s no friend of ours, this foxy-haired Judas Iscariot,"
the bad would say, thereby surprising the good people, in whose opinion
there was not much difference between him and all other vicious people
in Judaea. They would recount further that he had long ago deserted his
wife, who was living in poverty and misery, striving to eke out a living
from the unfruitful patch of land which constituted his estate. He had
wandered for many years aimlessly among the people, and had even gone
from one sea to the other,--no mean distance,--and everywhere he lied
and grimaced, and would make some discovery with his thievish eye, and
then suddenly disappear, leaving behind him animosity and strife. Yes,
he was as inquisitive, artful and hateful as a one-eyed demon. Children
he had none, and this was an additional proof that Judas was a wicked
man, that God would not have from him any posterity.

None of the disciples had noticed when it was that this ugly,
foxy-haired Jew first appeared in the company of Christ: but he had for
a long time haunted their path, joined in their conversations, performed
little acts of service, bowing and smiling and currying favour.
Sometimes they became quite used to him, so that he escaped their weary
eyes; then again he would suddenly obtrude himself on eye and
ear, irritating them as something abnormally ugly, treacherous and
disgusting. They would drive him away with harsh words, and for a
short time he would disappear, only to reappear suddenly, officious,
flattering and crafty as a one-eyed demon.

There was no doubt in the minds of some of the disciples that under
his desire to draw near to Jesus was hidden some secret intention--some
malign and cunning scheme.

But Jesus did not listen to their advice; their prophetic voice did
not reach His ears. In that spirit of serene contradiction, which
ever irresistibly inclined Him to the reprobate and unlovable, He
deliberately accepted Judas, and included him in the circle of the
chosen. The disciples were disturbed and murmured under their breath,
but He would sit still, with His face towards the setting sun, and
listen abstractedly, perhaps to them, perhaps to something else. For ten
days there had been no wind, and the transparent atmosphere, wary and
sensitive, continued ever the same, motionless and unchanged. It seemed
as though it preserved in its transparent depths every cry and song
made during those days by men and beasts and birds--tears, lame