“Does Judas wish to become a prophet?  He speaks so loud!” mockingly remarks he of the bird-like face, with an ingratiating glance at Caiaphas.

“To-day I saw a pale sun.  It was looking at the earth, and saying:  ‘Where is the Man?’ To-day I saw a scorpion.  It was sitting upon a stone and laughingly said:  ‘Where is the Man?’ I went near and looked into its eyes.  And it laughed and said:  ’Where is the Man?  I do not see Him!’ Where is the Man?  I ask you, I do not see Him—­ or is Judas become blind, poor Judas Iscariot!”

And Iscariot begins to weep aloud.

He was, during those moments, like a man out of his mind, and Caiaphas turned away, making a contemptuous gesture with his hand.  But Annas considered for a time, and then said: 

“I perceive, Judas, that you really have received but little, and that disturbs you.  Here is some more money; take it and give it to your children.”

He threw something, which rang shrilly.  The sound had not died away, before another, like it, strangely prolonged the clinking.

Judas had hastily flung the pieces of silver and the oboles into the faces of the high priest and of the judges, returning the price paid for Jesus.  The pieces of money flew in a curved shower, falling on their faces, and on the table, and rolling about the floor.

Some of the judges closed their hands with the palms outwards; others leapt from their places, and shouted and scolded.  Judas, trying to hit Annas, threw the last coin, after which his trembling hand had long been fumbling in his wallet, spat in anger, and went out.

“Well, well,” he mumbled, as he passed swiftly through the streets, scaring the children.  “It seems that thou didst weep, Judas?  Was Caiaphas really right when he said that Judas Iscariot was a fool?  He who weeps in the day of his great revenge is not worthy of it—­ know’st thou that, Judas?  Let not thine eyes deceive thee; let not thine heart lie to thee; flood not the fire with tears, Judas Iscariot!”

The disciples were sitting in mournful silence, listening to what was going on without.  There was still danger that the vengeance of Jesus’ enemies might not confine itself to Him, and so they were all expecting a visit from the guard, and perhaps more executions.  Near to John, to whom, as the beloved disciple, the death of Jesus was especially grievous, sat Mary Magdalene, and Matthew trying to comfort him in an undertone.  Mary, whose face was swollen with weeping, softly stroked his luxurious curling hair with her hand, while Matthew said didactically, in the words of Solomon: 

“’The long suffering is better than a hero; and he that ruleth his own spirit than one who taketh a city.’”

At this moment Judas knocked loudly at the door, and entered.  All started up in terror, and at first were not sure who it was; but when they recognised the hated countenance, the red-haired, bulbous head, they uttered a simultaneous cry.