mmoned they him to judge the Jew. And, oh, my eunuch--my
eunuch--that Jew is him whom thy soul loveth--him whose disciple thou art
to be!"

"Jesus of Nazareth?" the eunuch cried sharply.

"Yea, yea--the Jew!"

The eunuch raised his face toward heaven and lifting high his hands said
in the voice of one imploring, "God of the Jew, God of the Jew, hear and
deliver him from the hand of Rome."

"Hear thou the dream," said Claudia, stepping close to him. "At the
turning of the dawn came it to me. The shout of battle! The screams of
those pierced by spears! The groans of those trodden under the hoofs of
mad chargers! The curses of those tortured! And above the din did I
hear children's voices calling, 'Help--help!' and the voices of women
calling, 'Help! Help! In God's name, 'help!' and the voices of men
shouting, 'Help! Help! 'Cometh no help!' And no help came save the
Angel of Desolation with sweeping black wings! And, oh, my eunuch! Out
of the darkness and the desolation, I saw the hands of Pilate rising
scarlet with wet blood and over against them the pale face of the Jew!"

Before she had finished speaking with the eunuch, Claudia's cries for
help had drawn the household, and soldiers and servants crowded into the
room and filled the passageway as she brought fear and trembling to them
by her dramatic recital of her tragic dream.

"It is a dream--a dream! But in that dream, between my vision and the
darkness, passeth a purple robe, a crown of thorns, a lonely cross on a
far hillside, a white face drawn in agony and parched lips moving as to
moan! Then again the tumult and the carnage! Ah, see! Canst thou not
see? There are soldiers upon the city walls! There are balls of fire
flying in the gloom! There are stones crashing through the air--yea,
even the marble of the Temple of the Jews! Canst thou not see?
Aye--look! The Temple falleth! It is scattered until not one stone is
left upon another! And ever above the thunder-din cometh the cry, 'Help!
Help!' Famine do I see until mothers eat the tender flesh that hugs
their bosoms! And pestilence do I see until death hath devoured all
life! The Roman plow is driven over the Holy Place of the Jew and
scavengers of the desert revel in naked tombs! And here from this place
of abominations arise the hands of Pilate! Crimson like dye they are.
And there gathers from the gray and awful stillness, the pale face of the
Jew! Again--and yet again I se