sackcloth; some others, on the contrary, wore robes and turbans of
precious stuff, but faded; bracelets, ear-rings and necklaces in copper,
ornamented with false stones; their cheeks were covered with a brilliant
paint; their haggard and sorrowful countenance, and a stamp of
bitterness, which revealed itself even in their noisy and intemperate
joy, told quite enough of the miseries, the anguish, and the shame of
their sad life as courtezans.

Amongst the men, some appeared dispirited by poverty, others had a bold
and audacious air; several wore rusty weapons at their girdle, or leant
upon their long sticks terminated by a ball of iron; elsewhere might be
recognized by their iron collar and shaven head, the domestic slaves
belonging to Roman officers; further on, the infirm, in rags, were
seated on the ground in crutches.

Mothers held in their arms their infant children, pale and thin, whom
they hugged with a regard tenderly anxious, no doubt also awaiting the
arrival of the young Nazarene, so skilled in the healing art.

Genevieve, from some words exchanged between two men well dressed, but
of harsh and disagreeable features, guessed that they were the secret
emissaries whom the high priests and doctors of the law made use of to
note the words of the Nazarene, and draw him into a snare of an
imprudent confidence.

Jane, more bold than her friend, had made a passage for her through the
crowd; seeing a table unoccupied, placed in the shade and behind one of
the pillars of the galleries, the wife of the Seigneur Chusa seated
herself at it with Aurelia, and demanded a jug of beer from one of the
girls of the tavern, whilst Genevieve, standing by the side of her
mistress, did not lose sight of the two emissaries of the pharisees, and
greedily listened to all that was said round about her.

'The night advances,' said a young and handsome woman mournfully to one
of her companions seated at a table before her, and whose cheeks were
like her own, covered with paint, as was customary with courtezans.'

'Jesus of Nazareth will not come here to-night.'

''Twas scarcely worth while to come here; we could have taken a walk in
the neighborhood of the Pool: and there some Roman officer, half drunk,
or some doctor of law, hugging the walls, his nose in his cloak, would
have given us a supper. You must not complain, Oliba, if we go to our
couch supperless: 'twas your wish.'

'That sort of bread seems to me now so bitter, that