ey were always swearing, he whom they called their friend!'

'Let them finish with the brawler! Let him be crucified, and we shall
hear no more of him!'

'Yes, yes, death to the Nazarene!' cried the people, amongst whom was
Genevieve. And this assemblage still increasing, repeated, with greater
fury, those fatal cries:

'Death to the Nazarene!'

'Alas!' said the slave to herself, 'is there a more horrible fate than
that of this young man; abandoned by the poor, whom he befriended; hated
by the rich, to whom he preached humility and charity! How deep must be
the bitterness of his heart!'

The soldiers, followed by the crowd, had arrived opposite the house of
Pilate.

Several high priests, doctors of law, senators, and other pharisees,
among whom were Caiphus, Doctor Baruch, and the banker Jonas, had joined
the troop and walked at its head. One of these pharisees having cried:

'Seigneurs, let us enter Pontius Pilate's that he may instantly condemn
the cursed Nazarene to death!'

Caiphus replied with a pious air:

'My seigneurs, we cannot enter the house of a heathen: this stain would
prevent our eating the passover to-day.'

'No!' added Doctor Baruch, 'we cannot commit this abominable impiety.'

'Only hear them!' said to the crowd one of the emissaries, with an
accent of admiration.

'Do you hear the holy men? What respect they profess for the commandment
of our holy religion! Ah! these are not like that impious Nazarene, who
rails and blasphemes at the most sacred things, when he dares to declare
that we need not observe the Sabbath!'

'Oh! the infamous hypocrites!' said Genevieve to herself: 'how well
Jesus knew them; how much reason he had to unmask them. They now
hesitate to enter the house of a heathen, for fear of soiling their
sandals; but they do not fear to soil their soul by demanding from this
heathen to shed the blood of the righteous, one of their compatriots.
Ah! poor youth of Nazareth! they will make you pay with your life for
the courage you have shown in attacking these rich swindlers.'

The officer of the militia having entered the palace of Pontius Pilate,
whilst the escort remained outside guarding the prisoner, Genevieve
mounted behind a cart stopped by the crowd, and endeavored to keep in
sight the young man of Nazareth. She saw him standing in the midst of
the soldiers, his long chestnut hair falling over his shoulders, his
looks still calm and gentle, and a smile of resignation on