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  CHAPTER VII.

  The day, hot and bright from early morning, was obscured about midday.From the northeast clouds were rolling up, either dark orcopper-colored, not over large, but dense, as if pregnant with atempest. Between them the deep blue of the sky was still visible, but itwas easy to foresee that they would soon pack together and conceal thewhole round of the sky. Meanwhile the sun covered the edges of them withfire and gold. Over the city itself and the adjacent hills thereextended yet a broad space of clear blue, and in the valley there was nobreath of wind.

  On the lofty platform of ground called Golgotha stood here and theresmall groups of people who had preceded the procession which was to movefrom the city. The sun illuminated broad, stony spaces, which wereempty, gloomy, and barren; their monotonous pearl-color was interruptedonly by the black net of ravines and gullies, the blacker because theplatform itself was covered with light. In the distance were visiblemore elevated eminences, equally empty, veiled by the blue haze ofdistance.

  Lower down, between the walls of the city and the platform of Golgotha,lay a plain bordered in places with cliffs less naked. From crannies inwhich had collected some little fertile earth, fig-trees peeped forthwith few and scant leaves. Here and there rose flat-roofed buildingsfixed to the cliff-side, like swallows' nests to stone walls, or shiningfrom afar in the sun-rays were sepulchres, painted white. At present,because of the approaching holidays and the concourse of provincials inthe capital, multitudes of huts and tents had been raised near the citywalls; these formed whole encampments filled with men and camels.

  The sun rose ever higher on that expanse of heaven which was still freefrom clouds. The hours were approaching in which usually deep silencereigned on those heights, for every living creature sought refuge insidethe walls or within the ravines. And even at this time, in spite ofuncommon animation, there was a certain sadness in that neighborhood inwhich the dazzling light fell not on green, but on gray stone expanses.The noise of distant voices, coming from the direction of the walls, waschanged into the sound of waves, as it were, and seemed to be swallowedby the silence.

  The single groups of people waiting on Golgotha since morning turnedtheir faces toward the city, whence the procession might move at anymoment. Antea's litter arrived; a few soldiers, sent by the procurator,preceded it. These were to open a way through the multitude, and in caseof need restrain from deeds of disrespect the fanatical throng, andthose who hated foreigners. At the side of the litter walked Cinna, incompany with the centurion Rufilus.

  Antea was calmer, less frightened than usual at the approach of midday,and with it the terror of dreadful visions, which had drawn the life outof her. What the procurator had said touching the young Nazarene, hadattracted her mind and turned attention from her own misery. For herthere was in this something wonderful which she could hardly understand.The world of that time had seen many persons die as calmly as a funeralpile quenches when the fuel in it is consumed. But that was a calmnesscoming from bravery, or from a philosophic agreement with the implacablenecessity of exchanging light for darkness, real life for an existencemisty, vanishing, and indefinite. No one up to that time had blesseddeath; no one had died with unshaken certainty that only after thefuneral pyre or the grave would real life begin,--life as mighty andendless as only a being all-powerful and eternal can give.

  And he whom they had appointed for crucifixion declared this as anundoubted truth. This teaching not only struck Antea, but seemed to herthe only source of consolation. She knew that she must die, and immenseregret seized her. For what did death mean for her? It meant to loseCinna, to lose her father, to lose the world, to lose love, for a cold,empty gloom, which was half nothing. Hence the more desirable it was forher in life, the greater must be her sorrow. If death could be good foranything, or if it were possible to take with her even the remembranceof love, or the memory of happiness, she would be able to gainresignation the more quickly.

  Then, while she expected nothing from death, she heard all at once thatit could give everything. And who had made that announcement? A certainwonderful man, a teacher, a prophet, a philosopher, who enjoined love asthe highest virtue, who blessed people when they were lashing him; andthis man they had condemned to the cross. Hence Antea thought: "Why didhe teach thus if the cross was his only reward? Others desired power; hedid not desire it. Others desired wealth; he remained poor. Othersdesired palaces, feasts, excesses, purple robes, and chariots inlaidwith mother-of-pearl and ivory; he lived like a shepherd. Meanwhile heenjoined love, compassion, poverty; therefore he could not be maliciousand deceive people purposely. If he spoke the truth, let death beblessed as the end of earthly misery, as the change from a lower to aloftier happiness, as light for eyes that are quenching, as wings withwhich one flies away into endless bliss!"

  Antea understood then what the promise of resurrection signified. Themind and heart of the poor sick woman cleaved with all their strength tothat teaching. She recalled also the words of her father, who hadrepeated more than once that some new truth might bring the torturedsoul of man out of darkness and imprisonment. And here was the newtruth! It had conquered death; hence it had brought salvation. Anteasank with her whole being in those thoughts; so that for many and many aday Cinna for the first time failed to find terror in her face at theapproach of midday.

  The procession moved at last from the city toward Golgotha. From theheight where Antea was sitting, it could be seen perfectly. The crowd,though considerable, seemed lost on those stony expanses. Through theopen gate of Jerusalem flowed more and more people, and on the way theywere joined by those who had been waiting outside the walls. They wentat first in a long line, which, as it moved forward, spread like aswollen river. At both sides were running swarms of children.

  The procession was made varied and many-colored by the white tunics andthe scarlet and blue kerchiefs of women. In the centre were glitteringthe arms and spears of Roman soldiers, on which the sun cast fleetingrays, as it were. The uproar of mingled voices came from afar and rosewith increasing distinctness.

  At last the multitude came quite near; the first ranks began to ascendthe height. The throng of people hurried on so as to occupy the nearestplaces and see the torment more clearly; because of this the division ofsoldiers, conducting the condemned, fell more and more toward the rear.Children arrived first, mainly boys, half naked, with cloths fastenedaround their hips, with shaven heads, except two tufts of hair near thetemple, embrowned, with eyes almost blue, and harsh voices. In the wilduproar they fell to pulling out of the crannies bits of stone brokenfrom the cliffs; these they wished to throw at those who were to becrucified. Right after them the height swarmed with a nondescriptrabble. Their faces were for the greater part excited by the movementand by the hope of a spectacle. On no face was there a sign ofcompassion. The noise of rasping voices, the endless number of wordsthrown out by each mouth, the suddenness of their movements, astonishedAntea, though accustomed in Alexandria to the word-loving liveliness ofGreeks. Before her, people spoke as if they wished to hurl themselves atone another. They screamed as if escaping death; they resisted as ifsome one were flaying them.

  The centurion Rufilus, approaching the litter, gave explanations in acalm, official voice. Meanwhile new waves flowed up from the city. Thethrong increased every moment. In the crowd were seen wealthy men ofJerusalem, dressed in girded tunics, holding themselves aloof from thewretched rabble of the suburbs. In numbers also came villagers which thefestival had brought to the city, with their families; field-workers,with kindly and astonished faces, came, bearing bags at their girdles;shepherds came, dressed in goat-skins. Crowds of women came with themen; but as wives of the more wealthy citizens did not leave their homeswillingly, these women were chiefly of the people. They were villagers,or women of the street; these last dressed gaudily, had dyed hair,brows, and nails; they wore immense ear-rings and coin necklaces, andgave out from a distance the odor of nard.

  The Sanhedrim arrived at last; and in the midst of it, Annas,
an agedman with the face of a vulture and eyes with red lids; then appeared theunwieldy Caiaphas, wearing a two-horned hat, with a gilded tablet on hisbreast. With these walked various Pharisees; as, for instance, those who"drag their legs" and strike every obstacle purposely with their feet;Pharisees with "bloody foreheads," who beat those foreheads against thewall, also by design; and Pharisees "bent over," as if to receive theburden of the sins of the whole city on their shoulders. Gloomyimportance and cold vindictiveness distinguished them from the noisyrabble.

  Cinna looked at this throng of people with the cool, contemptuous visageof a man of the ruling race, Antea with astonishment and fear. Many Jewsinhabited Alexandria, but there they were half Hellenized; here for thefirst time she saw Jews as the procurator had described them, and asthey were in their own native nest. Her youthful face, on which deathhad imprinted its stamp, her form, resembling a shadow, attractedgeneral attention. They stared at her with insolence in so far as thesoldiers surrounding her litter permitted them; and so great among themwas contempt for foreigners that no compassion was evident in the eyesof any; rather did gladness shine in them because the victim would notescape death. Then the daughter of Timon understood for the first time,and precisely, why those people demanded a cross for the prophet who hadproclaimed love.

  And all at once that Nazarene appeared to Antea as some one so near thathe was almost dear to her. He had to die, and so had she. Nothing couldsave him now, after the issuing of the sentence, and sentence had fallenalso on her; hence it seemed to Antea that the brotherhood of misfortuneand death had united them. But he approached the cross with faith in amorrow after death. She had not that faith yet, and had come to obtainit from the sight of him.

  Meanwhile from afar was heard an uproar, a whistling, a howling, thenall was silent. Next came clatter of weapons and the heavy tread oflegionaries. The crowds swayed, opened, and the division conducting thecondemned began to push past the litter. In front, at both sides, andbehind, advanced soldiers with slow and measured tread. Next were threearms of crosses, which seemed to move of themselves; they were borne bypersons bent under the weight of them. It was easy to divine that theNazarene was not among those three, for two had the insolent faces ofthieves. The third was a simple countryman, no longer young; clearly thesoldiers had impressed him to do work for another.

  The Nazarene walked behind the crosses; two soldiers marched near him.He wore a purple mantle thrown over his garments, and a crown of thorns,from under the points of which drops of blood issued; of these someflowed slowly along his face, others had grown stiff under the crown, inthe form of berries of the wild rose, or coral beads. He was pale, andmoved forward with slow, unsteady, and weakened step. He advanced amidinsults from the multitude, sunk, as it were, in the meditation ofanother world; he was as if seized away from the earth altogether, as ifnot caring for the cries of hatred, or as if forgiving beyond themeasure of human forgiveness and compassionate beyond the measure ofhuman compassion, for, embraced now by infinity, raised above humanestimate, he was exceedingly mild, and was sorrowful only through hismeasureless sorrow for all men.

  "Thou art Truth," whispered Antea, with trembling lips.

  The retinue was passing just near the litter. It halted for a momentwhile soldiers in front were clearing the road of the throng; Antea sawthen the Nazarene a few steps away. She saw the breeze move his hair;she saw the ruddy reflection from his mantle on his pallid and almosttransparent face. The mob, rushing toward him, surrounded with a densehalf-circle the soldiers, who had to resist with spears, to save himfrom their rage. Everywhere were visible outstretched arms with clinchedfists, eyes bursting through their lids, gleaming teeth, beards thrownapart from mad movements, and foaming lips through which came hoarseshouts. But he looked around, as if wishing to ask, "What have I done toyou?" then he raised his eyes to heaven and prayed--and forgave.

  "Antea! Antea!" cried Cinna at that moment.

  But Antea seemed not to hear his cries. Great tears were falling fromher eyes; she forgot her sickness, forgot that for many days she had notrisen from the litter; and sitting up on a sudden, trembling, halfconscious, from pity, compassion, and indignation at the mad shrieks ofthe multitude, she took hyacinths with apple blossoms and cast thembefore the feet of the Nazarene.

  For a moment there was silence. Amazement seized the crowd at sight ofthis noble Roman lady giving honor to the condemned. He turned his eyesto her poor sick face, and his lips began to move, as if blessing her.Antea fell again on the pillow of the litter; she felt that a sea oflight, of goodness, of grace, of consolation, of hope, of happiness, wasfalling on her.

  "Thou art Truth," whispered she, a second time.

  Then a new wave of tears came to her eyes.

  But they pushed him forward to a place a few tens of steps distant fromthe litter; on that place stood already the uprights of crosses, fixedin a cleft of the rocky platform. The crowd concealed him again; but,since that place was elevated considerably, Antea soon saw his pale faceand the crown of thorns. The legionaries turned once more toward therabble, which they clubbed away, lest it might interrupt the execution.They began then to fasten the two thieves to the side crosses. Thethird cross stood in the middle; to the top of it was fastened, with anail, a white card which the growing wind pulled and raised. Whensoldiers, approaching the Nazarene at last, began to undress him, shoutsrose in the crowds: "King! king! do not yield! King, where are thylegions? Defend thyself!" At moments laughter burst forth,--laughterthat bore away the multitude till on a sudden the whole stony heightresounded with one roar. Then they stretched him face upward on theground, to nail his hands to the arms of the cross, and raise himafterward with it to the main pillar.

  Thereupon some man, in a white tunic, standing not far from the litter,cast himself on the earth suddenly, gathered dust and bits of stone onhis head, and cried in a shrill despairing voice, "I was a leper, andhe cured me; why do ye crucify him?"

  Antea's face became white as a kerchief.

  "He cured that man; dost hear, Caius?" said she.

  "Dost wish to return?" asked Cinna.

  "No! I will remain here!"

  But a wild and boundless despair seized Cinna because he had not calledthe Nazarene to his house to cure Antea.

  At that moment the soldiers, placing nails at his hands, began tostrike. The dull clink of iron against iron was heard; this soon changedinto a sound which went farther, for the points of the nails, havingpassed through flesh, entered the wood. The crowds were silent again,perhaps to enjoy cries which torture might bring from the mouth of theNazarene. But he remained silent, and on the height was heard only theominous and dreadful sound of the hammers.

  At last they had finished the work, and the cross-piece was drawn up,with the body. The centurion in charge pronounced, or rather sang outmonotonously, words of command, in virtue of which a soldier began tonail the feet.

  At this moment those clouds, which since morning had been extending onthe horizon, hid the sun. The distant hills and cliffs, which had beengleaming in brightness, gleamed no longer. The light turned to darkness.An ominous bronze-colored gloom seized the region about, and, as thesun sank more deeply behind piles of clouds, the gloom became denser.Men might have thought that some being from above was sifting down tothe earth lurid darkness. The air now grew sultry.

  All at once even those remnants of lurid gleams became black. Clouds,dark as night, rolled and pushed forward, like a gigantic wave, towardthe height and the city. A tempest was coming! The world was filled withfear.

  "Let us return!" said Cinna again.

  "Once more, once more, I wish to see him," answered Antea.

  Darkness had concealed the hanging bodies. Cinna gave command to carrythe litter nearer the place of torment. They carried it so near thatbarely a few steps were between them and the cross. On the dark treethey saw the body of the Crucified, who in that general eclipse seemedmade of silver rays of the moon. His breast rose with quick breathing.His face and eyes were t
urned upward yet.

  Then from the rolls of clouds was heard a deep rumbling. Thunder wasroused; it rose and rolled with tremendous report from the east to thewest, and then falling, as if into a bottomless abyss, was heard fartherand farther down, now dying away, and now increasing; at last it roaredtill the earth shook in its foundations.

  A gigantic blue lightning-flash rent the clouds, lighted the sky, theearth, the crosses, the arms of the soldiers, and the mob huddledtogether, like a flock of sheep, filled with distress and terror.

  After the lightning came deeper darkness. Close to the litter was heardthe sobbing of women, who also drew near the cross. There was somethingominous in this sobbing amid silence. Those who were lost in themultitude began now to cry out. Here and there were heard terrifiedvoices,--

  "O Yah! oj lanu! [woe to us!] O Yah! Have they not crucified the JustOne?"

  "Who gave true testimony! O Yah!"

  "Who raised the dead!"

  And another voice called,--

  "Woe to thee, Jerusalem!"

  Still another,--

  "The earth trembles!"

  A new lightning-flash disclosed the depths of the sky, and in themgigantic figures of fire, as it were. The voices were silent, or ratherwere lost in the whistling of the whirlwind, which sprang up all at oncewith tremendous force; it swept off a multitude of mantles andkerchiefs, and hurled them away over the height.

  Voices cried out anew,--

  "The earth trembles!"

  Some began to flee. Terror nailed others to the spot; and they stoodfixed in amazement, without thought, with this dull impressiononly,--that something awful was happening.

  But, on a sudden, the gloom began to be less dense. Wind rolled theclouds over, twisted and tore them like rotten rags; brightnessincreased gradually. At last the dark ceiling was rent, and through theopening rushed in all at once a torrent of sunlight; presently theheights became visible, and with them the crosses and the terrifiedfaces of the people.

  The head of the Nazarene had fallen low on his breast; it was as pale aswax; his eyes were closed, his lips blue.

  "He is dead," whispered Antea.

  "He is dead," repeated Cinna.

  At this moment a centurion thrust his spear into the side of the dead. Awonderful thing: the return of light and the sight of that death seemedto appease that crowd. They pushed nearer and nearer, especially sincethe soldiers did not bar approach. Among the throng were heardvoices,--

  "Come down from the cross! Come down from the cross!"

  Antea cast her eyes once more on that low-hanging head, then she said,as if to herself,--

  "Will he rise from the dead?"

  In view of death, which had put blue spots on his eyes and mouth, inview of those arms stretched beyond measure, and in view of thatmotionless body which had settled down with the weight of dead things,her voice trembled with despairing doubt.

  Not less was the disappointment rending Cinna's soul. He also believednot that the Nazarene would rise from the dead; but he believed that hadhe lived, he alone, with his power, good or evil, might have givenhealth to Antea. Meanwhile more numerous voices were calling,--

  "Come down from the cross! Come down from the cross!"

  "Come down!" repeated Cinna, with despair. "Cure her for me; take mylife!"

  The air became purer and purer. The mountains were still in mist, butabove the height and the city the sky had cleared perfectly. "TurrisAntonia" glittered in sunlight as bright itself as the sun. The air hadbecome fresh, and was full of swallows. Cinna gave command to return.

  It was an afternoon hour. Near the house Antea said,--

  "Hecate has not come to-day."

  Cinna also was thinking of that.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  The vision did not appear the next day. The sick woman was unusuallyanimated, for Timon had come from Caesarea. Alarmed for the life of hisdaughter and frightened by Cinna's letters, he had left Alexandria a fewdays earlier to look once again on his only child before her parting. AtCinna's heart hope began to knock again, as if to give notice to receiveit. But he had not courage to open the door to that guest; he did notdare to harbor hope.

  In the visions which had been killing Antea, there had been intervals,it is true, not of two days, but of one in Alexandria, and in thedesert. The present relief Cinna attributed to Timon's arrival, and herimpressions at the cross, which so filled the sick woman's soul that shecould talk of nothing else, even with her father.

  Timon listened with attention; he did not contradict; he meditated andmerely inquired carefully about the doctrine of the Nazarene, of whichAntea knew, for that matter, only what the procurator had told her.

  In general she felt healthier and somewhat stronger; and when midday hadpassed and gone, real solace shone in her eyes. She repeated that thatwas a favorable day, and begged her husband to make note of it.

  The day was really sad and gloomy. Rain had begun in the early morning,at first very heavy, then fine and cutting, from low clouds whichextended monotonously. Only in the evening did the sky break through,and the great fiery globe of the sun look out of the mists, paint inpurple and gold the gray rocks, the white marble porticoes of thevillas, and descend with endless gleams toward the Mediterranean.

  The next morning was wonderfully beautiful. The weather promised to bewarm, but the morning was fresh, the sky without a spot, and the earthso sunk in a blue bath that all objects seemed blue. Antea had givendirections to bear her out and place her under the favoritepistachio-tree, so that from the elevation on which the tree stood shemight delight herself with the view of the blue and gladsome distance.

  Cinna and Timon did not move a step from the litter, and watched theface of the sick woman carefully. There was in it a certain alarm ofexpectation, but it was not that mortal fear which used to seize her atthe approach of midday. Her eyes cast a more lively light, and hercheeks bloomed with a slight flush. Cinna thought indeed at moments thatAntea might recover; and at this thought he wanted to throw himself onthe ground, to sob from delight, and bless the gods. Then again hefeared that that was perhaps the last gleam of the dying lamp. Wishingto gain hope from some source, he glanced every little while at Timon;but similar thoughts must have been passing through his head, for heavoided Cinna's glances. None of the three mentioned by a word thatmidday was near. But Cinna, casting his eyes every moment at theshadows, saw with beating heart that they were growing shorter andshorter.

  And he sat as if sunk in thought. Perhaps the least alarmed was Anteaherself. Lying in the open litter, her head rested on a purple pillow;she breathed with delight that pure air which the breeze brought fromthe west, from the distant sea. But before midday the breeze had ceasedto blow. The heat increased; warmed by the sun, the pepperwort of thecliffs and the thickets of nard began to give out a strong andintoxicating odor. Bright butterflies balanced themselves over bunchesof anemones. From the crevices of the rocks little lizards, alreadyaccustomed to that litter and those people, sprang out, one after theother, confident as usual, and also cautious in every movement. Thewhole world was enjoying that serene peace, that warmth, that calmsweetness and azure drowsiness.

  Timon and Cinna seemed also to dissolve in that sunny rest. The sickwoman closed her eyes as if a light sleep had seized her; and nothinginterrupted that silence except sighs, which from time to time raisedher breast.

  Meanwhile Cinna noticed that his shadow had lost its lengthened form andwas lying there under his feet.

  It was midday.

  All at once Antea opened her eyes and called out in a kind of strangevoice,--

  "Caius, give me thy hand."

  He sprang up, and all the blood was stiffened to ice in his heart. Thehour of terrible visions had come.

  Her eyes opened wider and wider.

  "Dost thou see," said she, "how light collects there and binds the air;how it trembles, glitters, and approaches me?"

  "Antea, look not in that direction!" cried Cinna.

  But, oh, wonde
r! there was no fear on her face. Her lips were parted;her eyes were gazing, and opening wider and wider; a certainimmeasurable delight began to brighten her face.

  "The pillar of light approaches me," said she. "See! that is he; that isthe Nazarene!--he is smiling. O Mild! O Merciful! The transfixed handshe stretches out like a mother to me. Caius, he brings me health,salvation, and calls me to himself."

  Cinna grew very pale, and said,--

  "Whithersoever he calls us, let us follow him."

  * * * * *

  A moment later, on the other side, on the stony path leading to thecity, appeared Pontius Pilate. Before he had come near, it was evidentfrom his face that he was bringing news, which, as a man of judgment, heconsidered a fresh, absurd invention of the ignorant and credulousrabble. In fact, while still at some distance, he began to call, wipingperspiration from his brow,--

  "Imagine to thyself, they declare that he has risen from the dead!"

  FOOTNOTES:

  [1] Styx.