When the Nazarene made his appearance, I was walking in my basilic, and my feet seemed fastened with an iron chain to the marble pavement, and I trembled in every limb as a culprit; while he was calm—the Nazarene, calm as innocence. When he came up to me he stopped and by a sign seemed to say, “I am here.” For awhile I contemplated with admiration and awe this extraordinary type of man unlike the many painters who have given a form and figure to all the gods and heroes.

“Jesus,” said I to him at length, and my tongue faltered, “Jesus of Nazareth, I have granted you for the last three years, ample freedom of speech, nor do I regret it. Your words are those of a sage. I know not whether you have read Socrates and Plato; but this I do know that there is in your discourses a majestic simplicity that elevates you far above these philosophers. The emperor is informed of it, and I, his humble representative in this country, am glad of having allowed the liberty of which you are so worthy. However, I must not conceal from you that your discourses have raised up against you powerful and inveterate enemies. Nor is this surprising. Socrates had his enemies, and he fell a victim to their hatred. Yours are doubly incensed against you, on account of your sayings and on account of the liberty extended towards you. They even accuse me of being indirectly leagued with you for the purpose of depriving the Hebrews of the little civil power which Rome has left them. My request—I do not say my order—is, that you be more circumspect in the future, and more tender in arousing the pride of your enemies, lest they raise against you the stupid populace, and compel me to employ the instruments of justice.”

The Nazarene calmly replied: “Prince of the earth, your words proceed not from true wisdom. Say to the torrent, stop, in the midst of the mountain home, because it will uproot the trees of the valley. The torrent will answer you that it must obey the laws of the Creator. God alone knows whither flows the torrent. Verily, I say unto you, before the roses of Sharon blossom the blood of the just shall be spilt.

“Your blood shall not be spilt,” replied I, with emotion. “You are more precious in my estimation, on account of your wisdom, than all the turbulent and proud Pharisees, who abuse the freedom granted them by the Romans, conspire against Caesar