“But surely they love Him?  You yourself said so.”

“People always love their teacher, but better dead than alive.  While a teacher’s alive he may ask them questions which they will find difficult to answer.  But, when a teacher dies, they become teachers themselves, and then others fare badly in turn.  Ha! ha!”

Annas looked piercingly at the Traitor, and his lips puckered—­which indicated that he was smiling.

“You have been insulted by them.  I can see that.”

“Can one hide anything from the perspicacity of the astute Annas? 
You have pierced to the very heart of Judas.  Yes, they insulted poor
Judas.  They said he had stolen from them three denarii—­as though
Judas were not the most honest man in Israel!”

They talked for some time longer about Jesus, and His disciples, and of His pernicious influence on the people of Israel, but on this occasion the crafty, cautious Annas gave no decisive answer.  He had long had his eyes on Jesus, and in secret conclave with his own relatives and friends, with the authorities, and the Sadducees, had decided the fate of the Prophet of Galilee.  But he did not trust Judas, who he had heard was a bad, untruthful man, and he had no confidence in his flippant faith in the cowardice of the disciples, and of the people.  Annas believed in his own power, but he feared bloodshed, feared a serious riot, such as the insubordinate, irascible people of Jerusalem lent itself to so easily; he feared, in fact, the violent intervention of the Roman authorities.  Fanned by opposition, fertilised by the red blood of the people, which vivifies everything on which it falls, the heresy would grow stronger, and stifle in its folds Annas, the government, and all his friends.  So, when Iscariot knocked at his door a second time Annas was perturbed in spirit and would not admit him.  But yet a third and a fourth time Iscariot came to him, persistent as the wind, which beats day and night against the closed door and blows in through its crevices.

“I see that the most astute Annas is afraid of something,” said Judas when at last he obtained admission to the high priest.

“I am strong enough not to fear anything,” Annas answered haughtily.  And Iscariot stretched forth his hands and bowed abjectly.

“What do you want?”

“I wish to betray the Nazarene to you.”

“We do not want Him.”

Judas bowed and waited, humbly fixing his gaze on the high priest.

“Go away.”

“But I am bound to return.  Am I not, revered Annas?”

“You will not be admitted.  Go away!”

But yet again and again Judas called on the aged Annas, and at last was admitted.

Dry and malicious, worried with thought, and silent, he gazed on the Traitor, and, as it were, counted the hairs on his knotted head.  Judas also said nothing, and seemed in his turn to be counting the somewhat sparse grey hairs in the beard of the high priest.