indeed! That requires proof."

Letting his hands fall, Thomas asked in surprise:

"But did not you betray the Master? I myself saw you bring the soldiers,
and point Him out to them. If this is not treachery, I should like to
know what is!"

"Never mind that," hurriedly said Judas. "Listen, there are many of you
here. You must all gather together, and loudly demand: 'Give up Jesus.
He is ours!' They will not refuse you, they dare not. They themselves
will understand."

"What do you mean! What are you thinking of!" said Thomas, with a
decisive wave of his hands. "Have you not seen what a number of armed
soldiers and servants of the Temple there are here? Moreover, the trial
has not yet taken place, and we must not interfere with the court.
Surely he understands that Jesus is innocent, and will order His release
without delay."

"You, then, think so too," said Judas thoughtfully. "Thomas, Thomas,
what if it be the truth? What then? Who is right? Who has deceived
Judas?"

"We were all talking last night, and came to the conclusion that the
court cannot condemn the innocent. But if it does, why then--"

"What then!"

"Why, then it is no court. And it will be the worse for them when they
have to give an account before the real Judge."

"Before the real! Is there any 'real' left?" sneered Judas.

"And all of our party cursed you; but since you say that you were not
the traitor, I think you ought to be tried."

Judas did not want to hear him out; but turned right about, and hurried
down the street in the wake of the retreating crowd. He soon, however,
slackened his pace, mindful of the fact that a crowd always travels
slowly, and that a single pedestrian will inevitably overtake it.

When Pilate led Jesus out from his palace, and set Him before the
people, Judas, crushed against a column by the heavy backs of the
soldiers, furiously turning his head about to see something between two
shining helmets, suddenly felt clearly that the worst was over. He saw
Jesus in the sunshine, high above the heads of the crowd, blood-stained,
pale with a crown of thorns, the sharp spikes of which pressed into His
forehead.

He stood on the edge of an elevation, visible from His head to His
small, sunburnt feet, and waited so calmly, was so serene in His
immaculate purity, that only a blind man, who perceived not the very
sun, could fail to see, only a madman would not understand. And the
people held their peace--it was so still,