“Simon, are you sleeping?”

And he slept again, and again some soft voice reached his ear and died away without leaving any trace.

“You could not watch with me even one hour?”

“Oh, Master! if you only knew how sleepy I am,” he thought in his slumber, but it seemed to him that he said it aloud.  And he slept again.  And a long time seemed to have passed, when suddenly the figure of Jesus appeared near him, and a loud, rousing voice instantly awakened him and the others: 

“You are still sleeping and resting?  It is ended, the hour has come—­ the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of the sinners.”

The disciples quickly sprang to their feet, confusedly seizing their cloaks and trembling from the cold of the sudden awakening.  Through the thicket of the trees a multitude of warriors and temple servants was seen approaching noisily, illumining their way with torches.  And from the other side the disciples came running, quivering from cold, their sleepy faces frightened; and not yet understanding what was going on, they asked hastily: 

“What is it?  Who are these people with torches?”

Thomas, pale faced, his moustaches in disorder, his teeth chattering from chilliness, said to Peter: 

“They have evidently come after us.”

Now a multitude of warriors surrounded them, and the smoky, quivering light of the torches dispelled the soft light of the moon.  In front of the warriors walked Judas Iscariot quickly, and sharply turning his quick eye, searched for Jesus.  He found Him, rested his look for an instant upon His tall, slender figure, and quickly whispered to the priests: 

“Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is He.  Take Him and lead Him cautiously.  Lead Him cautiously, do you hear?”

Then he moved quickly to Jesus, who waited for him in silence, and he directed his straight, sharp look, like a knife, into His calm, darkened eyes.

“Hail, Master!” he said loudly, charging his words of usual greeting with a strange and stern meaning.

But Jesus was silent, and the disciples looked at the traitor with horror, not understanding how the soul of a man could contain so much evil.  Iscariot threw a rapid glance at their confused ranks, noticed their quiver, which was about to turn into a loud, trembling fear, noticed their pallor, their senseless smiles, the drowsy movements of their hands, which seemed as though fettered in iron at the shoulders —­and a mortal sorrow began to burn in his heart, akin to the sorrow Christ had experienced before.  Outstretching himself into a hundred ringing, sobbing strings, he rushed over to Jesus and kissed His cold cheek tenderly.  He kissed it so softly, so tenderly, with such painful love and sorrow, that if Jesus had been a flower upon a thin stalk it would not have shaken from this kiss and would not have dropped the pearly dew from its pure petals.