to hide themselves in 
 the lowest quarters of the city, and entirely give up any attempt 
 to visit the guarded tomb of their perished Master, of the ex- 
 treme precautions of Caiaphas, of the continued indisposition 
 of Pilate, of the suicide of Judas Iscariot, then, of the 
 strayed Judith, . . . and here his mind recoiled upon itself 
 as it were, with inward trembling. The thought of her was 
 singularly depressing and unwelcome to him just at this 
 moment, he could not have told why, but so it was. It 
 would be well for her if she were dead, he told himself sorrow- 
 fully, better for her, a thousand times, better even for him. 
 He would be glad to die, he thought, that curious sense of 
 detachment from earth and utter indifference to existence had 
 come to him as it comes at certain epochs to us all, when 
 death with its darkness and deep silence, seems a sweeter, 
 kinder, and more valuable boon than life. 
 
 He flung himself back full length in the turfy hollow and 
 lay staring up at the stars and the moon. How those birds 
 sang ! How sweetly the fragrant wind breathed through tho 
 dried and faintly rustling grass ! He stretched his arms out 
 on either side of him with a sigh of lazy comfort, and pres- 
 ently took a singular pleasure in observing that he had un- 
 consciously assumed the attitude of one preparing to be cruci- 
 fiecT He began to wonder idly how it would feel if huge nails 
 were driven forcibly through his open palms, as had been done 
 to his former comrade Hanan, and to Him they called the
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 249 
 
 "Nazarene." Involuntarily closing his fingers on a tuft of 
 grass he suddenly felt that he had grasped something foreign 
 to the soil, and looking to see what he held, he found he had 
 pulled up a small bell-shaped blossom, pure white and delicately 
 scented. He examined it attentively ; he had never beheld its 
 like before. But there was such a listless heaviness upon him 
 that he had no desire to lift himself up and search for more 
 such flowers, had he done so he would have witnessed a 
 fairy-like and strange spectacle. For, from base to summit of 
 the hills around, the brown turf was rapidly being covered up 
 out of sight by masses of snowy bloom, breaking upwards like 
 white foam, thousands and thousands of blossoms started 
 from the trembling earth, that earth which panted with the 
 knowledge of a Divine Redemption, and yearned to pay its 
 glorious Master homage. And the hidden birds sang on, 
 sweetly, passionately, triumphantly ; and round the holy sepul- 
 chre the soldiers nodded on the benches within their tents, half 
 sleeping, wholly dreaming, of love, of home, of kindred, of dear 
 and precious memories such as never were expressed or written. 
 Only the young Maximus forced himself to keep wide awake ; 
 the reproach of Galbus had stung his military pride, and he 
 resolved to be more than doubly vigilant in his watch. So, 
 though he longed to fling himself down upon the turf and rest 
 a while, he resisted the oppression that lay heavy upon him, 
 and rising, walked slowly to and fro, glancing now and then 
 dubiously and half compassionately at his drowsing comrades. 
 He was not inclined to rouse them, he meant to win some 
 special praise for keener vigilance than they. His tall figure cast 
 a gigantic shadow in the moonlight, as he paced leisurely up 
 and down, and he watched this spectral exaggeration of him- 
 self in a curiously philosophic mood. What kind of a world 
 would it have been, he thought, if the shadow of man had 
 never fallen upon it? Drearnly pondering this wholly un- 
 answerable question, he was all at once startled out of his 
 reverie by a great light that fell in one keen, dazzling flash 
 straight i'rom the heavens, sweeping the shadow of himself into 
 naught, and playing about him in running, intertwisting rings 
 of flame ! Amazed, he looked up, and saw in the east a vivid 
 rose-red radiance that widened out swiftly even as he gazed 
 upon it, while across the ruddy tint there appeared bright 
 perpendicular bars of gold like a vision of the gates of Eden. 
 Shaking oft 7 the strange stupor that numbed his senses and 
 held him for a moment inert, he sprang quickly to the side of
 
 250 BARABBAS 
 
 Galbus who, seated in his tent and leaning against his spear 
 was all but fast asleep. 
 
 " Gdbus ! Galbus !" 
 
 Galbus at once leaped fiercely erect with a defiant look as 
 though threatening with death any one who should presume 
 to say that he had slumbered. 
 
 Maximus, trembling, seized him by the arm, and half in 
 terror, half in expectancy, pointed eastward. 
 
 " Galbus, the watch is ended ! Lo, the Dawn 1" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 GALBUS stared wildly with dazzled eyes. 
 
 " The dawn ? ... the dawn, sayest thou ?" he muttered 
 thickly " Nay, nay ! . . . never did dawn break thus strangely !" 
 And his bronzed features grew pale. " 'Tis fire ! ... or light- 
 ning! . . . Maxinius, Maximus, my sight fails me, . . . 
 yonder glory hath a marvel in it ! . . . 'tis blinding to the 
 sight! . . . ye gods, look! . . . look there!" 
 
 Dropping his lance, he stretched out both arms towards the 
 sky, losing breath and utterance in the excess of his amazement 
 and fear ; Maximus. speechless too, clung to him, gazing with 
 equal dread and wonder at the terrific splendour that cast its 
 glory round them and illumined all the visible earth. For 
 now, out of the burning centre of that eastward blaze of crim- 
 son, there rose up a double, fan-shaped, diamond-shining white- 
 ness as of huge unfolding misty wings, towering aloft, these 
 aerial pinions extended towards the south, while from the north, 
 another exactly similar and equally dazzling Appearance made 
 itself visible against a gleaming background of' smooth gold. 
 Then, all at once, with a sudden sharp tremor the earth 
 shook ; and there came the impetuous rush aud whirl of a 
 mighty wind that bent the trees like blades of grass and seemed 
 to scatter the very stars in heaven like a swarm of frightened 
 fireflies, and with the surging sound that mysterious Winged 
 Whiteness began to sweep forward at the swift and flashing 
 pace of lightning 1 
 
 " Galbus, Galbus !" gasped Maximus, falling down and cov- 
 ering his face in a paroxysm of fear " Kneel kneel ! for
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 251 
 
 we must die ! The gods descend ! Behold them where they 
 come!" 
 
 With straining eyeballs and panting breath, Galbus gave one 
 upward frenzied stare, . . . his swooning senses could but 
 just dimly realise that surely the powers of Heaven were upon 
 him, and that death, sudden and relentless, must be his inevi- 
 table fate. How could mortal strength uphold mortal man at 
 such a sight ! . . . how could human vision bear the fearful 
 dazzlement and marvel of what he, for one dizzy second, gazed 
 upon! . . . Two majestic Shapes, the transfigured and ethereal 
 semblances of a glorified humanity, flashing with a brightness 
 celestial, a splendour invincible, grew up, as it were, in stately 
 stature out of the molten-golden east, and seemingly impelled 
 by wind and fire, floated meteor-like through space, and to- 
 gether silently descended at the closed tomb of the " Naza- 
 rene." One of these supernal Beings appeared robed in white 
 fire his lustrous countenance, gleaming as with lightning, 
 shone from between pale glistening locks of gold on which a 
 halo rested, like a crown. As this glorious Messenger touched 
 earth, the ground rocked, and the divided air recoiled upon 
 itself with a roll and a roar of thunder. Prone on the turf 
 Galbus fell senseless and dead for the time being, . . . and in 
 that one thrilling moment no living man beheld the splendid 
 declaration of the Divine, save one, Barabbas. He, when 
 the great light flashed around him, when the whirlwind and 
 the thunder swept surgingly across the hills, had crawled forth 
 from his hiding-place and now, crouching on the grass in a 
 dumb agony of trembling, stared at the supernatural sight 
 unforbidden for a brief space, too dazzled to realise all its 
 meaning and majesty, and believing that he must be wrapt in 
 some wild and glittering dream, . . . when, even as he looked, 
 a sharp brilliance, like the cutting sting of a lash struck him 
 across the eyes, and he, too, swayed blindly back and plunged 
 into the darkness of a swoon that was like death. 
 
 Quivering to its deepest underground fibres, the earth sup- 
 ported the glowing forms of God's ethereal envoys ; together 
 they stood, the fire of their white transparent wings quenching 
 the silver reflex of the sinking moon, their radiant faces 
 turned towards the closed sepulchre wherein their Master slept. 
 Again the great wind rushed in resonant harp-like chords 
 through heaven, again the ground rocked and trembled, and 
 again the thunder sounded its deep trump of wakening elo- 
 quence. And all the mystic voices of the air seemed whisper-
 
 252 B ARABS AS 
 
 ing the great Truths about to be made manifest ; " Death is 
 dead ; Life is Eternal ! God is Love !" 
 
 Like kindled flames upon the sombre soil, the Angels of the 
 Message waited side by side, their heavenly eyes luminous with 
 Divine rapture, and the light upon their brows flinging glorious 
 reflections far up in twinkling points of radiance to the van- 
 ishing stars. The dawn was near, the strong suspense of 
 Nature was at its keenest pitch, it seemed as if what we know 
 of Creation could endure the strain no more, as if the world, 
 the sun, the moon, the visible planets, must melt away like 
 drops of dew in the burning fervour of so vast an ecstasy of 
 expectation. The dawn was near ! that Dawn which would 
 be like no other dawn that ever heralded a day, the dawn of 
 all the hope, the joy, the faith, the love that waits upon the prom- 
 ised certainty of life immortal ; that priceless promise given to 
 those who are willing to accept it without question or mistrust, 
 and who, loving their fellow-men better than themselves, in 
 God and for God, touch heavenly ecstasy while yet on earth. 
 
 And now a deep silence reigned. All the soldiers of the 
 watch lay stretched on the ground unconscious, as though 
 struck dead by lightning, the previous mysterious singing of 
 the birds had ceased ; and only the lambent quivering of the 
 wing-like glory surrounding the angelic Messengers, seemed to 
 make an expressed though unheard sound as of music. Then, 
 ... in the midst of the solemn hush, . . . the great stone 
 that closed the tomb of the Crucified trembled, . . . and was 
 suddenly thrust back like a door flung open in haste for the 
 exit of a King, . . . and lo ! . . . a Third great Angel joined 
 the other two ! . . . Sublimely beautiful He stood, the Risen 
 from the Dead 1 ... gazing with loving eyes on all the swoon- 
 ing sleeping world of men ; the same grand Countenance that 
 had made a glory of the Cross of Death, now, with a smile 
 of victory, gave poor Humanity the gift of everlasting Life ! 
 The grateful skies brightened above Him, earth exhaled its 
 choicest odours through every little pulsing leaf and scented 
 herb and tree ; Nature exulted in the touch of things eternal, 
 and the dim pearly light of the gradually breaking morn 
 fell on all things with a greater purity, a brighter blessedness 
 than ever had invested it before. The Man Crucified and 
 Risen, now manifested in Himself the mystic mingling of God 
 in Humanity, and taught that for the powers of the Soul set 
 free from sin, there is no limit, no vanquishment, no end. No 
 more eternal partings for those who on the earth should learn to
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 25S 
 
 love each other, no more the withering hopelessness of de- 
 spair, the only " death" now possible to redeemed mortality 
 heing " the bondage of sin" voluntarily entered into and pre- 
 ferred by the unbelieving. And from this self-wrought, self- 
 chosen doom not even a God can save. 
 
 Reverently bent were the radiant heads of the angelic 
 Beings that had descended in full flight from Heaven ; but He 
 who stood erect between them, tall and majestically fair, looked 
 upward once, then straight across the silent landscape and, 
 stretching forth His hands, seemed by the tenderness of the ges- 
 ture to place His benediction on the world. A light grey mist was 
 rising incense-like from the eastern edge of the horizon, the 
 crimson glory lately flaming there had paled into the faint pink 
 of a blush rose-petal, and a soothing shadow stole impercepti- 
 bly over the scene, toning down into silver lines the departing 
 rays of that supernatural splendour which had been like the 
 beginning of a new creation. Slowly, very slowly, the tran- 
 scendent brightness round the form of the Risen Redeemer 
 faded into air, His Human Shape became more and more 
 clearly defined, till almost He looked with the same aspect He 
 had worn in the hall of Pilate, when man's law had condemned 
 Him to suffer man's death. Only there rested a sublimer 
 glory on His countenance : the expression of a power omnipo- 
 tent ; a beauiy terrific ; a knowledge supernal that made Him 
 wonderful even in the sight of His serving-angels of Heaven. 
 To them presently His high command was silently expressed, 
 for one bright Being vanished like a melting cloud within the 
 opened sepulchre, and the other, moving to the great stone of 
 burial that had been rolled away, rested upon it, a shining 
 Wonder, clothed in white wings. 
 
 Meanwhile He who had proved Death to be but another 
 name for Life, began to pace" pensively to and fro among the 
 tangled shrubs and vines that in their careless and untrained 
 luxuriance gave to the otherwise dreary burial-spot, something 
 of a wild beauty. He moved as though He loved the world, 
 even to the very blades of grass His feet passed gently over ; 
 the leaves upon their branches bent towards Him as taking 
 health and joy from His fair Presence, and fearlessly seeking 
 His blessing. And ever as He moved, His aspect grew more 
 human ; out of the secret depths of space He seemed to clothe 
 Himself anew with the fleeting semblance of mortality. Now 
 and again He paused, and gazed at the senseless forms around 
 Him of all those who had been set to guard His resting-place, 
 22
 
 254 BAR ABB AS 
 
 and then the mystic watchfulness and deep compassion of His 
 6yes reflected the vast, impersonal and changeless love which 
 emanates from the Divine alone. Passing slowly among them 
 with noiseless tread, the while they lay inert, unconscious of 
 His nearness (even as we, at this time, in our blind and selfish 
 torpor are unconscious or indifferent when He comes), He 
 presently approached the spot where the sinner who should, in 
 justice, have suffered instead of Him had fallen as one dead, 
 Barabbas. Stretched flat upon the turf, with arms extended 
 on either side of him as though the earth were a cross and he 
 the criminal nailed to it, his dark countenance and closed eyes 
 fronting the sky, the erring, passion-haunted man was ready for 
 some punishment, some instant withering doom. Stained with 
 the crime of murder, branded as a thief, and full of a thousand 
 follies and germinating sins, what had he done that he should 
 merit all the pity and the pardon that flashed upon him like a 
 glory from the tender glance of the risen Christ 1 What had 
 he done? why, nothing in truth, he could, he would do 
 nothing worthy. Only a thought of love had been in his dark 
 soul for the sorrows of the Man Crucified, and he had shed 
 tears for the sufferings of the holiest Innocence that ever was 
 maligned by human malice ; he had longed to understand, to 
 know, to serve this splendid Ideal of the Ages, and this was 
 all. Yet this sufficed to bring the glorious Master to his side ; 
 though as that Master looked upon him, a shade of sorrow 
 darkened the beautiful Divine brows, the shadow and pre- 
 sentiment of what was yet to be. There, made visible in Barab- 
 bas, was the symbol of the animal man, blindly conscious of the 
 creative Soul of the Universe, yet doubting all manifestations 
 of that Soul, and thrusting his own narrow fears and scepti- 
 cisms forward to obstruct and bar out the very presence of the 
 Eternal. And beside him, in strange contrast, stood the jmre 
 and stately embodiment of the Spirit of God made human, 
 the example of a perfect manhood ; the emblem of life and 
 the symbol of Genius, which, slandered and tortured, and slain 
 and buried, rises eternally triumphant over evil and death. 
 
 A faint sigh stirred the air, the sigh of One who knew 
 that by the pitiless will of Man, He should be wronged and 
 spiritually re-crucified for ages ; and then the risen Light of 
 the World turned away and glided among the little trembling 
 trees, His figure gradually becoming a mere misty outline, 
 vague and undefinable as though it were the floating shadow of 
 a dream. Two hours had yet to pass ere the sun would rise,
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 255 
 
 meanwhile a fragrant freshness sweetened the breaking dawn, 
 and all Nature remained absorbed in a sacred silence of en- 
 raptured worship, conscious that the Master and Lord of Life 
 was now, as once before in oldest time, " walking in His garden 
 in the cool of the day." 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 SHUDDERING in every limb with pain and chilly fear, Barab- 
 bas presently awoke from his long swoon. Something had hap- 
 pened, but what ? He rubbed his aching eyes and lifted 
 himself into a half-sitting posture, looking uneasily about him. 
 Dully he considered his position ; he was in his old place on the 
 hill behind the sepulchre ; the place where he had watched, 
 until until, as it seemed, a strange thing had chanced to him 
 which now he could not quite remember. A dream had daz- 
 zled him, he thought, and scared his senses from him. He 
 imagined he had seen two supernatural Shapes, formed as it 
 were, out of floating pyramidal fire, descending near the tomb 
 of the " Nazarene," but ere he had had time to look upon 
 them straightly, a dizziness had seized him, and he saw no 
 more. 
 
 " Take heed, lest when the Master cometh, He find you 
 sleeping" These words, spoken to him by the man Melchior, 
 ere he had started to take up his self-imposed vigil, recurred to 
 him unpleasantly now and troubled him ; had he slept after all ? 
 And had the " Master" come? 
 
 Rising slowly to his feet, he gazed from left to right of him ; 
 ' all things seemed the same. The tents of the soldiers on guard 
 gleamed whitely in the pallid grey of dawn ; the men had evi- 
 dently not yet left their posts, though the night was fully past 
 and the sense of sunrise was in the air. There was something 
 peculiarly beautiful in the clear freshness of that wondrous 
 morning. The world appeared new ; as though it were con- 
 scious of the victory of the Soul over Death, and Barabbas, 
 pained and puzzled though he was, felt the comfort of the deep 
 tranquillity and restfulness around him. Dismissing his fore- 
 bodings, he began to think he would boldly go to the sepulchre, 
 and seek out Galbus to ask him how he had fared during the
 
 256 BARABBAS 
 
 night, then, on further reflection he hesitated, for if, after all, 
 anything unusual should have occurred, he, Barabbas, might be 
 suspected of having had some share in it. While he stood thus 
 irresolute, soft approaching steps startled him, and he quickly 
 crouched down again behind a bend of the hill where he could 
 see without being seen. Three women were coming up the 
 road from the city, the foremost one of the group was Mary 
 Magdalene. Her head was bent sorrowfully ; she moved list- 
 lessly and with an air of deep melancholy, in her hands she 
 carried flowers and sweet herbs, and delicate odours seemed to 
 be exhaled from her garments as she moved. She and her 
 companions exchanged no words ; they all seemed stricken by 
 the silence of an absolute despair. As they passed by the spot 
 where Barabbas lay concealed, he lifted himself cautiously up 
 to look after them and wondered whether it would be safe or 
 prudent to follow in their track. They appeared like misty 
 phantoms floating along in the pearly hues of dawn ; but he 
 could see the golden glint of the Magdalen's hair flash like a 
 eunbeam as she turned round by the shelving rocks of the 
 sepulchre and disappeared. Poor, wistful, woebegone women, 
 lie thought ! they went to visit the dead, the dead " Man of 
 Nazareth" whose wondrous smile of love and pardon would 
 never lighten their lonely lives again ! Alas, for them, that in 
 their clinging faithfulness, they should of sud and morbid choice 
 renew their useless anguish by gazing once more upon the 
 cruelly unflinching stillness and rigidity of the frozen monster 
 Death which never yields its once-gained prey for all the clamour 
 of tender women's tears ! So Barabbas mused compassionately, 
 though his mind was swayed between doubt and fear whenever 
 the recollection of his last night's " dream" occurred to him, 
 that dream of angels which had blinded him with its excess of 
 light. 
 
 Suddenly a piercing cry echoed through the silence, and two 
 of the women came rushing back along the road in a panic of 
 haste and fear. Throwing personal precaution to the winds. 
 Barabbas sprang out from his hiding-place and confronted 
 them. 
 
 "What now?" he demanded excitedly "Speak speak! 
 What news?" 
 
 " He is risen ! He is risen !" they cried, their eager voices 
 struggling together for quickest utterance " The seals of the 
 tomb are broken, the stone is rolled away, and an Angel of 
 the Lord is there ! He is risen 1"
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 257 
 
 Trembling with agitation, Barabbas thrust himself in their 
 path as they strove to run past him. 
 
 " Ye are mad 1 surely ye are mad I" he exclaimed 
 " Whither go ye ?" 
 
 Impatiently they pointed towards the city. 
 
 " Yonder ! to summon His disciples. Go ! see the place 
 where the Lord lay ! None shall hinder thee ; the keepers are 
 as dead men. He is risen ! He is risen !" 
 
 And they pursued their swift course down the road as though 
 impelled along by invisible wings. 
 
 Barabbas waited no longer, but ran impetuously at a head- 
 long pace towards the sepulchre, every pulse in his body beating 
 with feverish excitement. As he approached it however, he 
 involuntarily slackened his speed, stricken with wonder and 
 affright at the strange scene. It was true ! the " keepers" 
 were " as dead men ;" Galbus and his band of soldiers were 
 all prone upon the ground like corpses flung there after a battle, 
 and what had seemed the impossible had been effected, in 
 that the tomb was open, and the huge stone rolled away. And 
 the Angel of whom the women spoke? Barabbas could see 
 no Angel, though he fancied that on the displaced stone there 
 glittered a singular bright light that made it shine like a block 
 of polished gold. He rubbed his eyes dubiously : such marvels 
 made him distrust the evidence of his own senses, yet, there 
 at the entrance of the opened tomb, lay something human, 
 something in distress, the fallen form of the Magdalen who 
 seemed to have swooned. Barabbas would have approached 
 her, but an invisible force held him to the spot where he 
 stood, smitten with strong awe and fear, and he dared not 
 advance a step. And while he yet looked, he saw her move, 
 'and presently she rose up feebly, and with tottering steps 
 stooped towards the sepulchre as though to enter in. Then all 
 suddenly a calm Voice sounded on the deep silence, a Voice 
 of pure unearthly music sweeter than all we know of sweetest 
 sound. 
 
 " Woman, why weepest thou f" 
 
 Thrilled with amazement and dread, Barabbas saw her sink 
 upon her knees and raise her hands in passionate supplication. 
 
 " Because" . . . and her trembling accents were broken by 
 low weeping " they have taken away my Lord and I know 
 not where they have laid Him !" 
 
 A deep silence followed. The golden glory vanished from 
 the stone that had been rolled away. and another light began 
 22*
 
 258 BARABBAS 
 
 to shine the first heraldic blazon of the rising sun. Un- 
 answered and uncomforted, the Magdalen hid her face in her 
 clasped hands, she had seen a vision of angels ; one at the 
 head and one at the foot of the sepulchred niche where her 
 Master had reposed in temporary death, but what are all the 
 angels in paradise worth to Love, if the Beloved be missing? 
 And stricken to the heart by despair and loneliness, she wept 
 on, crouched at the entrance of the vacant tomb, her slight 
 frame shaken by the tempest of her grief for the loss of the 
 dead outward Semblance of Him whose pardon had reclaimed 
 her life. But while she thus gave way to the abandonment 
 of sorrow, the enchained spectator of the scene, Barabbas, 
 suddenly became conscious of a majesty and a terror filling the 
 air; some great Splendour suggested itself vaguely like the 
 thunderous thrill of the atmosphere preceding a storm. Faint 
 and trembling he felt rather than saw that a Figure was ad- 
 vancing from the sheltering shadow of the few trees that sur- 
 rounded the sepulchre, . . . and slowly, slowly, in a mortal 
 anguish of dread and expectation he turned, and beheld in 
 very truth, in very life, . . . the " Nazarene" ! He, the 
 Crucified, the Slain and Buried, stood there living, looking 
 even as He looked before He had been nailed upon the Cross 
 to die, the same, the same in every feature, as human-seeming 
 as Humanity itself, save that His vesture appeared woven out 
 of glittering mist and fire 1 Breathless, giddy, and unable to 
 articulate the feeblest cry, Barabbas stared upon Him, fully 
 recognising the fair beauty of His countenance, the lustrous 
 love and wisdom of His eyes, yet afraid to believe this Miracle 
 a Truth. In aerial stateliness He passed by without sound, and 
 glided, a Kingly Spirit in mortal aspect, to where the Magda- 
 len wept alone. There, pausing, He spoke, His dulcet accents 
 charming the stillness to responsive pulsations of harmony 
 
 " Woman, why weepest thouf Whom seekest thou?" 
 
 Moving restlessly she half turned round and gazed vaguely 
 up through the obscuring cloud of her tears and falling hair, 
 only seeing that some one, she knew not who, stood beside her, 
 questioning her as to her cause of grief. And with a shudder- 
 ing sigh she drooped her head again and answered wearily 
 
 " Sir, if thou hast borne Him hence, tell me where thou 
 hast laid Him, and I will take Him away" 
 
 "Mary!" 
 
 The sweet name, set among holy things for ever, fell softly 
 on the silence like' a song.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAQED7 259 
 
 She started, sprang up to her full height, gazed wildly, 
 . . . wonderingly, . . . incredulously, . . . then, with a 
 shriek of joy that seemed to echo to the very skies, she fell on 
 her knees. 
 
 "Master! Master!" she cried, and stretched forth her 
 hands towards that Risen Saviour whose living Presence was 
 the sign of rescue for the world. 
 
 But now alight celestial environed Him, the earth trembled 
 where He stood, and with a warning yet gentle gesture He 
 motioned her away. 
 
 " Touch Me not, for I am but newly risen /" 
 
 And as He said these words a splendour flashed about Hia 
 form like fire, He lifted 1 His eyes to the brightening heavens 
 and all the radiant hues of morning seemed to float around Him 
 and melt above Him in rings upon rings of ever-widening lustre, 
 while the arrowy beams of the sun, shooting upwards through 
 the clear ether, formed as it were upon the edge of the horizon 
 a great Crown of the Universe for the glory of Him alone. 
 Divinity invested Him with an unspeakable grandeur and 
 majesty, and when His voice again sounded through space, it 
 rang with the clarion note of supreme command and resistless 
 power. 
 
 " Go /" and extending His arms He appeared to indicate 
 by one royal, all-comprehensive gesture His sovereignty over 
 things visible and invisible " Go, tell My brethren that / 
 ascend / Unto My Father and your father, unto My God 
 and your God /" 
 
 One thrilling instant more His creatures looked upon Him, 
 the Magdalen in rapt and speechless ecstasy, Barabbas in 
 stupefied, fascinated amazement mingled with a strange qualm 
 of unbelief and misgiving, then, all at once there came a 
 great blankness over the land, an emptiness and sense of 
 desolation, the Kingly Conqueror of Death no longer lent the 
 lustre of His beauty to the breaking day. He was gone ! 
 He had vanished like a summer cloud absorbed in space ; and 
 only a fragrant cluster of snow-white flowers marked the spot 
 where He had stood. And presently,, across the deep stillness 
 that followed His departure, there came the far off ringing of 
 bells from the city, then the faint stir and hum of wakening 
 life ; the mystic marvels of the night were ended, the first 
 Easter morn spread fully forth its glorious golden blazon, and 
 all aflame with wonder at the scene, the sun rose.
 
 2GO BARABBAS 
 
 CHAPTER XLL 
 
 LIKE the breaking of a charm woven by some wizard incan- 
 tation, the spell which had held Barabbas dumb with awe and 
 fear was suddenly dispersed. Recklessly springing forward 
 without stopping to consider what he did, he confronted the 
 Magdalen who still knelt where her Lord had left her, her en- 
 ravished eyes upturned to heaven as though she saw some mys- 
 tic vision of eternal joys. With hasty ruthlessness, born of a 
 dark suspicion that rankled in his mind, Barabbas seized her by 
 the hands. 
 
 " Wherefore dost thou pray to emptiness ?" he cried loudly 
 " The ' Nazarene' was here a moment since ! Whither hath 
 he fled?" 
 
 Mary started from her trance of worship, trembled, and 
 looked at her fierce questioner in vague yet sweet bewilderment 
 with the half-sad, half-happy smile of one who has been 
 brusquely wakened out of an ecstatic dream. 
 
 " Yea, truly He was here !" she answered in soft accents that 
 thrilled with rapture " Yea truly, though my faltering soul 
 could not at first believe it, He hath risen from the dead I 
 From henceforth who shall fear the terrors of the grave 1 He 
 hath risen ! Verily God hath manifested Himself unto us, 
 and given comfort for the sorrow of the world !" 
 
 She seemed yet entranced, her eyes were luminous, her face 
 glowingly beautiful as that of some inspired angel. Barabbas 
 grew more and more impatient. 
 
 " Woman, thou art dazed or in a vision !" he exclaimed 
 " Thy Master was ever a worker of miracles, and surely He 
 hath worked them in the night that now is past ! Prate not 
 thus of His rising from the dead, for of a truth methinks 
 thou knowest that He hath never died !" 
 
 Slowly Mary rose from her knees and putting back the fall- 
 ing tresses of her long bright hair gzed at him amazedly. 
 
 *" Never died !" she echoed " What meanest thou ? Art 
 thou not Barabbas, and did'st thou not behold Him die? 
 Did'st thou not woep with me for His long agony ? And hast 
 thou not looked upon Him here alive again ? Art thou dis-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 261 
 
 traught that thou believest not in God ? How earnest thou 
 hither ?" 
 
 Barabbas made no answer. His dark brows were knitted 
 frowningly ; his limbs yet trembled from the agitation through 
 which he had passed ; but there was a lowering doubt within 
 him to which he was ashamed to give utterance. He moved 
 to the opening of the vacant tomb and peered in mistrustfully, 
 then after a second's hesitation, stooped down and entered. 
 There was nothing to be seen save the empty stone niche where 
 the " Nazarene" had slept, and the linen grave-clothes which 
 had euswathed Him. These were rolled together and flung 
 aside in one corner. Coming out of the dark recess, he stood 
 silent and dissatisfied ; he longed to give voice to the suspicion 
 that like a mocking devil assailed him and worked mischief in 
 his mind, yet he remained abashed before the tender ecstasy, 
 deep humility and adoring faith of the woman who in the 
 sublimity of perfect love, seemed stronger than himself, made 
 weak and wavering by doubt. Meanwhile, as he waited hesi- 
 tatingly, watching the Magdalen, the broad beams of the sun 
 pouring over the landscape appeared to cause a sudden move- 
 ment among the hitherto inert forms of the soldiers of the 
 watch, and presently one of the men sprang up erect with an 
 amazed look as though he had fallen out of the clouds. 
 
 Ye gods !" he cried loudly" What ! All asleep ? Gal- 
 bus ! Maximus ! Dion 1 Animus ! What ! Broad day and 
 not a man waking 1" 
 
 The clamour he made, and his fashion of prodding his still 
 only half-conscious comrades with the end of his lance began 
 to take effect, but before he could thoroughly rouse them all, 
 Barabbas caught the Magdalen by the arm, and dragging her 
 with him round the bend of the rocks in which the sepulchre i 
 was hewn, escaped from sight ere he could be discovered. 
 
 " Lo, there !" he muttered breathlessly, when he stood safely 
 on the highroad beside Mary, who in her dreamy bewilderment 
 had scarcely comprehended the hurry and alarm of his action 
 " If yonder Romans had seen me by the open tomb they would 
 have sworn I had stolen the body of the ' Nazarene,' for I am 
 branded already as a robber. And thou, even thou would'st 
 not have gone without suspicion, frail woman as thou art, 
 thou mightest have been deemed capable of treachery !" 
 
 His sombre black eyes rested darkly upon her, but she 
 was quite unconscious of any latent significance hidden in his 
 words. Her countenance looked singularly fair and youthful,
 
 262 BARABBAS 
 
 while it was irradiated by a holy joy that made its natural love- 
 liness almost unearthly. 
 
 " Wilt thou now go upon thine errand?" he continued, re- 
 garding her stedfastly " Thy Master gave thee some command, 
 wilt thou fulfil it ? Two of thy friends have sped before thee 
 crying, ' He is risen /' now, do but add thy voice in all its 
 sweet persuasiveness to theirs, and lo I perchance the world 
 will take thy word for truth Divine !" 
 
 She looked at him, first iu amazement, then in sorrow and 
 compassion. 
 
 " Thou poor Barabbas I" she said " Hast thou then looked 
 upon the Master's face, and yet can'st not believe in Him? 
 What aileth thee, thou blind and suffering soul ? In such a 
 time of joy, why chainest thou thyself to misery ? Speak *11 
 thy thought ! what hast thou in thy mind against me ?" 
 
 " Naught against thee in very truth" answered Barabbas 
 slowly and reluctantly, " save that I deem thee overwrought 
 by such a frenzy of strange faith that thou would' st almost 
 force a miracle ! Truly I saw thy Master ; and that He lived 
 and walked and spoke I am prepared to swear, but I repeat 
 to thee my words He is not dead, He never died 1 And 
 thou, Mary of Magdala, knowest this 1" 
 
 Nothing but wonder now filled her clear childlike eyes. 
 
 "What meanest thou?" she asked anxiously "I cannot 
 follow thee, surely thou wanderest in thy speech and 
 reason" 
 
 " Nay, not so !" he interrupted her harshly " I am no 
 woman that I should be duped by feverous visions and the 
 crazed distemper of a vain imagining ! Last night, here on 
 these hills, I too kept secret vigil, and nothing of any import 
 chanced, save a sudden rising of the wind with lightning and 
 thunder. And towards the middle of the watch, a swooning 
 came upon me, my senses reeled, and in the dazzlement of 
 brain and sight, methought the lightning took strange shape 
 and walked upon the land arrayed in wings. This blinded me, 
 and I recall no more, for I lost hold on life till morning. 
 Then, waking, I saw thee and thy companions coming from 
 the city stealthily, and afterwards while I yet waited, the 
 twain who were thy friends came running back possessed by 
 some distraction, and, meeting me, they swore the Crucified 
 had risen from the dead I I believed it not, and even now I 
 still believe it not, though with mine own eyes I have looked 
 upon Him living ! I say that He hath never died, upon the
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 263 
 
 Cross He did but swoon ! Ay ! 'twas a seeming death ! 
 and thou, Mary, did'st so melt the hearts of those who cruci- 
 fied Him that when they took His body from the tree, they 
 gave it into thy charge, and to His Mother, and for pure 
 clemency, did forbear to break His limbs. Doubtless thou 
 also did'st confer with the Arimathean counsellor, to the end 
 that He should be laid within yon unused quiet cave, where 
 in the darkness and cool silence He hath recovered, for was 
 He not a master of the secrets of all healing? Nay, I am 
 sure of nothing, as man I can but reason ! one must be 
 even as a bat or mole not to see through this scheme wrought 
 by the unwise love of women ! Go thy ways, Mary ! perjure 
 thyself no more, 'tis no miracle to me that thus thy Master 
 lives !" 
 
 While he thus spoke in mingled resentment and scorn, she 
 never moved. Listening patiently, her etedfast gaze fixed upon 
 him, she looked the very incarnation of heavenly pity. Her 
 lips trembled apart; she was about to speak, when another 
 voice, clear and imperative, unexpectedly joined in the conver- 
 sation 
 
 " Go thy ways, Mary ! Fulfil thine errand and delay not ; 
 for 'tis the erraud of all true women henceforth unto the end 
 of this world's time. An errand of love and mercy l> be tHou 
 the first one to perform it,. tell the ' brethren' even as thy 
 Master bade thee that He hath risen ! that death is conquered 
 by immortality, and that He ascends ! unto His Father, whom 
 now through Him we know as Father of us all." 
 
 And Melchior stood before them, his eyes flashing a mingled 
 sorrow and satire. Barabbas stared at him afraid and ashamed ; 
 how had he managed to arrive on the scene so silently, that 
 his approach had not even been observed ? Meeting his cold 
 ironic regard, Barabbas felt suddenly humiliated though he 
 could not have told why ; Melchior meanwhile continued, 
 
 " Well hast thou kept thy vigil, friend Barabbas ! as faith- 
 fully and observantly in very truth as those admirable followers 
 of the ' Nazarene,' who when He besought them to watch be- 
 side Him for one hour, could not deprive themselves of sleep 
 for all their boasted love and faithfulness ! Thou, erring and 
 wilful sinner as thou art, hast been privileged to see the Divine 
 and live, and yet thou dost deem a very God, imposture, 
 measured by the ruling of thy finite reason ! Did I not tell 
 thee thou wert man's true type ? and a perfect representative 
 of thy unbelieving race ? Mary, 7 '" and he turned to the Mag-
 
 264 BARABBAS 
 
 dalen with a gentle reverence " I pray thee linger here n<? 
 longer, but haste to bear thy news to those who are bidden 
 to receive it ; though verily 'tis certain that not one, not even 
 the repentant Petrus will at first believe thy tidings. Men 
 will work bravely to support their own lies, but scarce a soul 
 shall be found on earth, willing to bear pure witness to God's 
 Truth. But keep thou thy faith, Mary ! on woman's love 
 and patience rests the world's future." 
 
 She gave one fleeting startled glance at him of questioning 
 surprise and fear, then instinctively obeying his authoritative 
 gesture she hastened away, her grey garments and gold hair float- 
 ing together like mingled sun and cloud as she sped citywards. 
 
 "Thou dark distrustful soul!" then said Melchior to his 
 moody companion, " How deservest thou any kindness of 
 fate, seeing thou hast looked upon a God and known Him not? 
 Heavy would be thy punishment wert thou alone in thy per- 
 versity and sin, but take good comfort ! all thy race are with 
 thee ! thou art, despite thyself the true " King of the Jews 1" 
 Behold the watch where they come, all agape with wonder and 
 dismay I well may they look thus wildly, for their news is of 
 that strangeness that some among them will scarce have skill to 
 utter it. Stand we aside a space while they pass by." 
 
 He drew Barabbas apart, and they both observed with differ- 
 ently mixed feelings, the disorderly and scrambling approach of 
 the soldiers who were coming away from the sepulchre and 
 hurrying towards the town. They all looked only half awake 
 and dazed with bewilderment ; the centurion Galbus no longer 
 headed the band, but walked, or rather stumbled along in the 
 midst, supported by two of his men who held him up appa- 
 rently despite himself. He was ghastly pale, his eyes had a 
 fixed unseeing stare, he seemed like one stricken by paralysis 
 and rendered suddenly old. Melchior glanced at him, and 
 stepped forward 
 
 " Greeting to Home !" he said, confronting the party 
 " What ails your leader ?" 
 
 The soldiers halted, and Maximus who was in command 
 replied curtly 
 
 " We answer no questions from strangers. Stand back 
 and let us pass !" 
 
 Quietly Melchior lifted his right hand, displaying a broad 
 jewelled ring on the centre finger. 
 
 " Be civil, good Roman !" he said " Respect the Emperor's 
 signet."
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 265 
 
 The astonished Maximus hastily saluted, there was no mis- 
 take about the matter, the mysterious stranger did indeed 
 possess the Imperial talisman ; and its authority was immedi- 
 ately recognised. 
 
 "I crave pardon, sir" murmured Maximus apologetically 
 " But in this tributary province of Judaea each man of 
 Rome must be upon his guard " 
 
 u Ay 1 and keep good vigil too, as no doubt ye all have done 
 throughout the night ;" interrupted Melchior " Nothing, of 
 course, hath chanced of any import ? Ye have left the dead 
 safely entombed ?" 
 
 Silence followed. The soldiers looked down confusedly, 
 Maximus shivered as though the warm morning sun chilled 
 him, but the pallid-featured Galbus made no sign, and only 
 stared on vaguely, straight ahead, like a blind man dreaming 
 of light. 
 
 " Sir " replied Maximus after a pause " Of the past night 
 there is much to tell, but methinks it must be told first to 
 those who have the ruling of the law among the Jews. 
 Rome did not slay the ' Nazarene,' and for that death our gov- 
 ernor hath publicly refused to be accountable. Neither can 
 Rome be blamed for what hath now so strangely chanced for 
 lo, the(seals of the Sanhedrim council are broken; the stone 
 that closed the tomb is rolled away ; and the body 'of the cruci- . 
 fied Prophet hath been taken from thence, but how these 
 things were done I know not. I do confess we slept when we 
 should have watched, but truly there were strange sorceries 
 all about us ! A singing of birds was in the air ; so sweet 
 that we were fain to listen and towards morning we beheld 
 thr heavens on fire. that is, Galbus and myself beheld it, for 
 these others slept :" Here he lowered his voice and spoke 
 almost in a whisper " The burden of the telling of this tale 
 devolves on me, for Galbus is deprived of speech, he can ex- 
 press nothing of what he saw, the lightning that flashed 
 across the land hath stricken him wholly dumb !" 
 
 " So shall he bear no garrulous witness to the wonders of 
 the night" said Melchior with a grave and kindly glance at 
 the bent and drooping figure of the lately stalwart centurion, 
 "Yet be consoled, good soldier. 'Tis but a temporary 
 silence and will pass. Whither go ye now? To Pilate?" 
 
 " Yea, to Pilate first and then to Caiaphas" answered 
 Maximus "There shall I plainly speak of what 1 know. 
 And if thou be the Emperor's friend, good sir, I do beseech
 
 266 BARABBAS 
 
 thee to mistake us not, we have been ever honoured in the 
 legion for prowess and vigilance till now, and truly I cannot 
 tell how we were all entranced away from watchfulness. 
 Nevertheless I will assert before the Tribunal, yea, and before 
 the whole Sanhedrim, that no man's force, be he Jew or 
 Roman, can stand against the powers of Heaven !" And he 
 looked round at the dazed and helpless Galbus, marking him 
 out by an impressive gesture as the living proof of the terrors 
 of the past vigil. 
 
 Melchior drew back. 
 
 " Fear not, soldier ! Thou shalt not lose place in the legion, 
 nor shalt thou lack protection from Caesar. On to the city ! 
 present this dumb centurion to Caiaphas, and speak thou 
 the truth as it is apparent unto thee, but doubt not that a lie 
 will be quickly substituted for it 1 The lie will best suit the 
 Jews, 'twill cost little trouble to keep up, being prone to 
 propagate itself in endless forms, but the Truth will need 
 fighting for and dying for through ages yet to come ! Fare- 
 well 1 In whatsoever way I can, I will commend thee to the 
 Emperor." 
 
 Again Maximus saluted profoundly, and the men resumed 
 their dusty hurried march. As they went, one said to his 
 fellow, 
 
 " Yonder stranger who doth wear our Emperor's signet is 
 not particular in choice of comrades, for with him was 
 Barabbas." 
 
 " Barabbas !" echoed the other, " He that was released 
 from punishment of death in place of the ' Nazarene 1 ?" 
 
 " Even he I 'Tis said he was a robber." 
 
 They trudged on through the thick white dust, and presently 
 the whole company arrived at the gates of the city, where they 
 were met by a rabble of the Jewish populace who hailed them 
 with shouts of derision. The rumour had already gone 
 abroad that the crucified Prophet of Nazareth had risen from 
 the dead, and though none believed in the miracle, there were 
 a few superstitious souls in the crowd who imparted to others 
 their notion that He had not really died and moreover could 
 not die. But the general impression was that the Body had 
 been stolen from the tomb in spite of all precaution, that the 
 soldiers had been plied with wine, and in all probability drugged 
 into a lethargy, and that while they slept off the effects of 
 over-much liquor, the disciples of the " Nazarene" had moved 
 away the stone from the sepulchre and carried off their dead
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 267 
 
 Master. la any case Roman vigilance had been baffled, and 
 to the Jewish mob there was something peculiarly pleasing in 
 this defeat. They yelled and hooted round the discomfited 
 " watch," pointing out the tottering Galbus with jeers as 
 " one that hath not yet recovered from his winebibbing 1" and 
 formed a disorderly cortege up to the house of Pilate. There, 
 when the great portal was unbarred to admit the soldiers, and 
 these passed in, the malcontents remained for a little time out- 
 side, shouting ironical applause for the valour of Rome, then, 
 tired of their own clamour, gradually dispersed. 
 
 Meanwhile, Barabbas once more in the shelter of the inn 
 where Melchior lodged, turned to that strange personage and 
 asked abruptly, 
 
 " How earnest thou to wear the Emperor's signet ?" 
 
 " That is my business, not thine, Barabbas !" responded Mel- 
 chior tranquilly " Learn thou the first rule of civility, which 
 is, to ask no questions on matters which do not concern thee. 
 The Emperor is my friend, and for a service I have done him 
 I hold Rome itself in fee." 
 
 Barabbas opened his eyes wide in astonishment, and would 
 certainly have pressed for further information had he not been 
 interrupted at that moment by a soft knocking at the door, 
 and the sound of a voice calling eagerly 
 
 " Open ! Open quickly ! I have news for Barabbas. It is I, 
 Mary of Magdala." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIL 
 
 IN answer to this summons they unlatched the door, and 
 confronted the Magdalen on the threshold. She was breathless 
 with running, and her eyes expressed a great and compassionate 
 anxiety. 
 
 " I promised thee, Barabbas," she began hurriedly, " I 
 promised thee that if I heard aught of Judith Iscariot I would 
 tell thee, lo now, I have found her ! She is in the wooded 
 grove of Gethsemane, alone, strangely distraught and ill, 
 dying perchance ! I pray thee tarry not, but come with me 
 straightway, thou may'st persuade her from thence. I can- 
 not. She weeps and sings, anon she clasps her hands, and
 
 268 BARABBAS 
 
 prays, then she flies from me as one in fear, 'twill need much 
 tenderness to move her, but thou as one familiar to her sight 
 may haply entice her homeward prithee come I" 
 
 " Yea, go quickly now, Barabbas," said Melchior gently 
 " In the sorrow of a broken heart, love must needs pardon sin, 
 and make an end of bitterness." 
 
 He turned away, and Barabbas, needing no second bidding, 
 hastened out of the house with the Magdalen, in a tremor of 
 excitement and apprehension. The way to Gethsemane seemed 
 interminably long, and yet they lost no time, not even in con- 
 verse, for both were full of thoughts that baffled words. At 
 last they reached the gate of the garden, and as she lifted the 
 latch, Mary held up one hand warningly. 
 
 " Listen !" she said. 
 
 Faint fragments of song came floating towards them, broken 
 scraps of melody, sweet and solemn and wild, and presently 
 Barabbas recognised the sonorous rhythm of the stanzas of 
 
 " Whither is thy beloved gone, thou fairest among women ? 
 Whither is thy beloved turned aside ? 
 Tell us, that we may seek him with thee. 
 
 My beloved is gone down into his garden, 
 To the beds of spices and to gather lilies; 
 My beloved is mine and I am his ! 
 
 Awake, north wind, and come thou south ! 
 Blow upon my garden and on the spices thereof, 
 Let my beloved come into his garden" 
 
 Here the voice broke with a sharp discordant cry 
 
 " Judas ! Judas ! Judas !" 
 
 This name three times repeated, sent shuddering echoes of 
 shrill despair through the solemn tranquillity of Gethsemane, 
 and Barabbas trembled as he heard. 
 
 " Where is she?" he demanded, in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 Mary Magdalene made no reply, but took him by the hand 
 and led him onward. 
 
 They followed a winding path, so overgrown with moss that 
 their footsteps made no sound upon it, and presently came in 
 view of a grassy knoll tufted with palms, and furthermore 
 adorned by the broken shell of a disused fountain. Here a 
 white figure sat droopingly, all alone ; surrounded by a fantastic 
 tangle of creepers and flowers that lay in straggling lengths
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 269 
 
 npon the turf, apparently just gathered and thrown idly down 
 to perish. Mary and Barabbas moved cautiously on, till they 
 were within a few steps of that solitary woman shape, upon 
 whose fiery- gold hair the sunlight shed a deeper flame. 
 
 " Pause here a while" whispered Mary then " She hath a 
 singular suddenness of violence in her, and if we come upon 
 her unpreparedly, she will take instant flight. Best let me go 
 before, and speak with her." 
 
 But some instinctive sense of being watched, already moved 
 the distraught girl. Springing to her feet, she shaded her eyes 
 with one hand and looked straight down upon them. Then 
 lifting up her voice once more in that wailing cry, " Judas !" 
 she came rushing forward. With flying hair and feverishly 
 glittering eyes she confronted them, and as her wild gaze fell 
 on Barabbas, she uttered an exclamation of joy. 
 
 " Judas !" and she ran to him, flinging her arms about him 
 in delirious ecstasy " Judas, thou art here at last ! Why 
 did'st thou not come sooner ? I have wandered all about the 
 city seeking thee, yea! I have even killed Caiaphas for thy 
 sake ! Did'st thou not know of this, and art thou not glad ? 
 Of a truth he was a traitor ; but alas, I learned his treachery 
 too late to serve thee in the saving of thy friend the ' Naza- 
 rene.' And willingly do I confess my share of blame, not 
 thou, poor Judas, wert in fault; 'twas all my doing, and Caia- 
 phas persuaded me, therefore grieve thou no more for others' 
 crimes. And now I have done all I could to make amends, 
 thou wilt forgive me ? Is it not so ? Thou wilt forgive thy 
 little sister ? Thou wilt love her still ?" 
 
 While thus she moaned and murmured, with mingled sobs 
 and smiles, pressing her soft face against his breast and lifting 
 up her beautiful dark anguished eyes entreatingly, Barabbas 
 felt as if his heart must break, tears rose in his throat and 
 choked his power of speech, he pressed her convulsively in 
 his arms but could say nothing, and she whose madness was 
 capable of endless fluctuations, from tenderness to ferocity, 
 grew irritated at his silence. Tearing herself away from him 
 she stood apart, eyeing him at first with wonder, then with 
 complete repugnance and scorn. 
 
 " Thou art not Judas after all !" she said " How darest 
 thou break in upon my solitude ? Knowest thou not that this 
 is my garden of dreams ? I dwell here always, and I will 
 have none but Judas with me. I saw him_jast night, he 
 came to me and said that all was well with him, that he would
 
 270 BARABBAS 
 
 meet me here, and for a moment I did fancy thou wert he. 
 But no, thou art some insolent intruder ! get thee hence and 
 trouble me not, I have many flowers to gather yet, wherewith 
 to strew my grave. For I am dead, and this is the borderland 
 of vision, Judas is dead also, and we both wander yet 
 apart, but we shall meet, I know not when or how, but 
 sure I am 'twill not be long !" 
 
 She paused in her incoherent speech, and Mary Magdalene 
 ventured to approach her. 
 
 " Judith ! poor Judith !" she murmured gently and took 
 her hand. Judith looked at her dubiously and somewhat 
 resentfully, then smiled, a piteous wan smile. 
 
 " Thou art very kind !" she sighed, " I do remember, 
 thou wert here before, not long since, and did'st whisper words 
 of comfort passing sweetly. Albeit I know thee not, still, 
 thou art woman, thou can'st understand my grief. I cannot 
 go from hence, for I have promised to abide here until Judas 
 comes, therefore I pray thee do not vex me by entreaty. 
 Moreover I must hide me for a while, for I have slain the 
 high-priest Caiaphas, do they know it yet in the city ? and 
 will they search for me ? I have sworn they shall not find me, 
 Judas will come at sunset and bear me hence with him, 
 'tis very lonely waiting, and if thou dost desire it thou can'st 
 stay with me a while, but send away yon stranger." 
 
 And she pointed to Barabbas, who drew back sorrowfully, 
 stricken to the heart by an anguish he could scarcely conceal. 
 But Judith did not comprehend his torture, apparently she 
 had no memory or recognition of him, her errant fancy was 
 already drifting elsewhere. 
 
 " Take me away to the trees yonder" she said to Mary 
 supplicatingly " And let us sit down and sing. Or thou shalt 
 sing and I will sleep. I am tired, the way is endless ; one 
 meets too many dreams. They rise one after the other, some 
 beautiful, some dreadful, and Judas is in them all. And there 
 is a red streak round his throat just where the cord pressed it, 
 this cord" and she touched a frayed rope hanging at her 
 waist " I cut the noose, nevertheless he still seems to suffer, 
 though he should not, and methinks at times he looks upon me 
 wrathfully. 'Tis cruel of him, he should remember the old 
 days when we were children, one should never forget the love 
 of home. And though age has crept upon me now, I once was 
 young, and such beauty was mine as is seldom seen ! ' The 
 fairest woman in Judxa? I was called, and this was true,
 
 A DREAM OF TEE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 271 
 
 Judas should think of it, and not despise me now, because, 
 through suffering, that fairness hath departed. Moreover of 
 this ' Nazarene' he served, he hath not told me aught ; save that 
 He was wise and good, and poor and all unrecognised, but 
 this is the history of all wise good men, and is not strange. 
 Some say He was a god, but there be many gods in Borne ! 
 Justitia, Pilate's wife, thinks naught of gods. And I have 
 even heard the daughter of Annas say that she did doubt and 
 hate the great Jehovah, and this, when she was wife of 
 Caiaphas, Jehovah's priest. Perchance she was unhappy, and 
 had good cause to doubt her husband's faithfulness! who 
 knows ! but of a very truth she loved not God ! Methinks 
 'tis difficult to love a Power Unseen. Such thoughts weary 
 me ; but this doth comfort me" and she drew from her bosom 
 the same kind of roughly-made cross she had before possessed, 
 formed of two twigs of olive, " Caiaphas did break one in his 
 fury, and for that, as well as other things I slew him, this 
 is another I have made, and 'tis a magic symbol ! for when I 
 raise it so !" and she lifted it above her head in a sort of 
 rapture " methinks I hear most wondrous music, and a sweet 
 voice saying ' Peace !' " 
 
 She nestled close to the Magdalen, who with pitying tears, 
 placed one arm round her and strove to lead her away. But 
 she quickly perceived that the direction taken was towards the 
 exit from the garden, and she obstinately refused to move a 
 step further on that path. 
 
 " No, no !" she said " We will go deeper in among the 
 trees. There is a place of palms yonder, and many flowers, 
 and shade and fragrance. Come ! sing me to sleep be thou 
 my friend, and stay with me till sunset, when Judas will be 
 here." 
 
 She began to gather up all her fallen garlands, and while she 
 was thus occupied, the Magdalen whispered to Barabbas 
 
 " Comfort thyself, friend, I will stay with her a little. 
 Thou can'st follow and see the place where she will choose to 
 rest then go thou quickly to her father and tell him she is 
 here. Prepare him well to use with her both force and gentle- 
 ness, be not thus sorrowful and amazed at her dislike of thee 
 she knows thee not at all, a cloud is on her brain ; have 
 patience !" 
 
 " Hath she slain Caiaphas?" muttered Barabbas unsteadily 
 u Or is the fancy born of her distraction ?" 
 
 "I know not!" answered Mary "Thou must inquire and
 
 272 BARABBAS 
 
 learn. I have heard nothing for to me the Master's rising 
 from the dead hath sufficed as news for all the world 1 Of 
 men's doings I know naught." 
 
 As she spoke thus in hurried accents, Judith caught her 
 impatiently by the arm and drew her away. 
 
 "Bid yon stranger depart" she said "I like him not! 
 He doth resemble one Barabbas ! He was my lover and I did 
 betray him, he would slay me if he knew !" 
 
 And she quickened her pace. The Magdalen accompanied 
 her, and Barabbas followed slowly at a little distance, striving 
 to conceal himself as much in the background as possible. At 
 last, after various erratic ups and downs, Judith arrived at 
 what she called "a place of palms." The feathery foliage 
 towered high up against the deep blue sky, and smaller trees 
 of thicker branch and leaf cast their green gloom on the 
 smooth turf, while numberless climbing roses and passion- 
 flowers had grown up arch-wise so as to form a complete bower 
 of shade. Here the frenzied girl seemed to grow suddenly 
 calm, she sighed profoundly, and her troubled countenance 
 cleared. She sat down under the natural canopy of flowers 
 with Mary beside her. A smile parted her lips, the old 
 sweet witching smile that on that perfect mouth had been a 
 resistless snare for the souls of men. 
 
 " Sing 1" she said" Some simple song of tenderness that 
 will banish all the spectres flitting round me ! I will not ask 
 thee who thou art, thou hast a look of love within thine 
 eyes and thou art beautiful. Yea ! thou hast long fair tresses 
 full of sunshine, but see I" and she held up a mass of her 
 own luxuriant hair which was like gold and fire commingled 
 "This is a brighter colour methinks? and 'tis even as silk 
 unto the touch. Lo, when I die thou shall sever it and make 
 a rope thereof, twine it around the throat of Judas, and 
 maybe it will heal his wound. Now sing !" 
 
 She leaned her head against Mary's breast and half closed 
 her eyes. Barabbas ventured nearer and stood in the shadow 
 of the trees, listening while the voice of the Magdalen, honey- 
 sweet yet shaken by tears sounded plaintively on the silence. 
 And the song that she sang ran thus : 
 
 The earth hath many flowers : in all the fields and bowers 
 Their radiant blossoms open 'neath the glory of the sun, 
 But their leaves are scarce unfurl'd to the summer of the world, 
 When they perish in their beauty, every one. 
 Brief is their fair delight; 'tis ended ere the night.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 273 
 
 Sad emblems are they all of the sadder lives of men ! 
 Better be a rose, the wildest one that blows, 
 And ta/e in the shelter of the King's garden ! 
 
 The lofty laurels stand, at a conqueror's right hand, 
 
 To deck the feasts of triumph and the revellings of mirth, 
 
 Lilies and bays are bound for the brows of heroes crowned, 
 
 As symbols of the evanescent earth, 
 
 But beauty, pride, and power, are the blossoms of an hour, 
 
 Bringing sorrow more than safety to the weary souls of men ; 
 
 Better be a rose, the wildest one that blows, 
 
 And safe in the shelter of the King's garden ! 
 
 The soft, quaint, almost solemn melody ceased, and Judith 
 began to rock herself to and fro restlessly, wringing her hands 
 as though she were in pain. 
 
 " The King's garden !" sho wailed " Ay ! but where is 
 the King ? He was crowned with thorns and He is dead, 
 dead ! they have crucified Him ! I, Judith Iscariot, by sub- 
 tilty, betrayed Him ! on me, on me, let the curse fall not 
 on Judas, not on Judas, merciful God ! but on me ! On me 
 let the thunders crash vengeance, let the fires of earth con- 
 sume me, mine was the sin mine, I say ! Judas was inno- 
 cent ! In the King's garden one should meet the King, but 
 He is dead ; I would that He were living, for since He died I 
 have been lost in darkness !" 
 
 And she broke into a passion of wild weeping. Mary drew 
 her compassionately into her arms and glancing backward made 
 a slight sign to Barabbas. He understood, and turning away, 
 hastened out of Gethsemane, his heart aching and his eyes full 
 of scalding blinding tears, while the strange refrain of the 
 Magdalen's song echoed itself over and over again in his 
 ears 
 
 Better be a rote, the wildest one that blows, 
 And safe in the shelter of the King's garden ! 
 
 Better, ay, far better ! Best of all things in life, death and 
 eternity it is, to be the humblest creature ever born, and " safe," 
 safe in the shelter of that mystic " garden" where Christ is 
 King!
 
 274 BARABBAS 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL 
 
 MAKING his way with all possible speed towards the house 
 of Iscariot to bear the ill news of Judith's distraught condi- 
 tion to her already broken-hearted father, Barabbas found the 
 whole city in strange confusion. The streets were blocked by 
 disorderly crowds of people wandering to and fro, many of 
 whom were weeping and wailing hysterically, while others were 
 wildly crying out that " the graves were opened" and that the 
 world was coming to an end. Elbowing a difficult passage 
 through the throng, Barabbas inquired the cause of the seem- 
 ing tumult, and learned that the rumour of the " Nazarene's" 
 miraculous resurrection had excited what some practical per- 
 sons called " a fever of imagination" among the populace, and 
 that numbers of men and women had been suddenly seized by 
 frenzy and had run out of their houses in frantic terror, shriek- 
 ing aloud that they had " seen the dead !" Long-perished 
 friends, and loved ones who had slept entombed for years, now 
 appeared again among the living, so these living swore ; spirit- 
 hands touched them, spirit-voices called them, all the air was 
 full of mystic sound. Possessed by superstitious fear, they 
 could not be persuaded to return to their usual daily occupa- 
 tions, and were only pacified by crowding together in the open 
 thoroughfares, and leaguing themselves as it were, in a band of 
 mutual support and protection against the overwhelming Super- 
 natural that on that wondrous morning seemed to invest the 
 land. Iscariot was not in the city, so Barabbas learned, his 
 unhappy son Judas had been buried in haste and privacy early 
 in the morning, and he himself, after the dreary obsequies were 
 over, had taken horse and ridden out towards Bethany in re- 
 newed search for his lost daughter. Nevertheless, in spite of 
 this information, Barabbas pressed on in the vague hope of 
 meeting him, till finally he could go no further, being com- 
 pletely hemmed in by an excited mob that was pouring itself 
 towards the house of Caiaphas. In the midst of the howling, 
 hooting, unreasoning rabble were the Roman soldiers who had 
 been set to guard the sacred sepulchre ; they had just under- 
 gone examination by Pontius Pilate, and by him were now sent 
 on to tell the story of their night's adventure to the high-
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 275 
 
 priest. They could scarcely keep the order of their march, so 
 roughly were they hustled by the irritated and impatient crowd, 
 and they had much ado to refrain from responding wrathfully 
 to the repeated jeers of impudent half-grown lads, and beggars 
 of both sexes who helped to swell the riotous cortege, shouting 
 insults all the way. 
 
 " Lo, what drunken varlets are these men of Rome ! They 
 could not guard even a dead Jew !" 
 
 "Where is the Prophet of Nazareth?" 
 
 " Who broke the seals of Sanhedrim ?" 
 
 " What have ye done with the King of the Jews ? Give 
 Him back to us and we will crucify Him a second time more 
 surely !" 
 
 Meanwhile as the noisy concourse came roaring and jostling 
 onward, within the high-priest's palace itself there was a great 
 hush and shadow. All the servants and officers of the house- 
 hold knew that Caiaphas had been dangerously wounded on the 
 previous night by some secret assassin, who had stabbed him 
 and left him for dead. He had been found lying senseless and 
 bleeding on the piece of grass immediately below his private 
 balcony, and the attempted murder was, without any hesitation, 
 judged to be the act of one of the disciples of the '' Nazarene" 
 who had, in all likelihood, considered it a rightful means of 
 avenging his dead Master. A surgeon had been hastily sum- 
 moned, who gave it as his opinion that the injury inflicted 
 would not necessarily prove fatal, but that to ensure recovery 
 the patient must have the greatest care and the utmost quiet. 
 Accordingly, the gates of the palace were closed against all 
 comers ; the servants went about on tip-toe, Rachel, " the pale 
 daughter of Annas" as Judith had been wont to call her, sat 
 somewhat apart from the couch of her priestly spouse, occa- 
 sionally ministering to his wants with that dutiful yet frigid 
 exactitude which might distinguish a paid nurse rather than a 
 wife, the curtains at the casement of the sick man's chamber 
 were closely drawn to exclude the dazzling sunlight, and every 
 possible precaution had been taken to ensure absolute tran- 
 quillity. But all this care was of little avail, since Caiaphas 
 himself was the despair of his physician. He groaned and 
 swore, tossing and tumbling among his pillows in a restless 
 fury at his own enforced inactivity, and he could scarcely re- 
 spond to the soothing and bland inquiries of Annas, his col- 
 league and father-in-law, with any show of patience or civility. 
 
 " Truly thou dost chafe thy spirit needlessly, Caiaphas"
 
 278 BARABBAS 
 
 observed that sleek personage sedately " Seeing that I am here 
 to act for thee and carry out thy duties of the Temple minis- 
 tration. Moreover thou art singularly unwise and obstinate in 
 withholding from us all description of thy would-be murderer. 
 He must be tracked and punished as thou knowest, this 
 weapon that was found beside thee, and with which thou wert 
 well-nigh slain, will aid us in discovery." 
 
 Caiaphns flung aside his coverings and made an attempt to 
 sit up. The attendant physician remonstrated, but he paid no 
 heed. 
 
 " What weapon dost thou speak of ?" he muttered hoarsely 
 " Give it to me ! Let me look upon it 1" 
 
 Annas, alarmed at the fierce expression of his face, at once 
 gave it to him. He clutched it, then glared angrily round 
 the room. 
 
 " Leave me, all of ye !" he said " All, save my wife. I 
 would speak with her alone." 
 
 His irritability was such that they dared not provoke him 
 further by contradiction, his command was therefore obeyed. 
 He waited in silence till the door closed behind the retiring fig- 
 ures of Annas, the physician, and two servants who had been 
 in waiting, then he sank back on his pillows exhausted, still 
 holding fast the jewelled dagger with which Judith Iscariot 
 had in her frenzy so nearly made an end of his life. 
 
 " Rachel, come to me !" he called faintly yet imperatively. 
 
 His wife approached him. She was a slight dark pensive- 
 looking woman with pale composed features and cold calm 
 eyes. 
 
 " Thou hast seen this toy before," he said, showing her the 
 dagger, " Thou knowest it ?" 
 
 She glanced at it indifferently. 
 
 " Full well !" she answered " 'Tis Judith's jewelled play- 
 thing a gift to her from the dead Gabrias 1" 
 
 Caiaphas turned himself restlessly. 
 
 " Ay I 'tis Judith's. The girl is frenzied for her brother's 
 death, she came to me last night, she knew not what she 
 said or did. 'Twas she who stabbed me, but none must know 
 of it. Take thou the weapon therefore, and cast it in the well 
 below the garden, thou wilt do this and say nothing, pas- 
 sionless as thou art I feel that I can trust thee !" 
 
 She took the dagger, and a curious smile flitted across her 
 features. 
 
 " Alas, poor Judith !" she said.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 277 
 
 Caiaphas gave her a quick surprised look. 
 
 " Thou dost pity her?" 
 
 " With all my soul !" 
 
 A feverish rush of blood crimsoned the high-priest's features. 
 
 " I loved her !" he cried hoarsely, in a sudden reckless access 
 **f pain and passion " Hearest thou, Rachel ! I loved her !" 
 
 Rachel's cold eyes rested scornfully upon him. 
 
 " I hear, Caiaphas ! And I know !" 
 
 " Learn then yet another thing !" he continued wildly " For 
 her sake I have been faithless unto thee !" 
 
 " That also do I know 1" responded Rachel with chill equa- 
 nimity. 
 
 "And sayest thou nothing? carest thou nothing?" he 
 demanded, amazed and exasperated. 
 
 Over the face of the pale daughter of Annas came the warm 
 flush of a righteous disdain. 
 
 " I say nothing because I feel nothing, Caiaphas !" she re- 
 plied " To know thee as I have known thee, ever since the 
 day when my father Annas gave my life into thy cruel keeping, 
 would make the softest woman's heart as hard as steel or ada- 
 mant. I care nothing, for who could care for the loss or the 
 retaining of a love so valueless as thine ! Speak we no more 
 of this, for I have schooled myself to silence ; I am thy wife, 
 only thy wife, who according to thy measure is little more 
 than dog or slave ! And I will do thy bidding as dog and 
 slave till death releases me, for out of mine own self-respect 
 and pride I will not let thee boast that I have failed in aught. 
 And of thy sensual passions I heed nothing, thou art free to 
 follow them, seeing thou dost walk in the holy ways of Abra- 
 ham, to whom most surely all women born were of less account 
 than the cattle of the field ! yet he was the favourite of the 
 self-same God thou servest, and so, perchance art thou ! But 
 for me, henceforth, there shall be other gods than one who doth 
 reward with favour the lies and infidelities of man !" 
 
 Such passion vibrated in her voice, such wrath flashed within 
 her eyes that for the moment her husband was stupefied with 
 astonishment ; but as she turned to leave the room, he called 
 her back angrily. 
 
 " Rachel !" 
 
 " "What now ?" 
 
 " How darest thou" ... he panted huskily " How darest 
 thou assault me with thy shrewish tongue thus furiously" 
 
 She smiled coldly. 
 
 24
 
 278 BARABBAS 
 
 " I dare all things, being wronged !" she answered " And 
 for Judith Iscariot I have naught but love ! love and grati- 
 tude that she did seek to rid the world of thee I 'Twas bravely 
 done ! I would she had succeeded !" 
 
 And with haughty step and slow she passed out of the apart- 
 ment, just as Annas, white and trembling with alarm entered 
 it again, accompanied by the physician. 
 
 " Caiaphas ! . . . Oaiaphas !" . . . he stammered. 
 
 " Sir, be calm !" interposed the physician anxiously, hasten- 
 ing to the bedside of his patient, " I sought to keep intruders 
 from thee, but now this business seemeth strange and ur- 
 gent" 
 
 He broke off, and Caiaphas, still agitated by the unexpected 
 conduct of his wife towards him, stared wonderingly from one 
 to the other. 
 
 " What ails ye both ?" he asked feebly " How ! dost thou 
 tremble, Annas ? thou who art moved by nothing save a lack 
 of delicate food? Speak, man ! What news is on thy lips?" 
 
 " Pilate hath sent his men to thee" faltered Annas, " The 
 watch hath been broken, the sepulchre is empty" 
 
 With a frightful cry Caiaphas almost leaped from his 
 bed. 
 
 " Cowards ! Thieves ! Let them not dare to say the Man 
 of Nazareth hath risen from the dead, for if His body be no 
 longer in the tomb, it hath been stolen ! Where are these lag- 
 gards ? these worthless Romans ? Pilate hath sent them ? 
 then bid them enter I" 
 
 Annas glanced at the physician who shrugged his shoulders 
 and threw up his hands, implying by these gestures his resigna- 
 tion of all responsibility in a matter so entirely beyond his 
 control. 
 
 "Bid them enter !" shouted Caiaphaa again, his face con- 
 vulsed with impatience and fury. And in another moment, 
 Maximus, with the speechless Galbus and the rest of his men ; 
 keeping behind him, appeared. 
 
 " Sir," said he, looking full at the high-priest, who glared at 
 him in return with an expression of implacable and vengeful 
 ferocity " Methinks I am come at an ill time, seeing thou art 
 wounded and suffering ; nevertheless I am bound to fulfil the 
 received command of the governor. Pilate hath sent me hither 
 to tell thee that our watch hath been in vain, the Heavens 
 have interposed, and a miracle hath been enacted ; the ' Naza- 
 rene' hath risen !"
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 279 
 
 " Liar !" and Caiaphas well-nigh foaming at the mouth, 
 clutched at the purple coverings of his couch and leaned for- 
 ward as though he were about to hurl some deadly weapon at 
 the speaker " Liar ! Who art thou, dastard Roman, that 
 darest presume upon my patience by the bringing of a false 
 report ? Thou wert not placed in charge ! Galbus did head 
 thy band of scoundrels, let him speak !" 
 
 Maximus, pale with rage at the insult thus offered to him- 
 self and his comrades had much ado to control his rising 
 temper. 
 
 "Sir priest," he said, breathless with suppressed anger 
 " Thou goest too far in the manner of thy speech, seeing 
 Judaea is the slave of Rome, and thou thyself a payer of 
 tribute unto Caesar. I have not brought thee any false report, 
 I scorn to lie, and I am here to tell the truth of what I 
 saw. That these men about me slept I deny not, but I was 
 wakeful, and with mine own eyes I did behold, at the first 
 quarter after midnight, the heavens opened and two god-like 
 Shapes descending towards the tomb. Galbus looked on the 
 marvellous sight with me, and with the lightning of the 
 glory we were smitten to the ground even as dead men. At 
 morning when we woke we found the great stone rolled away 
 from the sepulchre, and the tomb itself empty of all save the 
 linen cerements wherein the body of the ' Nazarene' was swathed. 
 And as for Galbus, I would that any bidding of thine or mine 
 could make him speak, for since the fearful fires did fall upon 
 us both at midnight, he hath been smitten feeble as thou seest 
 him now, and dumb." 
 
 While Maximus thus spoke the countenance of Caiaphas 
 had grown livid and hideous with the restrained passion and 
 bitter malice of his soul. 
 
 " Would I had had my way !" he muttered thickly between 
 the slow gasps of his labouring breath " I would have hewn 
 the body of the crucified blasphemer asunder limb from limb, 
 and flung each portion to the dogs that roam the city !" He 
 paused, choking back the terrible oath that rose to his lips, and 
 then went on slowly, addressing himself again to Maximus 
 " So ! this is the story of the thieves' trick played upon ye 
 by the Galilean rogues who, like their Mastei, practise devils' 
 magic ! Think not I am deceived ; no dead man rises from 
 the grave, and I will sift this matter! Galbus hath lost the 
 power of speech thou sayest, nevertheless he is not deaf 
 methinks, he is capable of signs. Let him stand forth and
 
 280 BARABBAS 
 
 face me ! I will question him, and by the God of Israel fce 
 shall answer me if only in dumb show 1" 
 
 His irate order was obeyed, the two soldiers who supported 
 the tottering, half-paralysed Galbus, led him forward. Caia- 
 phas, leaning out of bed, grasped him by the arm roughly. 
 
 " Galbus 1" 
 
 Slowly the wandering lack-lustre eyes of the centurion lifted 
 themselves and rested vaguely on the high-priest's pale and 
 resentful visage. At first there was no expression whatever in 
 their fixed regard but gradually the light of returning intelli- 
 gence and memory brightened and dilated them, and a sudden 
 change began to manifest itself in the whole demeanour of the 
 stricken man. Drawing a deep breath he straightened his 
 drooping figure, and shook himself free of his two supporters 
 who stared upon him in amazement, with one hand he felt 
 for his sword, and as he touched the familiar hilt, he smiled, 
 and raised his head with his former proud and martial bearing. 
 Caiaphas watched him in astonishment and suspicion the 
 man's former crushed and helpless demeanour seemed now an 
 elaborate pretence, his very dumbness might be assumed ! 
 and believing this to be the case, a black frown wrinkled the 
 high-priest's brows as he fiercely demanded 
 
 " How now, Galbus 1 What report hast thou to offer of thy 
 duty ? what knowest thou of last night's vigil ? If thou art 
 dumb, make signs ; if thou hast any utterance, speak ! Who 
 made thy watch of no avail, and turned thy Roman valour 
 into trembling?" 
 
 With sudden and startling vehemence the unexpected answer 
 came: 
 
 '{Jesus of Nazareth, Son of the living Godj) 
 
 It was Galbus who spoke, the spell of silence was all at 
 once lifted from him, and his voice, resonant, clear and con- 
 vincing, rang like a trumpet-note through the room. Wonder 
 and dismay fell upon all who heard him, but he, expanding 
 and glorying~as it were in the utterance of a truth, exclaimed 
 again loudly and fearlessly 
 
 " Jesus of Nazareth, Son of the living God !" 
 
 Maddened with rage, Caiaphas made a frantic attempt to 
 strike him on the mouth, but was prevented by the politic 
 Annas. 
 
 "Away with him, away with him !" he cried furiously, im- 
 potently beating the air with his clenched fists " Bind him, 
 gag him I slay him 1 X will be answerable for his death to
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 281 
 
 Caesar ! Gag him, I say ! silence him in earnest ! he is a 
 liar, a liar ! he shall be branded as such to his nation ! bear 
 him hence quickly, let him not shout his blasphemies through 
 the town ! Gag him ! ye villains, ye will not obey me 1 ye 
 will let the people think the crucified malefactor a god divine, 
 curse him, I say ! curse ye all for a band of liars, ye foul 
 brutes, ye cowards of Home, ye base pauderers to the scum 
 of Galilee" 
 
 His voice broke in a sharp cry, his wound began to bleed 
 afresh and the crimson stain welled rapidly through the linen 
 wrappings ; the physician seriously alarmed, declared to Annas 
 that he could not be answerable for his patient's life if this 
 scene were allowed to continue. Annas therefore took it upon 
 himself to put an end to the inquiry. 
 
 " Get ye all hence !" he said, addressing himself to Maxlmus 
 angrily " And take this raving Galbus out of hearing I His 
 dumbness was better than his speech. But think not we shall 
 let this matter rest thus, what reasoning man would of sane 
 will accept a fool's report such as thou bringest I We are not 
 to be dupad either by Galileans or Romans !" 
 
 Maxituus gave him no reply save a look of supreme scorn, 
 Galbus meanwhile had been coldly watching the pallid and 
 convulsed face of Caiaphas. 
 
 " Lo, how the devils in this Jewish priest do torture him !" 
 he said meditatively " Hell itself cries out upon Christ's mur- 
 derer!" 
 
 " Silence, thou knave !" cried Annas. 
 
 " Silence thyself, thou Jew !" retorted Galbus, " thou can'st 
 not so command a soldier of Tiberius." 
 
 Annas grew livid with rage. The physician who was en- 
 gaged in stanching the blood that flowed from Caiaphas's 
 wound, again interposed, entreating that the room might be 
 cleared and his patient left tranquil. Annas therefore, with 
 difficulty restraining the torrent of invective that rose to his 
 lips, assumed an air of dignified rebuke. 
 
 " Centurion, 'tis beneath me and my sacred calling to argue 
 with the base and the unworthy. Hence ! with thy men, 
 through Pilate we shall yet communicate with thee, and report 
 thy conduct to the Emperor. Doubt not that justice will be 
 done ! both unto thee and unto us, and whosoever broke the 
 seals of the Sanhedrim aflixed upon the tomb ye all were 
 set to guard, shall be tracked and punished with the extremest 
 penalty of the law."
 
 282 BARABBAS 
 
 Galbus smiled grimly. 
 
 " Track ye the angels then, and find the path to Heaven T 
 he said " To false priests the task will not be easy !" 
 
 And turning abruptly on his heel he placed himself at the 
 head of his company as if he had never left command of it. 
 In the momentary pause before the little troop departed, one 
 soldier hung back and made a secret sign to Annas. 
 
 " What would'st thou ?" said Annas impatiently " Seest 
 thou not the high-priest almost swoons? he can stand no 
 more of this rude clamour." 
 
 " I would but say one thing to him" said the man, who 
 was a dark browed, evil-looking fellow from Sicily " Haply it 
 might give him a clue." 
 
 Annas looked at him scrutinisingly, then quickly approached 
 Caiaphas who had sunk back on his pillows in a sort of lethargy. 
 
 " This soldier hath a private word for thee, my sou," he 
 said. 
 
 Caiaphas opened his languid bloodshot eyes. 
 
 " Vex me 110 more ;" he muttered feebly " I suffer I let 
 me rest !" 
 
 "Sir" said the soldier quickly "'tis but a hint to thee 
 which may serve to some good purpose. 'Tis true we slept 
 upon our watch last night, lulled into slumber by a wondrous 
 singing as of nightingales, and of ourselves we saw no marvels, 
 despite what Maximus hath told thee. But on this morning as 
 we came away from the sepulchre, a stranger met us on the 
 road who did inquire most particularly as to the nature of our 
 vigil. He had a foreign aspect, and to our wonder, wore the 
 Emperor's signet. And with him was Barabbas." 
 
 Caiaphas started, and heedless of his wound, sat up. 
 
 " Barabbas ?" 
 
 " Yea, sir. Barabbas. He that was a robber." 
 
 A sudden gleam of malicious joy sparkled in the high- 
 priest's eyes. 
 
 " Soldier, I thank thee ! Thou hast done well in telling me 
 of this. Come back hither later on, and thou shalt have gold 
 from the treasury as thy reward. And mark me, friend ! to 
 all thy comrades who did sleep, seeing no miracle, but only 
 seeing Barabbas on the road next morning, gold shall be meted 
 out full lavishly, provided they will tell this thing throughout 
 the town. Barabbas did defend the ' Nazarene,' and therefore 
 may be ranked among His followers and disciples. Thou sayest 
 truly, Barabbas was a robber /"
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 283 
 
 And when the soldier had rejoined his companions, and the 
 sound of the retreating; footsteps of all the men had died away 
 in the outer corridor, Caiaphas lay back again upon his couch 
 with a sigh of deep relief and contentment. Smiling an evil 
 smile, he murmured to himself softly 
 
 " Barabbas ? Barabbas was a robber" 
 
 And in an hour's time, despite his recent rage and excite- 
 ment, he slept tranquilly, while on his thin closely-compressed 
 lips, even in deep slumber, still lingered the shadow of that 
 wicked smile. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 EMERGING at last with difficulty from the turbulent throng 
 that had accompanied the Roman soldiers to the high -priest's 
 palace and that now waited in a dense mass outside the gates 
 for their return, Barabbas managed finally to reach Iscariot'a 
 dwelling. The house was shut up and in mourning ; and none 
 of the servants could truly tell where their master had gone 
 after his son's melancholy funeral. Uncertain what to do, and 
 shrinking from the idea of coufiding to paid menials the news 
 that their mistress was wandering about distraught, with no 
 other companion or friend than the evilly-reputed Magdalen, 
 Barabbas could see no other course open to him than to return 
 at once to Gethsemane and consult with Mary as to what next 
 
 father. He therefore made the best of his way back to the 
 garden by certain by-streets where the crowd had not pene- 
 trated, and as he came out upon the open road leading to the 
 Mount of Olives, within sight of the trees of Gethsemane, he 
 perceived a group of persons standing together in earnest con- 
 versation. Drawing nearer he recognised one of them as Simon 
 Peter; the others he did not know, but judged from their ap- 
 pearance and dress that they were Galileans, and followers of 
 Him that was called the " Nazarene." He would have passed 
 them by, in his haste to reach his destination, but that Peter 
 Baw him and called to him. He approached reluctantly. 
 
 " This is Barabbas!" said Peter slowly " He who was re- 
 leased unto the Jews instead of the Lord. He hath repented 
 of his crimes ; shall we not persuade him to go with us ?"
 
 284 BARABBAS 
 
 The others looked upon him curiously, one, a fair tall man 
 with a noble head and brilliant yet dreamy eyes, addressed him 
 gently 
 
 " Friend, thou art welcome ! Knowest thou that He whom 
 the wicked crucified, hath risen gloriously from the dead ? 
 Wherefore, we, His disciples, grieve no more, seeing that now 
 we have such hope as f'aileth not I We are journeying from 
 hence to Bethany and on towards Galilee, even as He, our 
 Master bids us, He hath promised to meet us on the way." 
 
 Barabbas gazed steadily at the speaker. 
 
 " Believest thou, with all thy soul, that He hath risen from 
 the dead?" 
 
 " Yea, truly !" 
 
 " Prithee, who art thou ?" 
 
 " My name is John." 
 
 A pause ensued. Barabbas stood silent, his brows knitted, 
 his eyes burning sombrely like clouded fire beneath their thick 
 black lashes. 
 
 "Wilt thou go with us?" demanded Peter, " Pe'rchance 
 thou also, on the way, wilt meet and see the risen Lord !" 
 
 " Nay, I have seen Him 1" answered Barabbas, and as he 
 said the words, the listening disciples started and exchanged 
 amazed glances one with the other " And from your words I 
 gather that ye have not ! Truly He lives ! that I will swear ! 
 Ye have received this news from Mary Magdalene, and ye are 
 ready to accept the woman's version as a miracle, but I, I 
 was near her when He did converse with her, I watched His 
 face, I heard His voice, I saw Him glide, or melt away 1 
 Whither He went I know not, for though I searched the tomb 
 He was not there." 
 
 " We also searched the tomb" began Peter. 
 
 " What 1 Then ye doubted of His rising from the dead ? 
 even ye ?" And Barabbas smiled darkly. " Will ye know 
 Him, think ye, if ye meet Him by the way ?" 
 
 " Know Him ?" cried Peter " Ay ! among a thousand 
 thousand !" 
 
 Barabbas looked straight at him, with a melancholy scorn in 
 his black eyes. 
 
 " Take heed, Peter ! Swear nothing. Thou did'st deny Him 
 thrice !" 
 
 He waited a moment; then went on in slow deliberate 
 accents. 
 
 " Righteous sirs, I am beholden to ye all for the offer of
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 285 
 
 your comradeship ; nevertheless I may not join your company. 
 Methinks my destiny is ordered elsewhere. I am a man of 
 many sins, and cankered o'er with doubts and fears that would 
 not well consort with your fidelity. Nevertheless I deem the 
 Truth can never hurt a man, being most surely part of God if 
 God there be, therefore the truth of my refusal ye shall have 
 from me. Lo then, when your Master was betrayed, ye did 
 most pitilessly all forsake Him, and for that one abhorrent deed, 
 my soul rebels against ye ! Sooner would I companion Judas 
 in his self-sought grave than follow in your track ! I could not 
 break my bread in peace with one deserter of the sinless ' Naza- 
 rene' !" 
 
 He paused, agitated by strange passion, and they were all 
 silent, amazed and inwardly stung at the pitiless veracity and 
 daring of his speech. 
 
 " I am Barabbas," he continued, " And my name may serve, 
 an' ye choose it, for all that is worst in man. I have been both 
 thief and murderer, I am a vagabond of no value in the 
 world, and I speak without learning, but I strive not to hide 
 my crimes, I make no pretence of being what I am not. Yo 
 perchance are righteous, arid think ye may exalt mankind, I 
 am a sinner, and know that men can seldom be exalted. I 
 make no secret of my disbelief, and I say unto you all plainly, 
 that to my thought the Man of Nazareth hath never died, in- 
 asmuch as since that so-called death I have myself this very 
 morn, beheld Him living. Wonderful in truth was His aspect, 
 I do confess it ! marvellous beauty and great light attended 
 Him, but even thus He always looked, ay, even in the Hall 
 of Pilate when first I saw His face. That He swooned upon 
 the Cross is possible, that He recovered in the tomb is also 
 possible ; yea, I would even credit that with the force pent up 
 in His most noble and heroic frame, He could Himself roll 
 back the sealed stone from the sepulchre; but of 'miracles' 
 and things impossible I needs must doubt till they are proved. 
 And if ye would confess it, ye have your doubts also even as 
 mine. Nevertheless had I served the ' Nazarene' and dwelt 
 with him as ye have done, as Man and Friend and Teacher 
 merely, I never would have left Him to His enemies, or denied 
 Him, as this Peter, whom despite his late repentance, I 
 despise !" 
 
 He spoke with force and eloquence, and Peter shuddered 
 and paled at his rebuke. 
 
 "Thou strange ruffian !" he said tremulously " Can'st
 
 286 BARABBAS 
 
 thou not understand the terrors and the hesitations of a 
 man" 
 
 " I can understand all things," interrupted Barabbas fiercely, 
 " save cowardice ! Lo, if this Master whom ye boast of is a 
 god and hath risen truly from the dead, let Him but come 
 and speak to me to me, the wretched, sinful, doubting, fear- 
 ing Barabbas, let me know Him as He is, and what matter 
 even if I die of the terror and the splendour of His presence I 
 Doubt would shake my soul no more, I would endure eter- 
 nities of pain to prove His godhead ! Ye have known Him, 
 so ye say, and yet ye doubted and deserted Him ! lo, ye 
 yourselves have made it seem that ye mistrusted Him, for if 
 ye did believe that He were God, why did ye all forsake 
 Him?" 
 
 Great tears gathered in the eyes of the disciple called John. 
 
 " Prithee, say no more, Barabbas !" he murmured " We 
 know our faults ; we are but men." 
 
 " True !" said Barabbas mournfully " We are but men ! 
 We should be gods to serve a God ; and some there be who 
 swear we can become as gods, knowing both good and evil if 
 so we will it. But methinks we only choose to master half 
 the lesson JEvil ; of Good there is little knowledge and less 
 liking. I pray ye all to pardon me the roughness of my speech, 
 I am a sad, embittered, broken-hearted man, and all life looks 
 upon me frowningly. And though I may not go with ye 
 I say ' god-speed !' and if ye meet your Lord, may your eyes 
 have love enough to know Him when ye see Him ! So 
 farewell I" 
 
 " Stay !" cried Peter " All thy reproaches shall not go un- 
 answered. Thou knowest on whom should fall the rightful 
 blame, though these my companions here are yet in ignorance. 
 I told thee all, thou and the stranger whom thou had'st with 
 thee, wherefore carry thy rebuke where most it is deserved, 
 to that arch-traitress whom thy soul doth cherish with a secret 
 passion, uncontrolled, despite her infamy. Ah, who will ever 
 truly tell the story of the Lord's betrayal ! None ! for a 
 woman-wanton is the dearest joy of man, and the very laws he 
 makes protect her foulness and defend his lust !" 
 
 " Coward art thou still, Peter 1" retorted Barabbas hotly 
 " Would'st thou shelter thine own weakness behind that^of 
 woman ? 'tis an unmanly deed ! Does it make tliy sin or the 
 sin of Judas less that ye were so ea sily tempted by woman's 
 voice and persuaded by woman's eyes ? Nay ! it doth prove
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 287 
 
 your fickleness the more, go to ! bear thy part in crime with- 
 out mean subterfuge j 'tis nobler to confess a sin than cover 
 it" Here he broke off abruptly, startled by a sudden move- 
 ment among the disciples who were all with one accord looking 
 amazedly down the road in the direction of Gethsemane. He 
 followed their wondering glances, and saw to his utter con- 
 sternation the white-robed form of a woman flying forth like a 
 phantom from under the sheltering shadows of the olive-trees. 
 The fiery gold of her streaming hair flashing in the sun iden- 
 tified her at once to his grieved sight, it was the frenzied 
 Judith, and behind her ran the Magdalen, making signals of 
 anxiety and distress. Swaying to and 1'ro, sometimes stumbling, 
 anon rushing impetuously as though borne by a swift wind, 
 the distracted girl fled along like some furiously hunted animal, 
 till her course was interrupted by the presence of the disciples, 
 and Barabbas, with whom she came suddenly face to face. 
 He, going close up to her, tried to take her gently by the 
 hands, but she flung him off with a violent gesture and stood 
 still, panting for breath and trembling. The very fury of 
 mania possessed her ; her face was livid and convulsed, her lips 
 were blue and drawn in against her teeth in a thin unnatural 
 line, and in startling contrast to the pallor of her features, her 
 great dark eyes blazed with a feverish thirsty glare as of some 
 inward longing unappeased. 
 
 " Where is the King ?" she cried shrilly, fixing a wild look 
 on Peter " I have been in His garden all among the flowers 
 and the palms, but He is not there 1 He has come out of 
 the grave, they say, devils and angels alike whisper it, never- 
 theless though I seek Him I cannot find Him. But surely 
 He must be found, I have need of Him speedily, for I must 
 ask Him to pardon Judas, Judas frowns at me and will not 
 be consoled 1" 
 
 i Here, interrupting herself, she flung her long hair backward 
 over her shoulders, and smiling faintly, looked from one to 
 the other of the disciples in a sort of vague anticipation and 
 inquiry. Peter's stern eyes rested upon her austerely and 
 without compassion, she shrank a little away from him, and 
 again her glances wandered wildly, till a sudden magnetism 
 appeared to attract them fixedly to the calm fair face of John. 
 With a sharp cry she threw herself on her knees before him, 
 lifting her clasped hands and still smiling piteously. 
 
 " Good sir, be gentle with me ! I am full of sin, and I 
 have never been merciful to any man, yet for my brother's
 
 288 B ARABS AS 
 
 sake I must find the King ! I know He cannot have gone so 
 very far away, for last night I beheld Him in a vision. He 
 slept, all white and cold, upon a bed of stone ; the blood-stained 
 thorns were in His golden hair, the grave-clothes were His 
 robes of state, but even as He lay thus, a great world came 
 to pay Him homage. A strange world a vast world the 
 world of the Dead 1 they gathered round His couch and 
 smiled upon Him, their shadowy forms grew warm and 
 colourful with life, and as they came they chanted all together 
 Thus is Death slain that we may livej/ And, hearken, sir, 
 hearken ! Judas was there, Judas, with gentle eyes and 
 smiling lips, but ah ! he never looked on me ! he never 
 smiled at me ! but I was glad, because the cruel mark had 
 gone from round his throat, and he seemed happy, though I, 
 his sister, stood apart, alone ! And presently the white King 
 rose ! 'twas marvellous ! His thorny crown was changed to 
 stars ! His grave-clothes glittered into light and fire ! and 
 like the morning Sun itself He shone upon the world.] And 
 all the buried men and women lived again, ^yea, all the earth 
 was full of life and joy, but there was one strange terror in 
 the glory, for I heard a voice proclaim with thunder ' From 
 henceforth every soul created is immortal ; Life rules the 
 universe for ever, and only thou, Judith Iscariot, art dead !' " 
 
 She gave vent to a shuddering moan, and writhing herself to 
 and fro, clung to the mantle of John as though for protection. 
 He did not repulse or try to raise her, but stood silently, gazing 
 down upon her crouching figure in solemn compassion. Mary 
 Magdalene had also approached, and now bent above the un- 
 fortunate girl with whispered words of more than a sister's 
 tenderness, but Judith seemed unconscious of her presence, 
 and still lifted her appealing face to John. 
 
 " Think of it, gentle sir !" she murmured sobbingly " Is it 
 not hard, very hard, that I, only I, out of all Creation, should 
 thus be dead ? In all the joy and moving of the world, that 
 my heart should be frozen thus and still ? that I should feel 
 no love, no hope, no memory ? Yet it is true ! I know the 
 curse has fallen upon me, for I am stricken dull and foolish, 
 I am even as a stone upon the road for every foot to spurn at. 
 Beauty I had, but 'twas of no avail to me ; love I had, but 
 love was powerless to defend me ; and lo, while all the universe 
 rejoices in its life eternal, I, Judith, must remain the one dead 
 soul accursed, unless unless, so the whisperers in the air tell 
 me, I may haply find the King. For though He looked in
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 289 
 
 anger on me once, 'tis said He hath great tenderness, and 
 patience more than all men, He will perchance forgive. He 
 is not in His garden, I have sought Him everywhere, and 
 Judas has not come. Help me, friend, I do beseech thee 1 
 take me to the presence of the King, for Judas is angered 
 with me, Judas must be consoled !" 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 SHE knelt, her wide-open wild eyes upturned ; and as she 
 finished her incoherent appeal, she lifted the roughly twisted 
 cross she had made, and held it close up before the wondering 
 gaze of the " beloved" disciple. 
 
 " Will this not move thee?" she asked, plaintively. 
 
 John started as from a dream. 
 
 " Is not this the sister of dead Judas ?" he said softly and 
 in amazement " What doeth she with such a symbol?" 
 
 "Alas, who knows ! and who can follow the wanderings of 
 her distempered fancy !" answered Barabbas struggling with 
 the tears that rose in his throat " Her brother's death hath 
 maddened her thus. Prithee have patience ! I would we 
 could persuade her to her father's house !" And he looked 
 distressfully at the Magdalen who shook her head sorrow- 
 fully. 
 
 " I fear me 'twill be difficult," she said "She hath the 
 strangest fits of passion. She was quite happy in the garden 
 till a little while agone, then suddenly convulsed, she rose and 
 shrieked aloud, and wringing her hands fled swiftly from me. 
 I followed fast, and she ran forth into the highroad thus 
 demented, nor would she let me touch her." 
 
 They spoke in low tones, and Judith heeded nothing that 
 was said. She remained on her knees, looking at John. 
 
 " Where is the King ?" she reiterated. 
 
 Before John could reply, Peter suddenly advanced. 
 
 "If thou dost speak of Him whom thou did'st aid the 
 priests to crucify" he said sternly "Thou dost ask news 
 of Him in vain. He doth not answer to the call of the wicked, 
 and for the treacherous He hath no sympathy. Shall a mur- 
 derer ask for his victim ? shall he that hath wilfully wrested 
 x t 25
 
 290 BARABBAS 
 
 life from the innocent expect that life to live again? Cry t 
 Judith, to the heavens, for the King of Heaven is there, 
 but such as thou art wilt find him on this earth no 
 more !" 
 
 "How can'st thou tell, Peter?" interposed John quickly 
 " Thou art too harsh, thou should'st not too presumptuously 
 declare the ways of the Divine. Hast thou no pity ? Our 
 Master had, when we were with Him, and of a truth methinks 
 He would have comforted this broken and afflicted soul 1" 
 
 u Thy Master had strange servants !" said Barabbas hotly 
 " And this Peter doth commiserate his own sins only!" 
 
 " Hush, oh hush !" prayed the Magdalen fervently 
 " Dispute not now among yourselves ! see ye not a change 
 in her ? Judith ! Judith !" 
 
 Judith had risen slowly to her feet, and was now standing 
 upright, though feebly, the hot sunshine fell full on the 
 uncovered splendour of her hair and made it appear to burn 
 like flame, but her face was wan and sad as the face of the 
 dying. She had turned her eyes upon Peter, though with an 
 almost unseeing look. 
 
 " Thou hast a harsh note in thy voice" she said faintly 
 "Methinks thou did'st never love a woman, not even the 
 mother that bore thee. Who art thou ? I know thee not, 
 but sure am I thou wilt do cruel things in the world. With 
 love, one is cruel, but without it, ah ! what is it to be 
 without love ? I cannot tell, for I have lost what love I had, 
 and I am dead. Alas, alas ! It seems that none of ye know 
 where the King hath now His dwelling,-^-! must go seek Him 
 further. 'Tis useless to waste time in cursing me, 'twere 
 kinder to bestow on me some hope." 
 
 Here she staggered slightly, and seemed about to fall, 
 Mary Magdalene caught her round the waist. " I am not 
 well" she went on " There is such a strange weight at my 
 heart, and an aching heat upon my brows. Thou" and 
 turning, she put her arms about Mary's neck and looked her 
 full in the eyes " thou art my friend, we were in the 
 King's garden together were we not? two sinful, sorrowful 
 weak women, but we did not find Him there. Had He seen 
 us He would have pitied us. And Judas did not come. He 
 promised, but he did not come." 
 
 "Did'st thou not say that he would come at sunset?" 
 murmured Mary soothingly " 'Tis not yet sunset." 
 
 " Not yet sunset !" and Judith sighed, opening her beautiful
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 291 
 
 pained eyes in mournful languor and bewilderment "Surely it 
 should be near, for the skies are growing very dark, it will 
 soon be difficult to see one's way" 
 
 She broke off, gasping for breath ; the disciples exchanged 
 grave and alarmed glances, while Barabbas seized by a spasm 
 of fear sprang forward. 
 
 " Judith, speak to me !" he cried. 
 
 She looked at him, smiling a little, but still clinging to 
 Mary. 
 
 " Who is this?" she asked " He calls me by my name, 
 Aen surely he should know me." 
 
 "Judith, Judith ! I am Barabbas!" And he stretched out 
 his arms towards her in a passion of despair and yearning 
 agony. 
 
 Feebly she extended one hand to him. 
 
 " Art thou indeed Barabbas ?" she said, with an echo of 
 the old sweetness in her failing voice " Alas, Barabbas ! 
 Believe me, I am sorry for thee. Thou did'st love me !" 
 
 He grasped the little hand convulsively and turned away to 
 hide the scalding tears that fell. A great compassion for him 
 was expressed in tho earnest faces of the disciples, even 
 Peter's rugged features softened, and a troubled shame and 
 remorse for his recent harshness appeared to vex his shifting 
 and uneasy spirit. 
 
 Just then a terrible paroxysm of trembling seized Judith's 
 limbs, Mary Magdalene could scarcely support her, and 
 appealed to the others, with a frightened glance, for aid. 
 Barabbas and three of the disciples went to her assistance, 
 but the insane Judith was possessed of unnatural strength, 
 and twisted and writhed about with so much fury that it 
 seemed as though her whole frame were being torn and 
 tortured by devils, and they were afraid to seize her by force 
 lest this action should increase her frenzy. 
 
 " Lay her down under the trees by the roadside" said Peter, 
 in gentler tones than he had yet used " 'Tis a feverish con- 
 vulsion, and in the shade and cool, it will pass quickly." 
 
 But it was impossible to move her a step. She stood, 
 clutching Mary, obstinately forcing herself to remain upright, 
 and fighting against the physical anguish that was gradually 
 overcoming her, her eyes were fixed and stared straight 
 upward to the cloudless sky. All at once the horrible tremors 
 ceased, her face flushed suddenly into the radiance of its 
 former dazzling beauty, and with a violent movement, she
 
 292 BARABBAS 
 
 thrust the Magdalen aside. Like some great queen she lifted 
 her head with an imperial gesture, and her eyes flashed lire. 
 
 "What news bring ye from the city?" she demanded 
 "Do they mourn there or rejoice for the death of Caiaphas?" 
 
 " Alas, Judith, dream not so wildly 1" murmured Barabbas 
 quickly " Caiaphas is not dead, some enemy hath wounded 
 him in the night, but he doth live, and will live on, trouble 
 not thyself!" 
 
 As he spoke she looked at him strangely, and over her 
 features came a swift dusky pallor as of death. 
 
 " What! Caiaphas doth live and will live on?" she cried 
 " He is not dead? Then upon him, God of Israel, send 
 down thine everlasting curse ! let loose on him the fiends of 
 darkest hell ! Betrayer, seducer, liar and self-seeking hypo- 
 crite, remember, just God, remember the sins of this thy 
 so-called righteous servant in the Holy Place, and let thy judg- 
 ments meet the measure of his vileness ! Not upon Judas" 
 and she raised her arms aloft in passionate appeal " not 
 upon Judas, nor on any blind and ignorant sinner visit tny 
 vengeance, dread Lord, but on thy Priest who in pretence 
 of serving the Divine hath murdered it ! A curse on Caiaphas ! 
 the curse of dead Judas, the curse of dying Judith ' the 
 never-lifting curse of the v retched who are led by a priest's 
 Lie out of Heaven into Heh !" 
 
 Dilating with her inward passion, she looked like a pale 
 fierce prophetess denouncing the evils of the time, reason 
 for the moment seemed to have returned to her, her voice 
 was clear, her sentences connected, and Peter and the others 
 stared upon her amazed, awed and fascinated. But the rush 
 of her wild eloquence exhausted her, she lost breath and 
 looked vaguely about her, groping with her hands in a blind 
 way, as though she had become suddenly enveloped in dark- 
 ness. All at once she sprang forward eagerly with an impetu- 
 ous grace and swiftness that caused those around her to fall 
 hastily back, except Barabbas, who still tried to hold and 
 support her, though she with a gesture of her old pride and 
 scorn motioned him away. Alone on the white dusty road 
 she stood in a listening attitude, her eyes glittering, her lips 
 apart ; evidently she heard, or thought she heard, something 
 that to the others who watched her was but silence. The sun 
 poured atraightly down upon her, she looked like a fair 
 startled sylph in the amber glow of the burning Eastern 
 noonday, gi-adually an expression of surprise and then of
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 293 
 
 rapture lighted her pallid face, she lifted her gaze slowly, 
 and with seeming wonder and incredulity, fixed her eyes on 
 the near grassy slope of the Mount of Olives, where two 
 ancient fig-trees twining their gnarled boughs together made 
 an arch of dark and soothing shade. Pointing thither with 
 one hand, she smiled, and once more her matchless beauty 
 flashed up through fonn and face like a flame. 
 
 " Lo, there!" she exclaimed joyously " How is it that ye 
 could not find Him ? There is the King !" 
 
 Throwing up her arms, she ran eagerly along a few steps, 
 . . . tottered, . . . then fell face forward in the dust and 
 there lay; . . . motionless for ever ! She had prayed for the 
 pardon of Judas, she had sought and found the " King" ! 
 
 Barabbas, Mary Magdalene and the disciples quickly sur- 
 rounded the prone figure shrouded in its gold hair, but ere 
 they could raise it, the sound of a horse's hoofs galloping fast 
 down the road came closer and closer, and finally stopped. A 
 man's voice called out anxiously 
 
 " What have ye there ? Need ye any service?" 
 
 They looked up, and a solemn silence fell upon them. 
 For it was Iscariot. He had just returned from a vain search 
 for his daughter in the villages of Bethpage and Bethany. 
 In one keen glance he read in their awestricken faces his own 
 new misery, and dismounting from his horse he dispersed the 
 little group with a single tragic gesture of supreme despair. 
 The white figure fallen in the dust, the lustrous wonder of the 
 hair that covered it as with a mantle, swam before his eyes, 
 flinging himself down he clutched wildly at the corpse of that 
 fair child of his who had been to his heart above all earthly 
 things beloved. 
 
 "Judith I" he cried. 
 
 Then, slowly and shudderingly he lifted the body and turned 
 the face upward to the light, . . . alas, the piteous beauty of 
 that face ! what sadness, and what wonder in its fixed grave 
 smile ! So strongly too did it resemble the face of the dead 
 Judas, that had it not been for the wealth of woman's hair 
 falling about it, it might have been taken for the fine fair 
 remorseful countenance of that self-slain disciple. Yet a 
 certain vague joy rested on the quiet features ; one little 
 hand pressed against the bosom, held a cross ; this Iscariot 
 saw, and wrenching it from the stiffening fingers, flung it in 
 the dust. 
 
 " Get hence !" he cried fiercely " Ye madmen of Galilee, 
 25*
 
 294 BARABBAS 
 
 get hence ! Out of my sight, and linger not to triumph in 
 my misery 1 Behold, my house is desolate, I have no more 
 place or honour in the world ! Rejoice at that, ye enemies 
 of Israel ! What care I for your promised heaven ! ye have 
 reft from me the joy of earth ! What are your boasted 
 miracles ! your resurrections from the grave ! will ye give 
 me back my children ? Will ye raise up my son, self-slaugh- 
 tered for your Prophet's sake ? Will ye restore to me this 
 maid, the daughter of my blood, the treasure of my care ? 
 Nay ! ye are liars all ! ye have no power to comfort the 
 afflicted, ye cruel preachers of a loveless creed, ye cowards 
 and accurst ! Leave me I say ! leave me, . . . alone with 
 my dead !" 
 
 And clasping the body of his daughter in his arms, he laid 
 his grey head upon her still breast and wept, wept as only 
 strong men weep when they are broken-hearted. 
 
 Awed and troubled, and vaguely perplexed too by the 
 mystery of a grief and pain too great as it seemed for human 
 or divine consolement, the disciples slowly moved away, the 
 Magdalen accompanying them sorrowfully, her face veiled 
 to hide her tears, and only Barabbas remained beside the 
 stricken father to share with him his bitter agony. Once 
 Peter looked back and seemed to consider whether he should 
 speak. But he hesitated, for what, after all, could he say ? 
 He had not the secret of his Divine Master who by a mere 
 look could calm a tempest. True, he might have said " Be 
 patient, Iscariot ! God will comfort thee !" What ! This, 
 to a Pharisee and usurer? Never! Let him, instead of 
 children, hug his bags of ill-gotten gold, what Jew with 
 wealth hath need of other comfort? So Peter thought, yet 
 there was an uneasiness in his mind ; his Master, he well 
 knew, would not have acted thus, and he was by his lack of 
 broad sympathy, already falsifying and distorting the Divine 
 example. Tormented by, yet wilfully deaf to the teasing 
 whisper of conscience, he walked on " to meet the Lord" by 
 the road to Galilee, half hoping, half fearing, half doubting, 
 half believing, an image of the future on which he was 
 destined to set his lasting mark. Meanwhile John lingered a 
 moment, his earnest gaze rested compassionately on the 
 tragic group beneath the olive-boughs, the aged jew clasp- 
 ing his dead daughter, his grey locks mingling with her gold, 
 and the rugged dark figure of Barabbas standing near ; 
 then, stooping, he raised reverently from the dust the cross
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 295 
 
 Iscariot had thrown there, kissed it, laid it against his breast, 
 and with fair head bent musiugly and eyes full of dreams, 
 went slowly on his way. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 NEARLY a week had elapsed since the miracle of the Resur- 
 rection of the Crucified had been reported in Jerusalem. The 
 high-priest Caiaphas was recovering rapidly from his well-nigh 
 deadly wound, and had so far carried out certain secret plans 
 of his as to have had the centurion Galbus, together with his 
 companion Maximus, sent hastly out of Judaea and back to 
 Rome. Petronius too, the other centurion, suspected of sym- 
 pathy with the followers of the " Nazarene" was likewise dis- 
 missed, but all three officers had no sooner reached their 
 native country than they were at once promoted in the Roman 
 legions, by whose good office and influence no one knew, unless 
 the stranger Melchior who wore the Emperor's signet had 
 something to do with the matter. Meanwhile, it was gen- 
 erally understood among the Jews that the body of the 
 " Prophet out of Galilee" had been stolen, moreover, that 
 the authorities of the Sanhedrim council were already on the 
 track of the criminal concerned in the robbery. Public atten- 
 tion however, had been somewhat diverted from the matter 
 by the grand and picturesque obsequies of Judith Iscariot. 
 Never had the city seen such a sight as the long procession of 
 white-robed, lily-wreathed maidens who attended the corpse of 
 "the fairest woman in Judaea" to its last resting-place bedside 
 that of her ill-fated brother. White flowers and white dra- 
 peries symbolised to the people's gaze the dead girl's pure 
 virginity, and though some shook their heads and shrugged 
 their shoulders and whispered rumours of scandal, none dared 
 speak boldly of the truths they knew. For Iscariot was a 
 power in Jerusalem, his usurer's grip held fast the fortunes 
 of many a struggling household, the secret fear of him kept 
 would-be rancorous tongues mute. But the proud priest Caia- 
 phas hid his burning eyes in the pillows of his sick-bed, and 
 smarted in his guiity conscience as he heard the sound of the
 
 296 BARABBAS 
 
 dreary funeral chant passing by bis palace walls, yet he main- 
 tained a rigid silence, and his pale wife Rachel, coldly watch- 
 ing him, also held her peace. Between them lay the full and 
 true knowledge of Judith's deep dishonour, nevertheless, like 
 the murderous dagger she had used, which now was rusting at 
 the bottom of a well, that knowledge remained buried in their 
 hearts by unspoken yet mutual agreement. 
 . All the disciples and followers of the " Nazarene," men and 
 women alike, had left Jerusalem, some for fear of the priests, 
 some to return to their own homes in the country districts, 
 and the city inhabitants were beginning to fall back into their 
 usual methods of living, methods which had been so strangely 
 disorganised by late events. Joseph of Arimathea had had 
 his tomb, now rendered so sacred, hewn open from the top 
 that it might be more readily examined within and without, 
 and disgusted with the callousness and suspicions of the priests, 
 himself entirely believing in the Divine Resurrection from the 
 Dead, sold his fine house in Jerusalem, gave all the proceeds 
 to the poor and departed to his native humble town of Arima- 
 thea, there to dwell in retirement for good. Among other 
 gossip of the town it was rumoured that Pilate, the governor, 
 had written letters to the Emperor Tiberius, asking to be re- 
 called to Rome, on the plea of ill-health, but of this, nothing 
 was known for certain. 
 
 It was about the eighth day after the first Easter, and 
 over the little village of Nazareth the sun was sinking. A 
 blaze of royal gold and purple falling aslant from the west 
 reddened the outlying fertile valley and surrounding cornfields, 
 and poured warm splendour through the open doorway of a 
 small dark dwelling where sat an aged man, alone at a carpenter's 
 bench, working busily, though sunset was the usual sign for 
 rest from labour. He was finishing a wooden cradle of which 
 every portion was panelled into squares of curious and elaborate 
 carving. His wrinkled hands manipulated the carving tools 
 with singular swiftness and dexterity, and as he fashioned a 
 flower or a leaf in the design, he worked with the minute and 
 fastidious care of an artist who loves the labour he has chosen. 
 Beside him on the bench lay a fresh-gathered branch of field- 
 lilies, he was copying these on a square of wood with ex- 
 traordinary fidelity. The red glow of the skies illumined his 
 bent, roughly-clad figure, and set a rose-halo round his snow- 
 white hair, he was completely absorbed in his toil, so much 
 so that he did not hear an approaching slow footstep at hia
 
 A DREAM OF TEE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 297 
 
 door, or see the shadow which darkened it and partially robbed 
 him of the sun. 
 
 "Art thou Joseph, the carpenter of Nazareth?" said a 
 harsh sad voice, suddenly addressing him "And dost thou 
 work thus peacefully without mourning, thy son being dead 
 yonder in Jerusalem ?" 
 
 The old man started. Laying down the panel he was carving, 
 .he shaded his eyes with one hand from the sun, and looked up 
 jdirnly and wonderingly at his questioner. He saw before him 
 /a tall broad-shouldered man, dark and fierce-featured, travel- 
 worn and dusty, with terrible black eyes that burned beneath 
 his shaggy brows with the danger-fires born of long pent-up 
 unshed tears. 
 
 " What stranger art thou ?" he demanded " Why comest 
 thou hither?" 
 
 " I am an outcast of the world, by name Barabbas," and 
 as the intruder gave this answer, he moved a step or two within 
 the shed " Thus have I answered thee straightway but to me 
 thou offerest no quick reply. I have come hither from Jeru- 
 salem, impelled by a desire to find thee and to speak with thee, 
 if peradventure thou art he of whom the people tell me. 
 Wherefore I ask again, art thou or art thou not Joseph, son 
 of Jacob, a descendant of the House of David, and father of 
 Him who was called ' the King of the Jews' ?" 
 
 Rising from his bench, the venerable man confronted his 
 importunate visitor. 
 
 " Yea, I am Joseph :" he answered mildly. 
 
 Barabbas, gaunt and worn with sorrow, sleeplessness and 
 fatigue, fixed upon him a piercing look as though he sought to 
 read the inmost secrets of his soul. 
 
 " Surely thou art a poor and aged man" he muttered faintly 
 " On the brink of the grave thy feet are treading, with 
 that darkness waiting for thee, that darkness in which we know 
 not what may chance to us, thou wilt not lie ! I shall find 
 truth in thee doubtless, truth truth at last" 
 
 His voice failed him, his eyes closed, he dropped wearily 
 on a low bench near the door. He had travelled for two days 
 with scarcely any rest or food, and in his exhausted condition 
 it was some minutes before he perceived that Joseph was prof- 
 fering him a wooden bowl full of pure cool water. He drank 
 gratefully, and recovering himself a little he again turned his 
 
 eyes on the imposing, reverend figure beside him. 
 " I ain Barabbas" he repeated presently after a 
 
 pause,
 
 298 BARABBAS 
 
 " But perchance that Dame doth tell thee nothing. Hear then 
 its meaning. I have been thief, rebel and murderer, no good 
 thing is there in my mind towards any man ; by right and 
 justice I should have been crucified instead of Him who was 
 thy Son, for He was innocent and I am guilty. But if thou 
 knowest the world's ways, this will not seem unto thee strange, 
 for man's laws are made to excuse man's guilt, and innocence 
 is ever slain, being a virtue unrequired, an aggravation and re- 
 proach to wickedness. So hath it been in Jerusalem these past 
 wild days, and so methinks will it ever be in all the laby- 
 rinths of this life. Freedom hath done me little service, I 
 have lived centuries of grief since the doors of my prison were 
 unbarred, I thirsted for my liberty, it came, but brought 
 me naught but sorrow, rather would I have died than suffered 
 as I have suffered, death did never seem to me so sweet and 
 welcome as now, God knoweth it 1 Thou lookest at me with 
 most unmoved and placid face, carest thou not that they have 
 slain thy son ?" 
 
 Joseph said no word, but stood immovably erect, the sunset- 
 glow shining warmly about him and widening its ring of glory 
 round his silvery hair. 
 
 " Howbeit now it seems they nave not slain Him after all, 
 and thou perchance dost know it" went on Barabbas, watch- 
 ing for some change of expression in the old man's peaceful 
 countenance " And all the world is growing mad with talk 
 of ' miracles.' He hath arisen living from the dead, and hath 
 appeared to His followers part of this tale is true, but has 
 no ' miracle' in it, inasmuch as I am sure He never died. He 
 swooned upon the Cross and recovered in the tomb, and doubt- 
 less will appear to men for many years to come, and thus will 
 be confirmed the story of His resurrection. Markest thou 
 this ? No Diviuity was in this Man, nor any sort of ' miracle ;' 
 thou, Joseph, dost not assume Divinity for the Child begotten 
 of thy will and born of thy blood in mortal fashion as all 
 creatures of mortality are born ?" 
 
 He had spoken in tones that were purposely cold and matter- 
 of-fact, yet under his assumed composure there was concealed 
 a keen and painful anxiety. Still silent, Joseph stood, a regal 
 figure, bathed in the purple and gold reflections of the evening 
 skies. At last Barabbas could bear the suspense no longer, 
 his suppressed impatience broke forth in a kind of fury. 
 
 " Speak, man, speak I" he cried passionately " Oh, if thou 
 knewest my tortures ! Lo, I have seen this Man, this ' King
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 299 
 
 of the Jews,' in all His fair, heroic appalling beauty ! His 
 face, His voice, His aspect haunt me ! His patient eyes 
 consume my soul ! Man or God, whiche'er He be, in very 
 truth His looks were more of God than Man, His ten- 
 derness was more than human ! Men are cruel to each 
 other, He was pitiful, men complain, He never mur- 
 mured ! I watched Him die, He made a glory out of pain ! 
 and on the morn when it was said He had risen from His 
 grave, I, even I myself, saw Him walking softly 'mid the 
 shadows of the dawn and speaking ay ! to whom, thinkest 
 thou, did He speak? To a broken-hearted woman whose sins 
 He had forgiven 1 'Twas marvellous, no man newly escaped 
 from the grave would have stopped for this methinks, yet 
 God, we are taught, is vengeful, wherefore it seeuis this 
 ' Nazarene' is neither man nor god. Oh that I knew Him as 
 He truly is ! I would dare all things for this one instruction I 
 Lo, I have pleaded even with His mother, thy wife, praying 
 her to tell me of His birth which now is also said to be a 
 ' miracle' but she was dumb, even as thou art, and while I 
 looked upon her a great light shone about her face, a light 
 mystic and wonderful that filled my soul with fear. Even 
 such a splendour did invest the ' Nazarene' when I beheld Him 
 in the Hall of Judgment, beauty and light seemed portion 
 of His nature. Nevertheless the terror of this mystery doth 
 madden me ; hence I have come to thee ; speak thou the 
 truth, Joseph, as simple man and honest, and tell me all thou 
 can'st of this same Jesus, the wonder of Judaea, thou, as 
 His father must know everything concerning Him, even from 
 the very hour that He was born into the world ! Wherefore, 
 if only out of mercy to my pain and ignorance I do beseech 
 thee, speak !" 
 
 " What can I tell thee, tortured soul !" said Joseph at last, 
 in solemn compassionate accents " Save that the Man Divine 
 was not my Son !" 
 
 Barabbas sprang up and caught him convulsively by the arm. 
 
 "Not thy Son!" he echoed u Was not Mary thy wife? 
 Hast thou no children ?" 
 
 " None who call Her their mother," replied Joseph 
 " Children indeed I have, but these were born to me in early 
 manhood by my first wedded wife long dead. Mary I knew 
 not save as one removed from earth, a heavenly Virgin whose 
 white purity and singular destiny I was commanded to defend." 
 
 ' But dicTst thou not espouse her?"
 
 300 BARABBAS 
 
 " Even as I was bidden" answered Joseph simply " And 
 worshipped her as Angel and as Queen !" 
 
 "Ah, now thou also dost conluse me with vain words" 
 exclaimed Barabbas half angrily " Why dost thou name her 
 thus royally ? Many of the people say she was a stray maiden 
 out of Egypt." 
 
 A dreamy rapt look came into Joseph's deep-set eyes. 
 
 " If she was of any earthly land she was of Egypt," he said 
 musingly " And to Egypt I was bidden to take her for pro- 
 tection when Herod the tyrant threatened the life of her young 
 Child. When first I met her, 'twas in spring, a quiet evening 
 in the month of May, she walked alone across the fields, like 
 a phantom of the moon with a strange light in her hair, and a 
 stranger glory in her eyes ! methought that I had met an angel 
 out of heaven, and down among the flowerets at her feet I knelt 
 adoringly !" He paused in a sort of ecstasy then resumed 
 calmly " 'Twas at her will and wish that I espoused her in 
 the sight of man ; once, to speak truth, I hesitated, fearing 
 evil, but then again the bidding came and I obeyed it." 
 
 "Why speakest thou of bidding or forbidding?" cried Ba- 
 rabbas, perplexed and baffled u What meanest thou ? Was 
 not this Jesus born of Mary ? and didst thou not espouse her, 
 woman or angel or queen. no matter whence she came or at 
 what hour, was ehe not thine?" 
 
 " No !" answered Joseph with sudden and passionate vehe- 
 mence " Dare not to utter such a blasphemy ! She was never 
 mine, never, by look or word or touch or breath ! The angels 
 were her friends, they sang to her from the furthest stars on 
 the night of her Child's birth, I was her faithful servant 
 only !" 
 
 " Thou ravest !" and Barabbas, strung up to a nervous pitch 
 of excitement, could scarcely restrain his deepening sense of 
 incredulity and anger " Thou art as mad as all the rest of 
 those concerned in this strange business ! But I have come 
 to thee for truth, and truth I will wrest from thee despite eva- 
 sion ! Thou poor, frail man ! dost thou not fear death ? 
 and wilt thou on the very edge of thy near tomb, play with 
 delusion and pronounce a lie? Thou knewest the birth of 
 Mary's Child; if He was not thy Son, whose Son was 
 He?" 
 
 A sudden shadow swept the floor, the sun had sunk ; 
 there was a momentary dread silence that made itself almost 
 felt. The chill grey of the evening crept stealthily over tha
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 301 
 
 mitside landscape, and in the semi-gloom of the hut, the two 
 men stood facing each other, speechless and trembling. 
 
 " Whose Son" repeated Barabbas in a faint awed whisper 
 "was He?" 
 
 A vague terror and bewilderment clouded Joseph's features. 
 Raising his hands with an eloquent gesture of solemn earnest- 
 ness, he looked full at the daring questioner. 
 
 " In the name of the great God that made us," he said trem- 
 ulously " I swear I never knew ! I never knew ! I only 
 . . . dreamed !" 
 
 As he spoke, a flashing light poured itself swiftly aslant in 
 a golden blaze athwart the deepening dusk ; affrighted at the 
 sudden brilliancy, he turned quickly round towards the open 
 doorway, . . . then with a wild cry ... 
 
 " Lo there ! there !" he gasped " Behold Him where He 
 stands ! Ask Him, not me ! Question Him concerning that 
 to which no mortal man hath answer !" 
 
 And falling to the ground he covered his face, while Ba- 
 rabbas staggered back amazed, blinded, breathless, and smitten 
 with terror ; before him, in silent, royal, radiant beauty stood 
 the " Nazarene" ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIL 
 
 THE same lustrous Face that had shone in pale splendour on 
 the Cross, the same deep Eyes that had looked their dying 
 pardon on the world, the same, the very same ! the one 
 recognisable Beloved through all ages, " the same yesterday 
 to-day and for ever." And yet how transfigured was that 
 Human Semblance ! how permeated through and through with 
 the glory of the Divine ! Light streamed above and below the 
 Kingly Form that seemed clad in cloud and fire, rays of 
 celestial gold flashed round the god-like brows ; all the majesty 
 of morning, noon and night, and all the mystic secrets of crea- 
 tion were centred in the lightning glances that with power shed 
 forth love, love unutterable and vast, love beyond any mortal 
 comprehension, love flung out inimitably as sunshine, a<j 
 widely as the sweet ungrudging air ! Fearing greatly, but still 
 doubting the testimony of his own sight and sense, Barabbas 
 knelt and gazed appealingly at the supernal Vision, asking him- 
 26
 
 302 BARABBAS 
 
 self the while whether it were a phantom of his mind, or the 
 reflex of a marvellous Reality. Seeking to be convinced, he 
 forced himself to note the trivial things of every day around 
 him, the carpenter's bench, the branch of lilies lying across 
 it, the implements of wood-carving, all these evidences of 
 practical toil and daily life he realised in every detail. There 
 too a little apart from him knelt the aged Joseph, his face 
 covered in his mantle, a figure real and tangible and earthly ; 
 and out through the open doorway, beyond the Angel-stature 
 of the Shining One, stretched the cool length of the meadow 
 opposite and the further cornfields dimly seen in the darkening 
 eve. It was no dream then ! the world was the world still 
 and not a chaos of spectral fancies ; this great " King" standing 
 patiently upon the humble threshold of His childhood's hab- 
 itation was no phantom but a glorious living Truth ! and as 
 Barabbas gradually became conscious of this, he prayed in- 
 wardly that he might die at so supreme a moment of tran- 
 scendent ecstasy. And presently he felt a yearning impulse to 
 draw nearer to the Divine Presence, and at the first thrill of 
 this desire in his soul, the Vision seemed to smile a welcome. 
 Nearer and nearer still he crept, with beating heart and strug- 
 gling breath, he a poor mortal sinner dared to approach im- 
 mortal Purity, till at last he could almost feel the quivering 
 of the lambent light that glittered in a golden aureole round 
 the risen Form of the world's Redeemer. 
 
 " Master, is it Thou !" he whispered " Thou, in very truth ! 
 why hast Thou come to me when I have doubted Thee? 
 Punish me, I beseech Thee, with the judgment due unto my 
 sin and disbelief ; I am unfit for life or death ; here at Thy 
 feet I fain would perish utterly !" 
 
 Deep silence answered him, such tender silence as soothes 
 the weary into rest. Trembling, he ventured to lift his eyes, 
 the wondrous love and glory of the Countenance he looked 
 upon filled him with rapture, his long-imprisoned suffering 
 soul awoke at last to the full consciousness of an immortal 
 destiny. 
 
 " I believe ! I believe in Thee, Thou Divine !" he cried 
 " Lellne"foIIow Thee wheresoe'er Thou goest ! Let me not lose 
 Thee, the one Truth in a false world! Take me with Thee, 
 the servant of Thy will, beyond the things of earth and time, 
 no matter where all must be well if Thou dost guide !" 
 
 As he thus made his passionate supplication, the luminous 
 Figure moved slowly backward, turned, and passed floatingly
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 303 
 
 in a path of light across the meadows, Barabbas hastily rose 
 to his feet and followed fast. Seeing nothing, knowing nothing, 
 remembering nothing save that crowned Wonder of the Ages 
 that glided on before him, he brushed his way through fragrant 
 flowers, and seemed to walk on air. A great joy possessed 
 him, such joy as once he would have deemed impossible to 
 win, the soft breeze blowing against his face felt like a caresa 
 from heaven, he was dimly aware that a few stars were hang- 
 ing like drops of dew in the dusky ether, but the exaltation 
 of his spirit was such that earth and all its manifold beauty 
 weighed but as one drop in the wave of ecstasy that absorbed 
 his every sense. All at once on the shadowy bend of a little 
 hill, the radiant Vision paused, . . . then like a cloud dis- 
 solving into air, suddenly vanished ! 
 
 Barabbas halted abruptly and looked about him. He was 
 already some miles away from Nazureth, and there was dark- 
 ness before him where there had been light. But happiness 
 stayed within his soul and he was not in any way anxious or 
 disheartened. The great " King" had disappeared, but what 
 then ! His departure was but temporary, He lived and He 
 would come again. Exulting in the joy of faith, Barabbas 
 raised his eyes to the quiet heaven, and wondered whether 
 there were truly such a thing as misery ? could man be 
 wretched with a God for his friend, and the certainty of life 
 immortal ? Who would sit down and grieve for loss of love, 
 for death or ill fortune in the world, when all evil was destined 
 to be changed to good in the end ? And the once sorrowful 
 and embittered Barabbas was content, his doubts were set 
 at rest for ever. 
 
 "'Twas a God they slew!" he said " Tis a God that is 
 arisen from the grave ! And to that God, the Christ and Sa- 
 viour of mankind, I render up my soul !" 
 
 He uttered the words aloud, in the full belief that they were 
 heard. And though no answer came in mortal speech, there 
 was bestowed upon him the sweetest sense of rest and peace 
 and gladness his life had ever known. Cheerily and in perfect 
 confidence he moved onward in the path where he had found 
 himself set according to the following of the " Master ;" it led 
 straight over the hills and back to Jerusalem. As he went, he 
 resolved his plans. He would return to his strange acquaint- 
 ance Melchior, who had always bidden him to believe in the 
 Divinity of the " Nazarene," and who had placed no obstacles 
 whatever in the way of his endeavouring to find out truth for
 
 304 BARABBAS 
 
 himself, and to him first he would narrate his adventure at 
 Nazareth. Then he would declare his faith, not only to Mel- 
 chior but to every one who asked him concerning it, he would 
 show no hesitation or shame in the full confession of his happy 
 change. What the result would be he did not consider, the 
 inward spiritual strength he felt made him totally indifferent to 
 earthly consequences. The cruelty, the rancour and malice of 
 men were powerless to touch him henceforth ; for the bitterest 
 suffering, the most agonising martyrdom would seem easy of 
 endurance to one who had truly seen the Christ, knowing that 
 it was Christ indeed ! 
 
 Of Joseph to whom he had paid so abrupt a visit he thought 
 no more. Could he have known what had chanced, the shadow 
 of a vague regret might in part have clouded his own personal 
 joy. Some people of Nazareth going early to their labour in 
 the cornfields noticed that the familiar and reverend figure of 
 the old man was not seen at work as usual ; and they straight- 
 way went to inquire the cause. They found him resting easily 
 on the ground, his white head leaning against the carpenter's 
 bench on which a branch of lilies lay slowly withering, his 
 eyes were closed in apparent deep and placid slumber. Two of 
 his sons came in and strove to rouse him ; and not till they had 
 lilted him up and carried him out to the open air where they 
 laid him down on the grass among the nodding field-flowers, 
 with face upturned to the sun, did they discover that he had 
 quietly passed away into the living splendour of eternal things, 
 where age is turned to youth, and the darkest " dreams" make 
 their meanings clear I 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 . THE broad lustre of a full moon spread itself like powdered 
 silver over the walls and turrets of Jerusalem on the night 
 Barabbas returned thither from his journey to Nazareth. He 
 arrived late and the gates of the city were locked, but he 
 succeeded in rousing a sleepy watchman who came out of the 
 guard-room in answer to his summons and was about to unbar 
 a side portal and let him through, when suddenly pausing in 
 his intent, he rubbed his drowsy eyes and stared, astonished.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 305 
 
 " Why, art tbou not Barabbas?" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yea, truly am 1 1 What then ? Hast business with me ?" 
 
 But the watchman gave him no direct reply. Dropping the 
 bolt he had just withdrawn back into its place he shouted 
 aloud 
 
 "Ho there ! Waken, ye lazy rascals, and come forth ! Here 
 is the man ye seek, Barabbas !" 
 
 There followed a hoarse shout, a hasty trampling of feet and 
 the clash of armour, and almost before the bewildered Barabbas 
 could realise what had happened, he was surrounded by soldiers, 
 seized and taken prisoner. Perplexed but not dismayed, he 
 made no effort to escape. He glanced from one to the other 
 of his captors, they were Romans and all strangers to him. 
 
 " What jest is this?" he demanded " Why do ye suddenly 
 maltreat me thus ? Surely ye know the people's vote hath set 
 me free, for what cause am I again a captive ?" 
 
 " Hold thy peace, ruffian !" said one of the men angrily 
 " 'Tis not for criminals to question law !" 
 
 " Full well I know I am a criminal," responded Barabbaa 
 patiently " Nevertheless by law my crimes were lately par- 
 doned. Of what new fault am I accused?" 
 
 " Of a base attempt to murder the high-priest Caiaphas 1" 
 answered an officer who seemed to be the leader of the band 
 " He hath nearly died of a deadly wound inflicted by a secret 
 assassin, and he doth swear thou art the man 1 Moreover thou 
 art also judged guilty of connivance with the followers of the 
 ' Nazarene' in plot to steal His body from the tomb officially 
 sealed. Thou wert seen in converse with a woman of ill fame 
 named Magdalen, thou wert also in the company of Simon 
 Peter, and again, certain comrades-at-arms of ours met thee 
 on the morning when the corpse of the ' Nazarene' was missing, 
 on the highroad to the sepulchre. These be proofs enough 
 against thee, remembering thy former reputation 1 and for 
 these things thou shalt surely die !" 
 
 Barabbas heard all this with a curious passiveness. 
 
 " Caiaphas doth accuse me thus ?" he asked. 
 
 " Caiaphas hath denounced thee unto Pilate, and most 
 furiously demands thy punishment" was the reply " Ques- 
 tion thy fate no more, but come thou with us quietly, and fight 
 not uselessly against thy destiny." 
 
 Barabbas smiled. The plans of Caiaphas were singularly 
 transparent reading ! To shield the dead Judith Iscariot and 
 himself from suspicion and slander, he had cunningly devised 
 t* 26*
 
 3Ub' BARABBAS 
 
 this false accusation against an already known criminal, more- 
 over he was hereby able to indulge his own private spite and 
 vengeance against Barabbas for ever having been one of 
 Judith's many lovers. The additional charge made, that of 
 stealing the body of the Crucified from the tomb, was to 
 throw dust in the people's eyes, and silence, if possible, all 
 rumours respecting the miracle of the Resurrection. The whole 
 situation was perfectly clear, but the victim of the high- 
 priest's crafty scheme was in no wise disconcerted by evil cir- 
 cumstance. Addressing the officer who had condescended to 
 give him an explanation of the cause of his sudden arrest, he 
 said gently 
 
 " Friend, be assured that whatsoe'er my destiny I am pre- 
 pared to meet it !" and he held out his wrists that they might 
 be more easily manacled " I am innocent this time of the 
 deeds whereof I am accused, howbeit, innocence doth count 
 as nothing in the working of the world's laws, wherefore I 
 say, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth I am willing and ready 
 to die 1" 
 
 " Rash fool !" cried a soldier, striking him " Dare not to 
 speak thus if thou dost value life ! That utterence of thine 
 alone is blasphemy ! rank blasphemy enough to slay thee !" 
 
 " And as I shall be slain, the manner of my speech doth 
 little matter" responded Barabbas tranquilly " Methinks a 
 man should speak the truth that is within him, no matter 
 whether death or life be imminent. Come, come 1 lead on ! 
 Quarrel not ; this is no time for quarrelling. Ye are but the 
 hirelings of the law, and cannot help but do the deeds that are 
 commanded ; let us be friends, good Romans ! I bear you no 
 ill-will. See 1 I struggle not at all ; ye are well within your 
 right ye must obey authority, albeit that authority be of earth 
 and brief withal. I also must obey authority, but the com- 
 mands that I receive are changeless, and whosoever disobeys 
 them is accurst 1" 
 
 His eyes flashed a sombre glory as he spoke, as the fetters 
 were fastened on his wrists, he smiled again. 
 
 " He is mad !" said the soldiers, vaguely awed and ex- 
 changing wondering glances " They say he loved Judith 
 Iscariot; perchance her death hath turned his brain." 
 
 Barabbas heard them whispering thus among themselves, but 
 gave no outward sign of attention. Judith Iscariot ! Yes, he 
 had loved her and he loved her still, being dead, she was far 
 dearer to him than if she had lived on. For she was now no
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 307 
 
 longer Judith Iscariot, she was a new creature, removed, in- 
 definable and mystic, a spirit released, to good or evil, who 
 could say ? but at any rate safe from the clamour of the world 
 and the deeper taint of sin. Full of his own meditations, he 
 maintained an absolute silence while the soldiers marched him 
 quickly through the streets of the slumbering city, to the 
 gloomy prison, where the formidable gates that had so lately 
 opened to release him, once more enclosed him, and shut out, 
 as he felt for ever, all hope of earthly freedom. 
 
 " What 1 Art thou back again, Barabbas ?" growled the 
 gaoler, flashing his lantern into the prisoner's eyes as he spoke 
 " Well, well! what folly will do for a man ! 'Tis but a 
 fortnight surely since thou wert set at liberty, with all the 
 people cheering thee, yet thou hast such an ingrained bad 
 nature thou can'st not keep thee out of mischief. They cru- 
 cified thy yelping dog of a comrade, Hanan, now it is likely 
 they will crucify thee. What sayest thou to that for a finish 
 to a rogue's career ?" 
 
 Barabbas was mute. Sudden tears swam in his eyes, he 
 was thinking of a Supreme Figure, and a Divine Face, that on 
 the Cross had made death glorious. 
 
 " Mum as a post, sullen as a bear !" continued the gaoler 
 gruffly " Such as thou art are the worst characters. There is 
 no hope for the surly and impenitent ! Come hither and take 
 possession of thy former cell not a soul hath been in it, save 
 perchance a starving rat, since thou wert there. Get thee in 
 and make thy peace with Heaven !" 
 
 He opened the door of the very same wretched den in which 
 Barabbas had already passed eighteen months of rebellious pain 
 and misery, and made as though he would thrust his captive 
 in. Barabbas paused on the threshold, and looked him frankly 
 in the face. 
 
 " Nay, be not rough with me !" he said gently " There is 
 no need for anger. This time I am innocent of all the faults 
 whereof I am wrongfully accused. Nevertheless I was most 
 wrongfully released, 'twas the people's caprice and no true 
 justice ; wherefore I am ready now to atone. And surely as 
 thou sayest, I will strive to make my peace with Heaven !" 
 
 A great beauty illumined his dark features, his eyes were 
 soft and earnest, on his lips there rested a faint grave smile. 
 
 The gaoler stared at him, perplexed and dimly touched. 
 
 " An' thou art civil-tongued I will not vex thy last hours" 
 he said, in friendlier accents" Thou'lt have a full day's peni-
 
 308 BARABBAS 
 
 tence, the Council will not sit to-morrow. Thou shalt not 
 starve or thirst meanwhile, for though I know thou art a rank 
 villain I'll see to that, more I cannot do for thee, so make 
 the best of thy old lodging." 
 
 He closed the iron door, bolting and barring it with heavy 
 noise, Barabbas listened, with an instinctive sense that for 
 him it barred out the world eternally. Standing upright, he 
 looked about him. The same dungeon ! the same narrow line 
 of light piercing the thick obscurity 1 It fell from the moon, 
 a pure stream of silver, and he sat down presently on a stone 
 projection of the wall to watch it. In this attitude, with face 
 lifted to the mild radiance, he was happy and at rest, his 
 wretched prison seemed beautiful to him, and the prospect of 
 a speedy death contained no terror but rather joy. 
 
 He passed the night tranquilly, in wakeful meditation, till 
 the arrowy moonbeam in his cell changed to a golden shaft 
 shot aslant from the rising sun. With the morning the gaoler 
 brought him food and drink, and asked him whether he had 
 slept. 
 
 " Not I !" he answered cheerfully " 'Twas nigh on the ap- 
 proach of dawn when I came hither, and the pleasure of my 
 thoughts did banish slumber. Is it a fair day ?" 
 
 " Yea, 'tis a fair day," replied the gaoler, secretly marvel- 
 ling at the composure of the captive " Though methinks thou 
 should'st be little interested in the weather fair or foul. Thou 
 hast another day and night to pass alive, in the pleasure of thy 
 thoughts as thou sayest, and after that thou wilt think no 
 more ! Knowest thou of what thou art suspect ?" 
 
 " Something have I heard," responded Barabbas " But 
 truly I suspect myself of more sins than Councils wot of 1" 
 
 The gaoler stared and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Thou speakest in riddles," he said" And thou art alto- 
 gether a strange rascal. Nevertheless I have made inquiry 
 concerning thee. Thy case is hopeless for 'tis Caiaphas who 
 doth accuse thee." 
 
 " This doth not astonish me ;" said Barabbas. 
 
 " He hath reason then ?" 
 
 " Nay, he hath no reason. But I find nothing marvellous 
 in that a priest should lie !" 
 
 The gaoler chuckled hoarsely. 
 
 "I like thee for that saying! rogue as thou art I like 
 thee !" and he rubbed his hands complacently " Thou hast 
 wit and sense withal ! Why, man, if God is anything of the
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 309 
 
 likenesa His priests would make Him out to be, He is the 
 worst and most boastful tyrant that ever wreaked havoc on man- 
 kind 1 But take heed to thyself ! speak not thus rashly, , 
 think on the ' Nazarene' who set Himself against this priestcraft, 
 and would have had it all abolished or made new had He ob- 
 tained His will. He had a daring spirit, that young Man of 
 Nazareth ! I myself once heard Him say that it was not well 
 to pray in public places to be seen of men. This was a blow di- 
 rect at the keeping up of temples and fat priests to serve in them, 
 but look you He suffered for His boldness and though 'twas 
 said He was the Son of God, that did not save Him" 
 
 " Prithee be reverent in thy speech," interposed Barabbas 
 gently " Take heed thyself that thou blaspheme not ! He 
 was, He is the Son of God ! the Risen from the Dead, the 
 Saviour of the world, as such I know and do acknowledge 
 Him !" 
 
 " By Israel, now do I see that thou art mad !" cried the 
 gaoler backing away from him " Mad, raving mad ! touched 
 by the fever of miracles that hath lately plagued Jerusalem j 
 this ' Nazarene' hath bewitched the very air 1 Prate to thy- 
 self of such follies, not to me ; I have no patience with dis- 
 tempered brains. Prepare thee for thy cross to-morrow ! 
 this will be more wholesome meditation for thy mind. Thou 
 wilt see me no more ; I was sorry for thy ups and downs of 
 fortune, thy brief glimpse of freedom finishing in new im- 
 prisonment ; but now, verily as I live, I think thee danger- 
 ous and only fit to die !" 
 
 With these words he turned to leave the dungeon ; Barabba? 
 extended his fettered hands. 
 
 " Farewell, friend !" he said. 
 
 The gaoler looked round grudgingly and in ill-humour, he 
 was vexed with himself at the singular interest this man Ba- 
 rabbas had awakened in him, and he was ashamed to show it. 
 He eyed the tall, muscular figure up and down severely, and 
 met the full calm gaze of the dark earnest eyes, then, as it 
 were against his own will, he hastily grasped the hands and as 
 hastily let them go. 
 
 " Farewell 1" he responded curtly " "When thou diest, die 
 bravely 1" 
 
 And he disappeared, making more clanging noise than usual 
 in his impatient bolting aud barring of the door. 
 
 Left alone, Barabbas fell back into his former train of happy 
 musing. Of the narrow discomfort, heat and darkness of hia
 
 310 BARABBAS 
 
 miserable dungeon he was scarcely conscious, be was more 
 triumphant than any conquering king in the fulness and joy 
 of the knowledge of things eternal. He had been lifted to 
 that sublimity and supremacy of pure faith which alone en- 
 ables a man to bear sorrow nobly, to dare all things and hope 
 all things ; the warm sweet certainty of something higher, 
 grander and lovelier than this life and all that it contains, 
 nestled in his heart like a brooding bird and kept him glad and 
 tranquil. At times he felt a strong desire to pray to that Di- 
 vine Friend who after guiding him a little way had suddenly 
 departed from him on the hills above Nazareth, to ask Him 
 to bestow the beauty of His glorious Presence on His wor- 
 shipping servant once again. But he checked this longing, 
 it seemed like a renewal of doubt, as if he sought to be 
 convinced and re-convinced of truth immutably declared. To 
 pray for further benefit after so much had been bestowed 
 would surely be both selfish and ungrateful. Therefore he 
 made no appeal, but sat in solitary communing with his own 
 soul, which now, completely aroused to the long-withheld con- 
 sciousness of immortality, already aspired to its native sover- 
 eignty in glorious worlds unseen. 
 
 The day wore slowly onward, and again the night dropped 
 down its dusky purple curtain patterned with the stars and 
 moon. A pleasant sense of weariness overcame Barabbas at 
 last, he took no thought for the morrow on which it seemed 
 likely he would be tried before Caiaphas, found guilty and put 
 to death, except in so far that he had resolved to make no 
 defence, as he could not do so without implicating the dead 
 Judith. Also, he had determined that when questioned con- 
 cerning the supposed theft of the body of the Christ from the 
 sepulchre, he would openly declare his faith, and would pro- 
 nounce before all the scribes and Pharisees the adjuration ; 
 " Jesus of Nazareth, Son of the living God! 11 And with this 
 very phrase upon his lips, he threw himself down upon the 
 straw that was heaped in one corner of his dungeon, closed his 
 eyes and fell fast asleep. 
 
 In his sleep he dreamed a pleasing dream. He fancied he 
 was lying on a couch of emerald moss, softer than softest vel- 
 vet, that flowers of every hue and every fragrance were 
 blossoming round him, and that beside him sat a shining 
 figure in white, weaving a crown of thornless roses. " Where 
 have I wandered ?" he murmured " Into what wondrous 
 country of fair sights and sounds ?" And the angelic shape
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 3H 
 
 beside him made musical response, "Thou hast reached a 
 place of shelter out of storm, and after many days of watch- 
 ing and of trouble we have persuaded thee hither. Rest now 
 and take thy joy freely ; thou art safe in the King's Garden !" 
 
 With these words ringing yet in his ears he suddenly awoke, 
 and waking, wondered what ailed him. He felt faint and 
 giddy ; the walls of his prison appeared to rock to and fro as 
 in an earthquake, and the nightly moonbeam falling aslant, 
 struck his eyes sharply like a whip of fire. Something cold 
 and heavy pressed with numbing force upon his heart, an icy 
 sense of suffocation rose in his throat, and in the acute suffer- 
 ing of the moment, he struggled to his feet, though he could 
 scarcely stand and only breathed with difficulty. The blood 
 galloped feverishly in his veins, then abruptly stilled itself 
 and seemed to freeze, the chill pang at his heart ceased, leav- 
 ing his limbs numb and quivering. Exhausted by this spasm 
 of physical agony, his head dropped feebly on his breast and he 
 leaned against the wall for support panting for breath, . . . 
 when, ... all at once a great light, like the pouring-out of 
 liquid gold, flashed dazzlingly into his cell ! He looked up, 
 . . . and uttered a cry of rapture ! Again, again ! face to 
 face with him in his lonely dungeon, he beheld the " Naza- 
 rene !" The Vision Beautiful ! the shining Figure, the radi- 
 ant Face of the Divine " Man of Sorrows 1" this was the 
 marvellous Glory revealed within the gloom ! 
 
 Awed, but not afraid, Barabbas raised his eyes to his super- 
 nal Visitant. 
 
 " Lord Lord !" he gasped faintly stretching his manacled 
 hands blindly forth " I am not worthy I Why hast Thou 
 come to me ? I, Barabbas, am unfit to look upon Thee ! I 
 should have died upon the cross, not Thou ! Command me 
 therefore to some place of punishment, some desert in the 
 darkest ways of death ! there let me rid myself of sin, if this 
 be possible, by faith in Thee by love !" 
 
 He broke off, trembling, and the great Christ seemed to 
 smile. Filled with excess of joy, he now beheld that Divine 
 Figure bending tenderly towards him, gentle Hands were laid 
 upon his bruised and fettered wrists ; Hands that drew him 
 close and closer yet, slowly and surely upwards, upwards into 
 puch light and air as never gladdened earth, and a thrilling 
 Voice whispered 
 
 " Whosoever believeth in Me shall not abide in Darkness ! 
 Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord /"
 
 312 BARABBAS 
 
 The light widened into a rippling sea of gold and azure, 
 the dungeon walls appeared to totter and crumble to nothing- 
 ness, bright forms of beauty grew up like flowers out of the 
 clear pure space ; and such symphonic music sounded as made 
 the rolling of planets in their orbits seem but the distant lesser 
 notes of the vast eternal melody ; and thus, clinging close to 
 the strong Hands that held his, and looking with wondering 
 grateful ecstasy into the Divine eyes that smiled their pardon 
 and eternal love upon him, Barabbas left his prison and went 
 forth, into the " glorious liberty of the free 1" 
 
 With the early dawn of the next day two men descended 
 together in haste to visit the dungeon. One was the gaoler 
 the other was the stranger Melchior. 
 
 "They shall not crucify Barabbas" said the latter re- 
 solvedly " I will be answerable for him, and myself defend 
 him at his trial." 
 
 " Thou speakest boldly !" returned the gaoler, eyeing him 
 dubiously " But though thou hast the Emperor's signet, and 
 Caiaphas hath given thee permit to see the prisoner, these 
 favours will not stay the progress of the law." 
 
 " Maybe not !" said Melchior impatiently " Nevertheless 
 the makers of the law in Jerusalem are corrupt ; and their 
 corruption shall be blazoned to the world if this lately par- 
 doned man be again made to suffer. What influence can be 
 obtained for him shall most assuredly be used. There is much 
 good in this Barabbas." 
 
 Here they reached the dungeon. Quickly unlocking the 
 door, the gaoler peered in. 
 
 " Barabbas I" 
 
 No answer was returned. 
 
 " Barabbas, come forth !" 
 
 Still silence. 
 
 "He sleeps soundly," said the gaoler, taking down a lan- 
 tern which hung on the outside wall for use and lighting it, 
 " We must needs go in and rouse him." 
 
 Lamp in hand he entered the dismal cell, Melchior following.
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 313 
 
 Barabbas lay on the ground, apparently sunk in a deep and 
 peaceful slumber ; his manacled hands were folded cross-wise 
 on his breast. Melchior stepped hurriedly forward and bent 
 down over him. 
 
 " Barabbas 1" 
 
 But Barabbas rested gravely mute. A flash from the 
 prison-lantern showed that a smile was on his face, and that 
 his dark and rugged features were smoothed and tranquillised 
 into an expression of exceeding beauty. There was something 
 grand and impressive in the aspect of his powerful figure lying 
 thus passive in an attitude of such complete repose, his 
 crossed hands and closed eyes suggested that eternal calm 
 wherein, as in a deep sea is found the pearl of Infinite Knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Melchior rose from his brief examination of the quiet form ; 
 a vague melancholy shadowed his face. 
 
 " We need argue no more concerning the fate of Barabbas 1" 
 he said in hushed accents " Neither signets of emperors nor 
 authority of priests can avail him now ! We come too late. 
 Whatever were his passions or crimes they are pardoned, 
 and a Higher Power than ours hath given him his liberty. 
 Carry him forth gently ; he is dead !" 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 ONE afternoon at sunset two travellers stood together, look- 
 ing their last on the white walls and enclosed gardens of Jeru- 
 salem. Silently absorbing the scene, they watched from a 
 little hill above the city, the red sky glow like a furnace over 
 the roofs and turrets, and flash fire upon the architectural 
 splendour of that "jewel of the earth" known as Solomon's 
 Temple. They could see the summit of Calvary, bare and 
 brown and deserted, and in the lower distance the thick green 
 foliage of Gethsemane. One of them, a man of singular 
 height and massive build, knelt on the turf, and fixed his eyes 
 with a passionate intensity on Calvary alone, there his looks 
 lingered with deep and wondering tenderness as though he 
 saw some beatific vision on that lonely point which shone with 
 a blood-red hue in the ardent flame of the descending sun. 
 o
 
 314 B ARABS AS 
 
 His companion, no other than Melchior, turned and saw him 
 thus entranced. 
 
 " Sorrowest thou, Simon," he said gently " to leave this 
 land which God hath visited ? Vex not thy soul, for God 
 is ever with thee ; and Calvary is not the wonder of Judaea, 
 but of the wider world from henceforth. Judaea hath rejected 
 the Divine, wherefore she herself shall be rejected." 
 
 Simon of Gyrene, for it was he, looked up. 
 
 " Yea, thou dost speak truly," he answered, " in this as in 
 other things. Nevertheless I can but remember how I bore the 
 Cross up yonder hill ! Words can never tell the sweetness of 
 the toil, the joy and glory that surrounded me I And greater 
 still the marvel of the raising of that Cross ! methought I 
 held Salvation ! Let me not speak of it, my soul doth reel 
 too near the verge of Heaven ! and once again I see His face 
 the face of God that smiled on me I" 
 
 Melchior did not speak for some minutes, his own eyes 
 were turned thoughtfully towards some scattered rocks on a 
 plain to the left of the city, which was sometimes called the 
 " Place of Tombs" on account of its numerous hewn-out sepul- 
 chres and burial-caves. 
 
 " Over there," he said presently, pointing thither " sleeps 
 Barabbas whom I told thee of, there where that solitary palm 
 nods its half- withered leaves. "Twas I who gave him burial, 
 no other living friend he seemed to have in all Jerusalem, de- 
 spite the rapture of the foolish crowd the day he was set free. 
 He was an untaught erring soul, yet not without some noble- 
 ness a type of human Doubt aspiring unto Truth ; methinks 
 out of this aspiration only, he hath found both peace and 
 pardon." 
 
 He was silent a little, then continued, 
 
 " Cyrenian, to thee was given the strength to bear the Cross, 
 and in thy task thou did'st obtain both faith and knowledge. 
 All men may not win such sweet and sudden happiness, for 
 humanity is weak, not strong. Humanity can rarely sacrifice 
 itself for God, and doth not willingly accept a burden not ita 
 own. Thou, who dost now resign thy home and kindred, thy 
 fertile valleys of Cyrene, thy free and thoughtless serving of 
 thyself, for the sake of serving the Divine, art wise before the 
 days of wisdom, and wilt perchance know swiftly and at once 
 what it will take this wild unspiritual world long centuries to 
 learn. The Messenger has come, and the Message has been 
 given, the Christ hath been slain and hath arisen from the
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 315 
 
 iead, as symbol of the truth that Good shall triumph over 
 Evil everlastingly, nevertheless it will be long ere the lesson 
 of Divine Perfection is understood by manT 5 
 
 Simon, rising from his kneeling attitude, looked wistfully and 
 with some curiosity at the speaker. 
 
 "Why should it be long?" he asked "Since thou so 
 speedily hast learned to recognise the Christ? Art thou 
 more skilled in mysteries than other men ?" 
 
 " If I should say so, 'twould be a boast unworthy" Melchior 
 answered slowly " And of the things occult I may not tell 
 thee. But this much thou shalt hear. In early youth I was 
 a king, . . . nay, man, wonder not ! kings are no marvel ! 
 The puppets of the nations merely, prisoned round with vain 
 trappings and idle shows, the very scorn of all who have ob- 
 tained a true and glorious independence ! I learned in my 
 brief kingship the worthlessness of sovereignty, the fickleness 
 of crowds, the instability of friends, the foolishness of earthly 
 power. When Christ was born in Bethlehem, a vision came 
 upon me in the midwatches of the night, and an Angel stood 
 before me saying ' Arise, Melchior 1 be thou the first mon- 
 arch in the world to resign monarchy ; for the time hath come 
 when crowns and kingdoms shall be utterly destroyed as ob- 
 stacles to the Brotherhood of Man. Get thee to Bethlehem 
 of Judaea, there shalt thou find the new-born God, the Prince 
 of Peace, who will unite in one all nations, and link Humanity 
 to Heaven by the splendour of His Everlasting Name !" 
 
 He paused enrapt, Simon of Cyrene watched him awed and 
 fascinated. 
 
 "The Angel vanished" he continued " And I arose 
 straightway and went, and stayed not on my journey till I 
 came to Bethlehem ; there did I lay my crown before the Child 
 of Mary, and swear to Him my faith/' I have followed Him 
 from the cradle to the Cross ; I follow Him now from the rent 
 sepulchre of Earth to the unbarre.d gate of Heaven !'} 
 
 " And I with thee 1" exclaimed "Simon with eager fervour, 
 " Lo, I am humble as a child and I will learn of thee all 
 that I should do 1" 
 
 " Nay, I can teach thee nothing" said Melchior gently 
 " Thou hast borne the Cross thou hast lifted the Christ, the 
 rest will be granted thee." 
 
 He looked once more over the city which now seemed to 
 float like a glittering mirage in the circling glory of the after- 
 glow : the sun had sunk.
 
 316 B ARABS AS 
 
 " 'If thou Tiad'st known, even in this thy day 1 " he quoted 
 dreamily " Alas, alas ! What of those who wilfully prefer 
 ignorance to knowledge !" 
 
 " Speakest thou of the misguided who have scorned and re- 
 jected the Divine?" asked Simon "Surely ere long they all 
 will be convinced, yea, even Caiaphas" 
 
 " Thou simple soul ! thinkest thou that a liar can ever be 
 convinced of truth ? Nay 'tis a miracle past all working ! 
 Through Caiaphas the stain of treachery will rest on the dead 
 Judas ; through Caiaphas will be denied the Resurrection, 
 through Caiaphas the very name of Christ will be banished 
 from the Jewish annals. Bear thou this in mind, that a so- 
 called Priest of God did crucify God's Messenger. 'Twill help 
 thee to more clearly read the future ' 
 
 " Knowest thou," said Simon suddenly " that Peter hath 
 returned from Bethany and boldly preacheth Christ crucified 
 and risen ?" 
 
 " Ay, doth he preach ?" queried Melchior, with satiric melan- 
 choly " And hath he grown so sudden bold ? Even so doth 
 he make late atonement ! He hath a wondrous destiny for 
 half the world will grasp the creed devised by him who did 
 deny his Master." 
 
 Sighing, he turned away from the city view. 
 
 " 'Tis God's symbolic teaching," he said, " which few of us 
 may understand. A language unlettered and vast as eternity 
 itself! Upon that hill of Calvary to which thou, Simon, turnest 
 thy parting looks of tenderness, hath been mystically enacted 
 the world's one tragedy the tragedy of Love and Genius, 
 slain to satisfy the malice of mankind. But Love and Genius 
 are immortal, and immortality must evermore arise ; wherefore 
 in the dark days that are coming let us not lose our courage or 
 our hope. There will be many forms of faith, and many 
 human creeds in which there is no touch of the Divine, keep 
 we to the faithful following of Christ, and in the midst of many 
 bewilderments we shall not wander far astray. The hour grows 
 late, come, thou first hermit of the Christian world ! let us 
 go on together !" 
 
 They descended the hill. Across the plains they passed 
 slowly ; taking the way that led towards the mystic laud of 
 Egypt, where the Pyramids lift their summits to the stars, and 
 the Nile murmurs of the false gods forgotten. They walked 
 in a path of roseate radiance left by a reflection of the vanished 
 sun ; and went onward steadily, never once looking back, till
 
 A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY 317 
 
 their figures gradually diminished and disappeared. Swiftly 
 the night gathered, and spread itself darkly over Jerusalem 
 like a threatening shadow of storm and swift destruction ; 
 thunder was in the air, and only one pale star peered dimly 
 forth in the dusk, shining placidly over the Place of Tombs, 
 where, in his quiet burial -cave, Barabbas slept beside the with, 
 ering palm. 
 
 THF 1ND.
 
 By Marie Corelli. 
 
 Cameos. 
 
 Ten Short Stories. I2mo. Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 The surprising versatility of Marie Corelli has never been better displayed than 
 in this varied group of short stories which run the whole gamut of feeling, senti- 
 ment, and purpose known to contemporary fiction. Appearing as they do almost 
 simultaneously with " The Sorrows of Satan," that wonderful romance of nine- 
 teenth-century life which is the theme of the day, alike in England and America, 
 they serve to mark the tenderness, the love of human sentiment, and the sympathy 
 for human suffering which are naturally less emphasized in the more powerful and 
 .ted novel. 
 
 The Sorrows of Satan ; 
 
 Or, The Strange Experience of one Geoffrey Tempest, 
 
 Millionaire. 
 A Romance. With frontispiece by Van Schaick. I2mo. Cloth, #1.50. 
 
 " There is very little in common between this story and ' Barabbas.' In ' The 
 Sorrows of Satan' Miss Corelli wields a much more vigorous pen. She is full of her 
 purpose. Dear me, how she scathes English society ! She exposes the low life of 
 high life with a ruthless pen. The sins of the fashionable world made even Satan 
 sad ; they were more than he could bear, poor man ! The book is lively reading, 
 and will be read in England with an eager curiosity." CAieafo Tribune. 
 
 Barabbas. 
 
 A Dream of the World's Tragedy. 
 
 I2mo. Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "A book which aroused hi some quarters more violent hostility than any book 
 of recent years. By most secular critics the authoress was accused of bad taste, 
 bad art, and gross blasphemy; but, in curious contrast, most religious papers 
 acknowledged the reverence of treatment and the dignity of conception which 
 characterized the work." Lfndon Athentzum. 
 
 Vendetta ; 
 
 Or, The Story of One Forgotten. 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " It is a thrilling and irresistibly charming book." Baltimore American. 
 
 " The story is Italian, the time 1884, and the precise stage of the acts, Naples, 
 
 during the last visitation of the cholera. A romance, but a romance of reality. No 
 
 mind of man can imagine incidents so wonderful, so amazing as those of actual 
 
 occurrence. While the story is exciting, and must be read through when once 
 
 egun, it furnishes a vivid and impr " 
 
 ashington National Republican. 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA.
 
 By Captain Charles King, U.S.A. 
 
 Under Fire, illustrated. The Colonel's Daughter, illustrated 
 Marion's Faith, illustrated. Captain Blake, illustrated. 
 
 Foes in Ambush. (Paper, 50 cents.) 
 
 I2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 Waring's Peril. Trials of a Staff Officer. 
 
 I2I710. Cloth, Jl.OO. 
 
 Kitty's Conquest. 
 
 Starlight Ranch, and Other Stories. 
 Laramie; or, The Queen of Bedlam. 
 The Deserter, and From the Ranks. 
 Two Soldiers, and Dunraven Ranch. 
 
 A Soldier's Secret, and An Army Portia. 
 Captain Close, and Sergeant Croesus. 
 
 I2mo. Cloth, J i. oo ; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 EDITOR OF 
 
 The Colonel's Christmas Dinner, and Other Stories. 
 
 izmo. Cloth, fx. 25; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 An Initial Experience, and Other Stories. 
 
 121110. Cloth, fi. oo ; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 Captain Dreams, and Other Stories. 
 
 iznio. Cloth, (i.oo; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 " From the lowest soldier to the highest officer, from the servant to the master, 
 there is not a character in any of Captain King's novels that is not wholly in keep- 
 ing with expressed sentiments. There is not a movement made on the field, not a 
 break from the ranks, not an offence against the military code of discipline, and 
 hardly a heart-beat that escapes his watchfulness." Boston Herald. 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA.
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 AUG27 194* 
 
 U L R D L MAY 10198, 
 
 Ktiri) ID-URt 
 
 APR1 7 1985 
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 *VA * 
 
 Form L9-25m-9,'47(A5618)444 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
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 LOS ANGELES
 
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 Barabbas 
 
 
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