“Of whom are you speaking?”

“How, then, would it be with Judas Iscariot?  Then I should be obliged to strangle Him in order to do right.  Who is deceiving Judas?  You or he himself?  Who is deceiving Judas?  Who?”

“I don’t understand you, Judas.  You speak very unintelligently.  ‘Who is deceiving Jesus?’ ‘Who is right?’”

And Judas nodded his head and repeated like an echo: 

“Who is deceiving Judas?  Who?”

And the next day, in the way in which Judas raised his hand with thumb bent back,[1] and by the way in which he looked at Thomas, the same strange question was implied: 

“Who is deceiving Judas?  Who is right?”

[1] Does our author refer to the Roman sign of disapprobation, vertere, or convertere, pollicem?—­Tr.

And still more surprised, and even alarmed, was Thomas, when suddenly in the night he heard the loud, apparently glad voice of Judas: 

“Then Judas Iscariot will be no more.  Then Jesus will be no more.  Then there will be Thomas, the stupid Thomas!  Did you ever wish to take the earth and lift it?  And then, possibly hurl it away?”

“That’s impossible.  What are you talking about, Judas?”

“It’s quite possible,” said Iscariot with conviction, “and we will lift it up some day when you are asleep, stupid Thomas.  Go to sleep.  I’m enjoying myself.  When you sleep your nose plays the Galilean pipe.  Sleep!”

But now the believers were already dispersed about Jerusalem, hiding in houses and behind walls, and the faces of those that met them looked mysterious.  The exultation had died down.  Confused reports of danger found their way in; Peter, with gloomy countenance, tested the sword given to him by Judas, and the face of the Master became even more melancholy and stern.  So swiftly the time passed, and inevitably approached the terrible day of the Betrayal.  Lo! the Last Supper was over, full of grief and confused dread, and already had the obscure words of Jesus sounded concerning some one who should betray Him.

“You know who will betray Him?” asked Thomas, looking at Judas with his straight-forward, clear, almost transparent eyes.

“Yes, I know,” Judas replied harshly and decidedly.  “You, Thomas, will betray Him.  But He Himself does not believe what He says!  It is full time!  Why does He not call to Him the strong, magnificent Judas?”

No longer by days, but by short, fleeting hours, was the inevitable time to be measured.  It was evening; and evening stillness and long shadows lay upon the ground—­the first sharp darts of the coming night of mighty contest—­when a harsh, sorrowful voice was heard.  It said: 

“Dost Thou know whither I go, Lord?  I go to betray Thee into the hands of Thine enemies.”

And there was a long silence, evening stillness, and swift black shadows.

“Thou art silent, Lord?  Thou commandest me to go?”