The Silver Cross; Or, The Carpenter of Nazareth

'Oh! speak,' exclaimed Aurelia, eagerly: 'speak at once, dear Jane; what means?'

'Silence, we are observed,' replied Jane, 'by and bye we will talk over it.'

In fact the Seigneur Chusa, very indignant at the obstinacy of his wife in defending the young Nazarene, occasionally threw upon her angry looks while conversing with Caiphus.

Pontius Pilate had once more emptied his large goblet, and with his cheeks inflamed, his eyes fixed and sparkling, and a complete stranger to all that was passing around him, he seemed to be enjoying an extreme inward beatitude. The Seigneur Baruch, after consulting in a low tone with Caiphus and the banker, said to the Roman: 'Seigneur Pontius Pilate!' But the Seigneur Pontius Pilate, smiling more and more to himself, made no reply; the doctor of law was obliged to touch him on the arm. The Procurator, now appearing to awake suddenly, said: 'Excuse me, my seigneurs, I was thinking, I was thinking of … but what is it all?'

'It is, Seigneur Pontius Pilate,' replied Doctor Baruch, 'that if, after all that my friends and myself have narrated to you of the abominable projects of this Nazarene, you do not proceed against him with the greatest rigour, you, the representative of the august Emperor Tiberius, the natural protector of Herod, our prince, it will happen that…'

'Well! what will happen, my seigneurs?'

'It will happen that before next Easter, Jerusalem, the whole of Judea, will be given up to pillage by the act of this Nazarene, whom the populace already calls the King of the Jews.'

Pontius Pilate replied, maintaining that tranquil and careless manner that characterized him: 'Come, my seigneurs, don't take bushes for forests, or molehills for mountains! Is it for me to remind you of your history? Is this boy of Nazareth the first who has bethought him of playing the part of a Messiah? Have you not had Judas the Galilean, who pretended that the Israelites were to acknowledge no master but God, and who endeavored to stir up the population against the power of us Romans? What happened? This Judas was put to death; and it shall be the same with this young Nazarene if he thinks of exciting rebellion.'

'No doubt, seigneur,' replied Caiphus, the high priest.

'The Nazarene is not the first impostor who has proclaimed himself the Messiah which our holy scriptures have announced for so many ages. For fifty years past, not to speak of recent facts, Jonathan, and after him, Simon, the magician, surnamed the Great Virtue of God; then Barkokebah, the Son of the Star, and many other pretended Messiahs or Saviors, and regenerators of the country of Israel! But none of these cheats had the influence of this Nazarene, and especially his infernal audacity; they did not, like him, furiously attack the rich, the doctors of law, the priests, family, and religion; in fact, all that should be respected, under pain of seeing Israel fall into chaos.

'Those other impostors did not address themselves specially and constantly, like the Nazarene, to the dregs of the populace, of which he disposes in a fearful manner; for indeed, only lately the Seigneur Baruch, weary of the public outrages with which the Nazarene pursued the Pharisees, that is, the most respectable persons of Jerusalem, who profess the pharisaical opinions, so honest, so moderate in all things, the Seigneur Baruch, I say, wished to imprison the Nazarene; but the attitude of the populace became so menacing that my noble friend Baruch dared not give the order to arrest this wicked man.

'Thus, then, Seigneur Pontius Pilate, you have at your disposal a considerable armed force: if you do not come to our aid, who have at our disposition only a feeble militia, a portion of which is no less infected than the populace with the detestable doctrines of the Nazarene, we will not answer for the public peace; and a popular rising against your own troops is possible.'

'Oh! as to that, my seigneur,' replied Pontius Pilate, smiling, 'you will find me the first prepared, helmet on head, cuirass on back, and sword in hand, if the Nazarene dare revolt the populace against my troops; as for the rest, by Jupiter, unravel your skein yourselves if ‘tis in a mess, my seigneurs: these interior affairs concern you alone, you senators of the city. Arrest the young man, imprison him, crucify him if he deserves it, ‘tis your right, make use of it; as for me, I represent here the emperor, my master; as long as his power is not attacked, I shall not budge.'

"And besides, Seigneur Procurator," said Jane, "has not the young man of Nazareth said: 'Render unto God that which is God's, and unto Cæsar that which is Cæsar's?'"

'‘Tis true, noble Jane,' replied Pontius Pilate; 'and there is a wide difference between that and a wish to stir up the people against the Roman.'

'But do you not see, then, seigneur,' exclaimed Doctor Baruch, 'that this cheat acts in this way from hypocrisy, that he might not arouse your suspicions, and that, the hour arrived, he will call the populace to arms?'

'In that event, my seigneurs,' replied Pontius Pilate, again emptying his cup, 'the Nazarene will find me prepared to receive him at the head of my cohorts; but until then I have nothing to do with your broils.'

At this moment a Roman officer entered in a state of bewilderment, and said to Pontius Pilate: 'Seigneur Procurator, strange news has just arrived here.'

'What is it?'

'A great popular emotion is caused by Jesus of Nazareth.'

'Poor young man!' said Aurelia, addressing Jane: 'he is the sport of misfortune; every one is against him!'

'Let us listen,' said Jane anxiously: 'let us listen!'

'You see, Seigneur Pontius Pilate,' exclaimed at the same time the high priest, the doctor, and the banker, 'not a day passes on which this Nazarene does not disturb the public peace.'

'Answer me,' said the governor to the officer: – 'what does it concern?'

"Some people arrived from Bethany pretend that three days ago, Jesus of Nazareth brought the dead to life: all the people in the town are in extraordinary commotion; bands of ragged fellows are at the present moment running about the streets of Jerusalem, with torches crying: 'Glory to Jesus of Nazareth, who brings the dead to life!'"

'The audacious knave!' exclaimed Caiphus: 'to try to imitate our holy prophets! to imitate Elias, who resuscitated the son of the widow: of Elisha, who resuscitated Joreb! Profanation, profanation!'

'He is an impostor!' exclaimed Jonas: '‘tis impious, sacrilegious deception! Our holy scriptures announce that the Messiah shall bring the dead to life. The Nazarene would play his character to the end.'

'They go so far as to give the name of the dead man resuscitated,' observed the officer: 'he is named Lazarus!'

'I demand from the Seigneur Pontius Pilate,' exclaimed Caiphus, 'that they discover and arrest this Lazarus on the instant!'

'There must be an example,' exclaimed the doctor of law: 'this Lazarus must be hung! this will teach him to come to life!'

'Do you hear them? they will put this poor man to death,' said Aurelia, addressing Jane, and shrugging her shoulders: 'to lose one's life, because we have regained it despite ourself! for they will not accuse him, I suppose, of soliciting to be resuscitated: decidedly they are mad.'

'Alas! dear Aurelia,' said Chusa's wife mournfully, 'there are wicked madmen.'

'I repeat,' exclaimed Doctor Baruch, 'that this Lazarus must be hung.'

'Stuff! my seigneurs: why, look you, here is an honest corpse sleeping tranquilly in its sepulchre, not thinking of any harm; he is brought to life; he cannot help it, and you would have me hang him for this?'

'Yes, seigneur,' exclaimed Caiphus; 'we must extirpate the disease at the root; for if this Nazarene now takes to resuscitating the dead…'

'It is impossible to foresee where it will end,' cried Doctor Baruch: 'I therefore formally demand of the Seigneur Pontius Pilate, that this audacious Lazarus be put to death!'

'But, seigneur,' said Aurelia, 'suppose you hang him, and the young Nazarene resuscitates him again?'

'We will hang him again! Dame Aurelia!' exclaimed Jonas, the banker: 'We will hang him again! By Joshua! it would be a joke to yield to these vagabonds!'

'My seigneurs!' said Pontius Pilate: 'you have your militia, arrest and hang this Lazarus, if you like; but you will be more unmerciful than we heathens, whether Greeks or Romans, who, like you, have had our resuscitated. But, by Jupiter! we do not hang them; for I have heard it said that quite recently Apollonius of Tyana resuscitated a young girl, whose funeral he met, followed by her betrothed in great trouble. Apollonius spoke a few magic words, the young girl issued from her coffin, more fresh, more charming than ever. The marriage took place, and the pair lived very happy.'

'Would you then have the poor girl die a second time, my seigneurs?' inquired Aurelia.

'Yes, certainly,' replied Caiphus, 'if she was the accomplice of an impostor; and since the seigneur Procurator leaves us abandoned to our own forces, I and my worthy friend Baruch will quit you, that we may give instant orders relative to the arrest of this Lazarus.'

'Do so, my seigneurs,' replied Pontius Pilate, rising, 'you are senators of your city.'

'Seigneur Gremion,' said Chusa, the steward of Herod's household, 'I must depart the day after to-morrow for Bethlehem: if you would like that we should travel in company, I will anticipate my departure by a day, and will start to-morrow morning, we shall return in two or three days; I shall take advantage of your escort, for in these troubled times it is right to be well accompanied.'

'I accept your offer, Seigneur Chusa,' replied the treasury-receiver; 'I shall be delighted to journey with some one who, like yourself, knows the country.'

'Dear Aurelia,' said Jane to her friend softly, 'you wish to see the young man of Nazareth?'

'Oh! more than ever, dear Jane; all that I hear redoubles my curiosity.'

'Come to my house to-morrow, after the departure of my husband,' resumed Jane in a low tone, 'and perhaps we may find means of satisfying you.'

'But how?'

'I will tell you, dear Aurelia.'

'To-morrow then, dear Jane.'

And the two young women quitted, in company with their husbands and me, the slave Genevieve, the house of Pontius Pilate.

CHAPTER II

The tavern of the Wild Ass was the usual resort of the conductors of camels, of the men who let out donkeys, of porters, pedlars, vendors of water melons, pomegranates, of fresh dates, when in season, and later of preserved olives and dry dates. In this tavern were also to be found men of no profession, prostitutes of the lowest class, beggars, vagabonds, and those worthy fellows whose armed protection was purchased by travellers when they repaired from one town to another, in order to be defended against the highwayman by this escort often very much suspected. There might also be seen those Roman slaves brought by their masters into the country of the Hebrews.

This tavern had a bad reputation; disputes and quarrels were frequent there, and at the approach of night none were seen to venture in the neighborhood of the Lamb's-gate, not far from which this den was situated, but men of suspicious figure or women of a low class; then, night having completely set in, from this dreaded place issued cries, bursts of laughter, bacchanalian songs; frequently painful groans succeeded to the disputes; from time to time some men of the Jerusalem militia entered the tavern under pretence of establishing peace and quietness, and left it, either more drunk and disorderly than the drinkers, or driven out with sticks and stones.

On the day following that on which the supper at Pontius Pilate's had taken place, towards the evening about dusk, two young men, plainly dressed in white tunics and turbans of blue cloth, were walking through a narrow winding street, at the end of which was perceived the door of the dreaded tavern; they conversed as they advanced, and frequently turned their heads towards one of the extremities of the street, as if they expected the appearance of some one.

'Genevieve,' said one to his companion stopping (these two pretended young men were Aurelia and her slave, disguised under masculine garments), 'Genevieve, my new friend Jane is late in coming, this alarms me; and besides, if I must confess it, I am afraid of committing some folly.'

'In that case, my dear mistress, let us return home.'

'I have a great mind to; but then shall I ever meet with such an opportunity again?'

'It is true that the absence of the Seigneur Gremion, your husband, who departed this morning with the Seigneur Chusa, steward of Herod the prince, leaves you completely free, and that perhaps for some time you may not enjoy quite so much liberty.'

'Confess, Genevieve, that you are still more curious than I am to see this extraordinary man, this young Nazarene?'

'Were it so, my dear mistress, there would be nothing astonishing in my desire; I am a slave, and the Nazarene says that there ought to be no longer slaves.'

'I render your slavery very hard, then, Genevieve?'

'No, oh! no! But sincerely, do you know many mistresses who resemble you?'

'It is not for me to reply to that, flatterer' —

'It is for me to say so. If by chance we meet with one good mistress like you, there are a hundred who, for a word, or the slightest negligence, mutilate their slaves with the lash, or torture them with a cruel joy. Is this true?'

'I do not deny it.'

'You render my servitude as mild as possible, my dear mistress; but still I do not belong to myself. I have been obliged to separate from my poor Fergan, my husband, who wept so on quitting me. What assures me that on your return I shall find him at Marseilles, that he has not been sold and carried I know not where? What assures me that the Seigneur Gremion will not sell me, or separate me from you?'

'I have promised you that you shall not quit me.'

'But if your husband wishes to sell me, you could not prevent him.'

'Alas! no.'

'And a hundred years ago, the fathers and mothers of us Gauls were free; however Fergan's ancestors were the most valiant chiefs of their tribe!'

'Oh!' said Aurelia, smiling, 'the daughters of a Cæsar would not be more proud of having an emperor as a father than you are, of what you call the father of your husband.'

'Pride is not permitted to slaves,' replied Genevieve mournfully; 'all that I regret, is our liberty. What have we done, then, to lose it? Ah! if the prayers of this young man of Nazareth are answered! if there are to be no more slaves!'

'No more slaves? Why, Genevieve, you are mad; is it possible! No more slaves? That their life be rendered as sweet as possible, be it so; but no more slaves would be the end of the world. – Look you, Genevieve, it is these exaggerations that do so much harm to this young Nazarene.'

'He is not believed by the rich and powerful. – Yesterday, at the supper with Pontius Pilate, standing behind you, I did not lose a word. What bitterness against this young man!'

'What would you, Genevieve?' replied Aurelia smiling; '‘tis a little his own fault.'

'You, too, accuse him?'

'No, but still he attacks the bankers, the doctors of law, the physicians, the priests, all those hypocrites in fact, who, Jane tells me, belong to pharisaical opinions. It requires no more to ruin him forever.'

'It is courageous at least, to speak these truths to wicked men, and this young man of Nazareth is as good as he is courageous, according to Jane, your friend. She is rich, and held in consideration; she is not a slave like me; he does not preach in her favor therefore, and yet see how she admires him!'

'This admiration of a sweet and charming woman testifies, it is true, in favor of this young man; for Jane, with her noble heart, would be incapable of admiring the wicked. What an amiable friend chance has given me in her! I know nothing more tender than her look, or more penetrating than her voice. She says that when this Nazarene speaks to those who are suffering, to the poor and to the little children, his face becomes divine. I don't know, but what is certain is, that the face of Jane becomes celestial when she speaks of him.'

'Is it not she who is approaching on this side, my dear mistress?'

'I hear a gentle step in the shade.'

'It must be her.'

In fact, Jane, also dressed as a young man, had soon joined Aurelia and her slave. 'You have been waiting for me some time, perhaps, Aurelia?' said the young woman; 'but I could not secretly leave my house before this hour.'

'Jane, I do not feel myself quite easy; I am perhaps still more timid than curious. Only think, women of our condition in this horrible tavern, where, as they say, the dregs of the populace assemble.'

'Be not afraid; these people are more turbulent and frightful to look at than really wicked. I have already been among them twice under this disguise with one of my relations to hear the young master. The tavern is but feebly lighted; round the court runs a dark gallery where we shall not be seen. – We will order a jug of beer, and they will not trouble themselves about us; they are only occupied with the young man of Nazareth, or in his absence, with his disciples, who come to preach good news. Come, Aurelia, it is late, come.'

'Listen! listen!' said the young woman to Jane, turning her ear toward the tavern with some uneasiness; 'hear you those cries? They are disputing in that horrible place!'

'That proves that the young master is not yet arrived,' replied Jane; 'for in his presence every voice is silent, and the most violent become as gentle as lambs.'

'And besides, Jane, just look at that group of men and women of evil mien, collected before the door by the light of that lantern. Pray, let us wait till they have passed on or entered the tavern.'

'Come, there is nothing to fear, I tell you.'

'No, I entreat you, Jane: another moment. – Really, I admire your bravery!'

'Oh! ‘tis because Jesus of Nazareth inspires courage as he inspires gentleness towards the guilty, tenderness for him who suffers. And then, if you knew how natural his language is! what touching and ingenuous parables he finds to bring his ideas within reach of simple men, of the poor in mind as he calls them, and whom he loves so! Thus, all, even the little children, for whom he has so great a liking, understand his words and lose not a syllable. Undoubtedly, before him, other Messiahs have prophesied the deliverance of our country oppressed by the stranger, have explained our holy scriptures, and have by the magical means of medicine treated diseases thought incurable; but none of these Messiahs have hitherto shown that patient sweetness with which the young master teaches the humble and the young, all in fact; for with him there are no infidels, no heathens; every good and simple heart for the very reason that it is good is worthy of the kingdom of heaven. Don't you know his parable of the heathen? Nothing is more simple and more touching.'

'No, Jane, I do not know it.'

'‘Tis the last I heard him preach. It is called the Good Samaritan.'

'What is a Samaritan?'

'The Samaritans are an idolatrous people, beyond the farthest mountains of Judea; the high priests regard these people as excluded from the kingdom of God. Here is the parable:

'A man who was going to Jerusalem fell into the hands of robbers; they pillaged him, covered him with wounds, and went on their way leaving him half dead.

'It so happened afterwards that a Priest went the same road, who having perceived the wounded man, passed on.

'A Levite, who approached the same place, having noticed the wounded man, also passed on.

'But a Samaritan, who was travelling, came to the spot where the man was, and seeing him, he was moved with compassion, approached him, poured oil and wine upon his wounds, bandaged them, and having placed him on his horse, he led him to an hostelry and took care of him.

'The next morning the Samaritan drew two penny pieces from his pocket, gave them to the host, and said to him: 'Pay attention to this man; all that you expend beyond this, I will repay you.'

'Now,' inquired Jesus of his disciples, 'which of these three men, think you, was the neighbor of him who had fallen into the hands of the robbers?'

'It is he,' they replied to Jesus, 'who was merciful to the wounded man.'

'Go in peace, then, and do likewise,' replied Jesus, with a heavenly smile.

Genevieve the slave, on hearing this recital, could not restrain her tears, for Jane had accented with ineffable sweetness the last words of Jesus: 'Go, then, in peace, and do likewise.'

'You are right, Jane,' said Aurelia, musing; 'a child would comprehend the meaning of these words, and I feel myself moved.'

'And yet, this parable,' continued Jane, 'is one of those which have the most irritated the high priests and the doctors of law against the young man of Nazareth.'

'And why?'

'Because in this narrative he shows a Samaritan, a heathen, more humane than the Levite, than the Priest, since this idolator, seeing a brother in the wounded man, succored him, and thus renders himself more worthy of heaven than the two holy men of hard hearts. This, you see, is just what the enemies of Jesus call blasphemies, sacrileges!'

'Jane, let us go to the tavern. I have no longer any fear of entering this place. People for whom such narratives are invented, and who listen to them with avidity, cannot be wicked.'

'You see, my dear Aurelia, the words of the Nazarene already act upon you; they give you confidence and courage. Come, come.'

The young woman took the arm of her friend; both, followed by the slave Genevieve, turned their steps towards the tavern of the 'Wild Ass,' where they soon arrived.

This tavern, a square built house, like most in the East, was composed of an interior court surrounded with stout pillars, supporting a terrace and forming four galleries, beneath which the drinkers could retire in case of rain; but the night being mild and serene, the majority of the customers were at tables in the court, lighted by a large iron lamp in the middle of the court. This unique luminary, but feebly lighting the galleries, in which were also some drinkers, they remained completely obscured.

It was to one of these gloomy retreats that Jane, Aurelia and the slave Genevieve, directed their steps; they saw in passing through the crowd, then somewhat noisy, many persons in rags or poorly clad, women of immoral life, miserably attired, had as a turban, a scrap of white sackcloth; some others, on the contrary, wore robes and turbans of precious stuff, but faded; bracelets, ear-rings and necklaces in copper, ornamented with false stones; their cheeks were covered with a brilliant paint; their haggard and sorrowful countenance, and a stamp of bitterness, which revealed itself even in their noisy and intemperate joy, told quite enough of the miseries, the anguish, and the shame of their sad life as courtezans.

Amongst the men, some appeared dispirited by poverty, others had a bold and audacious air; several wore rusty weapons at their girdle, or leant upon their long sticks terminated by a ball of iron; elsewhere might be recognized by their iron collar and shaven head, the domestic slaves belonging to Roman officers; further on, the infirm, in rags, were seated on the ground in crutches.

Mothers held in their arms their infant children, pale and thin, whom they hugged with a regard tenderly anxious, no doubt also awaiting the arrival of the young Nazarene, so skilled in the healing art.

Genevieve, from some words exchanged between two men well dressed, but of harsh and disagreeable features, guessed that they were the secret emissaries whom the high priests and doctors of the law made use of to note the words of the Nazarene, and draw him into a snare of an imprudent confidence.

Jane, more bold than her friend, had made a passage for her through the crowd; seeing a table unoccupied, placed in the shade and behind one of the pillars of the galleries, the wife of the Seigneur Chusa seated herself at it with Aurelia, and demanded a jug of beer from one of the girls of the tavern, whilst Genevieve, standing by the side of her mistress, did not lose sight of the two emissaries of the pharisees, and greedily listened to all that was said round about her.

'The night advances,' said a young and handsome woman mournfully to one of her companions seated at a table before her, and whose cheeks were like her own, covered with paint, as was customary with courtezans.'

'Jesus of Nazareth will not come here to-night.'

'‘Twas scarcely worth while to come here; we could have taken a walk in the neighborhood of the Pool: and there some Roman officer, half drunk, or some doctor of law, hugging the walls, his nose in his cloak, would have given us a supper. You must not complain, Oliba, if we go to our couch supperless: 'twas your wish.'

'That sort of bread seems to me now so bitter, that I do not regret it.'

'Bitter or not, it was bread, and when we are hungry, we must eat.'

'In listening to the words of Jesus,' replied the other courtezan, mildly, 'I should have forgotten hunger.'

'Oliba, you will become mad. To feed upon words!'

'The words of Jesus always say: pardon, mercy, love; and hitherto for us there was nothing but words of scorn and contempt!' And the courtezan remained pensive, her forehead resting upon her hand.

'You are a strange girl, Oliba,' continued the other, 'but however, empty as it is, we shall not have even this supper of words; for the Nazarene will not come now: it is too late.'

'On the contrary, I trust the all powerful God may direct him here!' said a poor woman seated on the ground near the two courtezans, and holding in her arms a sickly child: —

'I am come from Bethlehem on foot to pray our good Jesus to cure my poor little babe; he is unparalleled for the cure of diseases of children, and far from being paid for his advices, he often gives you something wherewith to purchase the balsams he prescribes.'

'By the body of Solomon! I, too, hope that our friend Jesus will come here to-night,' observed a tall man, with a ferocious face, and a long stiff beard, dressed in a red rag of a turban, and a short robe of camel's hair, almost in rags, confined at the waist by a cord supporting a large rusty cutlass without a sheath. This man also held in his hand a long stick with an iron knob at the point.

'If our worthy friend of Nazareth does not come to-night, I shall have lost my time for nothing, for I had engaged to escort a traveller who feared going alone from Jerusalem to Bethlehem lest he should meet with unpleasant encounters.'

'Just look at that bandit, with his hang-dog face and his grand cutlass! Does he not look like a very safe escort?' quietly said to his companion one of the two emissaries, seated not very far from Genevieve.

'What a daring villain!'

'He would have murdered and robbed the too confident traveller in the first bye way!' said the other emissary.

'As true as my name is Banaias!' continued the man with the cutlass, 'I should have lost without regret this little godsend of escorting a traveller if our friend of Nazareth had come, I like the man. I must say! he consoles you not a little for wearing rags, by showing that since they can no more enter into paradise than a camel can pass through the eye of a needle, all the wicked rich will one day be roasted like capons in Beelzebub's kitchen. This neither fills our belly or our purse, it's true, but it is a consolation; so I shall pass whole days and nights listening to his overhauling the priests, the doctors of law and the other pharisees! And our friend does well, for we must hear these pharisees. If you are brought before their tribunal for some trifle, they can only say, 'Quick to gaol or to the lash! thief! villain! firebrand of hell! son of Satan!' and other paternal remonstrances. By the nose of Ezekiel! do they think thus to ruin men? The cursed fools don't know, then, that many a horse, restive to the whip, will obey the voice. But our friend of Nazareth knows it well, when he said to us the other day, 'If your brother has sinned against you, take him back; if he repents, pardon him.' That's talking; for, by the ear of Melchisedeck! I am not as tender and benign as the pascal lamb. No, no: I have had time to harden my heart, my head and my skin. – Twenty years ago, my father drove me from his house for a youthful folly. Since then I have lived at loggerheads with the devil. I am just as difficult to bridle as a wild ass. And yet, on the faith of Banaias! by a single word of his gentle voice, our friend of Nazareth could make me go to the end of the world.'

'If Jesus cannot come,' said another drinker, 'he will send one of his disciples to inform us, and to preach to us good news in the name of his master.'

'For want of a cake of fine wheaten flour kneaded with honey, we eat barley bread,' said an old mendicant bent with age.

'The words of the disciples are good: that of the master is better.'

'Oh, yes!' observed another old mendicant; 'to us who have despaired since our birth, he gives eternal hope.'

'Jesus teaches us that we are not below our masters,' said a slave of gloomy appearance.

'Now, since we are as good as our masters, by what right do they keep us in slavery?'

'Is it because if there are a hundred masters on one side, we are ten thousand slaves on the other?' observed a second.

'Patience, patience! a day will come when we shall reckon our masters, and reckon ourselves afterwards; after which will be accomplished the words of Jesus, 'The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.' He has said to us artizans, who, by the burden of taxes and the avarice of sellers, are often in want of bread and garments, as also our wives and children, 'Be not disquieted; God, our father, provides apparel for the lilies of the valley, and food for the young sparrows: a day will come in which you shall want nothing.' Yes, for Jesus has also said this, 'Put neither gold, nor silver, nor money in your purse, nor sack for your journey, nor two coats, nor shoes, for he who works deserves to be maintained.'