tomb. And then she had a wondrous
dream!

CHAPTER LI. THE CALVARY.

This was the vision of Herodias: On the summit of a high, steep, rocky
mountain, there stands a cross. The sun is sinking, even as when the
Jewess herself, worn out with fatigue, entered the ruins of St. John's
Abbey. The great figure on the cross--which looks down from this
Calvary, on the mountain, and on the vast, dreary plain beyond--stands
out white and pale against the dark, blue clouds, which stretch across
the heavens, and assume a violent tint towards the horizon. There, where
the setting sun has left a long track of lurid light, almost of the
hue of blood--as far as the eye can reach, no vegetation appears on the
surface of the gloomy desert, covered with sand and stones, like the
ancient bed of some dried-up ocean. A silence as of death broods over
this desolate tract. Sometimes, gigantic black vultures, with red
unfeathered necks, luminous yellow eyes, stooping from their lofty
flight in the midst of these solitudes, come to make their bloody feast
on the prey they have carried off from less uncultivated regions.

How, then, did this Calvary, this place of prayer, come to be erected so
far from the abodes of men? This Calvary was prepared at a great cost by
a repentant sinner. He had done much harm to his fellow-creatures, and,
in the hope of obtaining pardon for his crimes, he had climbed this
mountain on his knees, and become a hermit, and lived there till his
death, at the foot of this cross, only sheltered by a roof of thatch,
now long since swept away by the wind. The sun is still sinking. The
sky becomes darker. The luminous lines on the horizon grow fainter and
fainter, like heated bars of iron that gradually grow cool. Suddenly,
on the eastern side of the Calvary, is heard the noise of some falling
stones, which, loosened from the side of the mountain, roll down
rebounding to its base. These stones have been loosened by the foot of
a traveller, who, after traversing the plain below, has, during the last
hour, been climbing the steep ascent. He is not yet visible--but one
hears the echo of his tread--slow, steady, and firm. At length, he
reaches the top of the mountain, and his tall figure stands out against
the stormy sky.

The traveller is pale as the great figure on the cross. On his broad
forehead a black line extends from one temple to the other. It is
the cobbler of Jerusalem. The poor artisan, who hardened by misery,