, and whatsoever is yet left for me to suffer,
I will, by God's help, so bear it as to be not unworthy of Christ's
mercy."

The rabbis gazed at the brave young face, and smiled and wagged their
beards, talking one with another in low tones.

"It is as we feared," they said. "He is unrepentant and he is worthy of
death. It is not expedient that the young adder should live. There
is poison under his tongue, and he speaks things not lawful for an
Israelite to hear. Let him die, that we may see him no more, and that
our children be not corrupted by his false teachings."

"Hearest thou? Thou shalt die." It was Lazarus who spoke, while holding
up the boy before the table and hissing the words into his ear.

"I hear. I am ready. Lead me forth."

"There is yet time to repent. If thou wilt but deny what thou hast said
these many days, and return to us, thou shalt be forgiven and thy days
shall be long among us, and thy children's days after thee, and the Lord
shall perchance have mercy and increase thy goods among thy fellows."

"Let him alone," said the rabbis. "He is unrepentant."

"Lead me forth," said Simon Abeles.

"Lead him forth," repeated the rabbis. "Perchance, when he sees the
manner of his death before his eyes, he will repent at the last."

The boy's fearless eyes looked from one to the other.

"Whatsoever it be," he said, "I have but one life. Take it as you
will. I die in the faith of the Lord Jesus Christ, and into His hands I
commend my spirit--which you cannot take."

"Lead him forth! Let him be crucified!" cried the rabbis together. "We
will hear him no longer."

Then Lazarus led his son away from them, and left them talking together
and shaking their heads and wagging their filthy beards. And in the
vision the scene changed. The chamber with its flickering lamp and its
black table and all the men who were in it grew dim and faded away, and
in its place there was a dim inner court between high houses, upon which
only the windows of the house of Lazarus opened. There, upon the ground,
stood a lantern of horn, and the soft yellow light of it fell upon two
pieces of wood, nailed one upon the other to form a small cross--small,
indeed, but yet tall enough and broad enough and strong enough to bear
the slight burden of the boy's frail body. And beside it stood Lazarus
and Levi, the Short-handed, the strong rabbi, holding Simon Abeles
between them. On the ground lay pieces of cord, ready, wherewith to bi