ble."

And with such a truly satanic joy did that wild face blaze, that, with a
cry, Pilate kicked him away, and Judas fell backwards. And there he lay
upon the stone flags like an overthrown demon, still stretching out his
hand to the departing Pilate, and crying as one passionately enamoured:

"O wise, O wise and noble...."

Then he gathered himself up with agility, and ran away followed by the
laughter of the soldiery. Evidently there was yet hope. When they come
to see the cross, and the nails, then they will understand, and then....
What then? He catches sight of the panic-stricken Thomas in passing, and
for some reason or other reassuringly nods to him; he overtakes Jesus
being led to execution. The walking is difficult, small stones roll
under the feet, and suddenly Judas feels that he is tired. He gives
himself up wholly to the trouble of deciding where best to plant his
feet, he looks dully around, and sees Mary Magdalene weeping, and a
number of women weeping--hair dishevelled, eyes red, lips distorted--all
the excessive grief of a tender woman's soul when submitted to outrage.
Suddenly he revives, and seizing the moment, runs up to Jesus:

"I go with Thee," he hurriedly whispers.

The soldiers drive him away with blows of their whips, and squirming
so as to avoid the blows, and showing his teeth at the soldiers, he
explains hurriedly:

"I go with Thee. Thither. Thou understandest whither."

He wipes the blood from his face, shakes his fist at one of the
soldiers, who turns round and smiles, and points him out to the others.
Then he looks for Thomas, but neither he nor any of the disciples are in
the crowd that accompanies Jesus. Again he is conscious of fatigue, and
drags one foot with difficulty after the other, as he attentively looks
out for the sharp, white, scattered pebbles.

When the hammer was uplifted to nail Jesus' left hand to the tree, Judas
closed his eyes, and for a whole age neither breathed, nor saw, nor
lived, but only listened.

But lo! with a grating sound, iron strikes against iron, time after
time, dull, short blows, and then the sharp nail penetrating the soft
wood and separating its particles is distinctly heard.

One hand. It is not yet too late!

The other hand. It is not yet too late!

A foot, the other foot! Is all lost?

He irresolutely opens his eyes, and sees how the cross is raised, and
rocks, and is set fast in the trench. He sees how the hands of Jesus are
conv