way of getting rid of Lazarus, at least it was possible
to soften the terrible impression his face produced. With this in view,
skillful painters, barbers, and artists were summoned, and all night
long they were busy over Lazarus' head. They cropped his beard, curled
it, and gave it a tidy, agreeable appearance. By means of paints they
concealed the corpse-like blueness of his hands and face. Repulsive were
the wrinkles of suffering that furrowed his old face, and they were
puttied, painted, and smoothed; then, over the smooth background,
wrinkles of good-tempered laughter and pleasant, carefree mirth were
skillfully painted with fine brushes.

Lazarus submitted indifferently to everything that was done to him. Soon
he was turned into a becomingly stout, venerable old man, into a quiet
and kind grandfather of numerous offspring. It seemed that the smile,
with which only a while ago he was spinning funny yarns, was still
lingering on his lips, and that in the corner of his eye serene
tenderness was hiding, the companion of old age. But people did not dare
change his nuptial garments, and they could not change his eyes, two
dark and frightful glasses through which looked at men, the unknowable
Yonder.

VI

Lazarus was not moved by the magnificence of the imperial palace. It was
as though he saw no difference between the crumbling house, closely
pressed by the desert, and the stone palace, solid and fair, and
indifferently he passed into it. And the hard marble of the floors under
his feet grew similar to the quicksand of the desert, and the multitude
of richly dressed and haughty men became like void air under his glance.
No one looked into his face, as Lazarus passed by, fearing to fall under
the appalling influence of his eyes; but when the sound of his heavy
footsteps had sufficiently died down, the courtiers raised their heads
and with fearful curiosity examined the figure of a stout, tall,
slightly bent old man, who was slowly penetrating into the very heart of
the imperial palace. Were Death itself passing, it would be faced with
no greater fear: for until then the dead alone knew Death, and those
alive knew Life only--and there was no bridge between them. But this
extraordinary man, although alive, knew Death, and enigmatical,
appalling, was his cursed knowledge. "Woe," people thought, "he will
take the life of our great, deified Augustus," and they sent curses
after Lazarus, who meanwhile kept on advancing i