e of them, the book unrolled in his hand, advanced and read:

" 'Ye shall keep the Sabbath holy. Whoso does any work thereon shall be
cut off from his people.'

" 'And what of blasphemy?'

"The Scribe glanced at the roll and repeated from memory: 'He that
blasphemeth the name of the Lord shall be put to death. The congregation
shall stone him, as well the stranger as he that was born in the land.'

"Caiaphas closed the fingers on the palm of his left hand, and, raising
it, turned again to the elders. '_Ish maveth_,' they repeated, closing
their fingers as he had done.

"I knew then that he was condemned. After all"--and Eleazer looked wearily
to the ground--"it was legal enough. Each moment I expected him to give
some sign, but, save to affirm the charge of blasphemy, during the entire
time he kept silent. Yes, it was legal enough. From where I stood I heard
the Scribes say that he would be sentenced at sunrise, and then Pilate
would have a word with him. I could do nothing. Caiaphas still fumed. I
went out in the court again. In the corridor was Judas. Peter was
wrangling with the servants. I did not wait for more. I got away and into
the valley and up again on the hill. A cock was crowing, and I saw the
dawn. O Mary, the pity of it!"

He looked at his sister. There was no weakness now in her face, nor beauty
either. Age must have passed her in the night.

"And I will have a word with Pilate too," she said.

As a somnambulist might, she drew her mantle closer, and, moving to the
wayside, ascended the hill. The silver and green of the olives closed
around her, and with them the branching dates. Above, a star left by the
morning glimmered feebly. In a myrtle a bird began to sing, and a lizard
that had come out to intercept the sun scurried as she passed. Upward and
onward still she went, and, the summit reached, for a moment she stopped
and rested.

To the east the Dead Sea lay, a stretch of silk. At its edge was the
flutter of ospreys feasting on the barbels and breams of the Jordan, which
as they enter, die. Beyond was a glitter of white and gold, the scarp of
Moriah and its breast of stone, the Tyrian bevel of Solomon, the porphyry
of Nehemiah, the marble that Herod gave; ascending terraces, engulfing
porticoes, the splendor of Jerusalem at dawn. Between the houses nearest
was the dimness that shadows cast; those further away had a scatter of
pink; about it all was a wall surmounted by turrets; beneath was a