once for the exit with impetuous speed.[4] And now nothing
stood in his way: he got past the maid and her companions without
trouble. For, indeed, the trap of temptation is only an illusion. To
a resolute man it presents no obstacles.

But further, the look of Christ was a mirror in which Peter saw
himself. He saw what Christ thought of him. The past came rushing
back. He was the man who, in a great and never-to-be-forgotten moment,
had confessed Christ and earned His hearty recognition. He was the man
who, a few hours ago, had vowed, above all the rest, that he never
would deny his Master. And now he had deserted Him and wounded Him to
the heart in His utmost need. He had placed himself among His enemies
as one of themselves and, with oaths and curses, trodden His sacred
name beneath his feet. He had put off the disciple and reverted to the
rudeness of his godless youth. He was a perjured traitor. All this
was in that look of Christ.

But there was far more in it. It was a rescuing look. If any friend
had met Peter rushing out from the scene of his sin, he might well have
been terrified for what might happen. Where was he rushing to? Was it
to the precipice over which Judas plunged not many hours afterwards?
Peter was not very far from that. Had it been an angry look he saw on
Christ's face when their eyes met, this might have been his fate. But
there was not a spark of anger in it. There was pain, no doubt, and
there was immeasurable disappointment. But deeper than these--rising
up from below them and submerging them--there was the Saviour's
instinct, that instinct which made Him reach out His hand and grasp
Peter when he was sinking in the sea. With this same instinct He
grasped Him now.

In that look of an instant Peter saw forgiveness and unutterable love.
If he saw himself in it, he saw still more his Saviour--such a
revelation of the heart of Christ as he had never yet known. He saw
now what kind of Master he had denied; and it broke his heart. It is
this that always breaks the heart. It is not our sin that makes us
weep; it is when we see what kind of Saviour we have sinned against.
He wept bitterly; not to wash out his sin, but because even already he
knew it had been washed out. The former weeping is a pelting shower;
this is the close, prolonged downpour, which penetrates deep and
fertilises the plants of the soul at their very roots.

Indeed, this was the real beginning of all th