by Eugène Sue
‘Oh! dear mistress!’ exclaimed Genevieve, ‘I shall never forget the confidence you and your friend place in me; try at once to open the door of the prison.’
‘Wait a moment, for before deciding we must think of the rage of my husband. It is not for myself I fear, but for you. When you return here, poor Genevieve, judge from what you have suffered what you will still have to suffer!’
‘Think not of me!’
‘We have thought of it, on the contrary. Listen again: the nurse of my friend lives near the Judicial gate; she sells woolen cloths and her name is Veronica, the wife of Samuel: shall you remember these names?’
‘Yes, yes, Veronica, wife of Samuel, cloth vendor, near the Judicial gate. But, dear mistress, let us haste, the hour advances; every hour lost might be fatal to the young man. Oh! I entreat you, try to open the street door.’
‘No, not at least until I have told you where you may find refuge; it will be impossible for you to return here, for I tremble at the treatment to which my husband would subject you.’
‘What! quit you forever?’
‘Would you rather submit to an infamous punishment again, and perhaps worse tortures?’
‘I would much rather prefer death to such disgrace!’
‘My husband will not kill you because you are worth money. This separation is therefore indispensable; it costs me dear, because never, perhaps, shall I find a slave in whom I have such confidence as you; but what would you? Since I have listened to the words of this young man, I share the enthusiasm he has inspired in Jane; and will try to save him....’
‘Can you doubt it, dear mistress?’
‘No, I know your devotedness and your courage. This, then, is what you must do; if you succeed in finding the young man of Nazareth, you will apprise him that he is betrayed by Judas, one of his disciples, and that he has only to fly from Jerusalem to escape the pharisees; they have sworn his death! Jane thinks that by retiring to Galilee, his native country, Mary’s son will be saved, for his cowardly enemies would not dare to follow him there.’
‘But, dear mistress, even here, at Jerusalem, he has only to-night to call the people to his defence, his disciples, by whom he is adored, will put themselves at the head of the revolt, and all the pharisees in the world would not be able to arrest him!’
‘Jane had also thought of this plan; but that he might raise the people in his favor, either Jesus or his disciples must be apprised of the danger which menaces him.’
‘Consequently, dear mistress, we have not a moment to lose.’
‘Listen once more, poor Genevieve: you forget the perils that surround you! When, therefore, you have warned the young man, or one of his disciples, you will repair to Veronica’s, Samuel’s wife; you will tell her that you came from Jane, and as a proof of the truth you will give her this ring, which my friend drew from her finger; you will beg Veronica to conceal you in her house, and go immediately to Jane’s, who will instruct her as to what she and I intend doing for you.
‘Veronica,’ said my friend to me, ’is kind and obliging; to the young Nazarene she and her husband owe a debt of gratitude, because he cured one of their children; you will therefore be safely concealed in their house until Jane and I have decided upon something respecting you. This is not all, in this packet I have brought your disguise as a young man, which I have just taken from the room in which you sleep; it will be more prudent to put on these garments of a man. It will be safer whilst running about the streets of Jerusalem at night and entering the tavern of the Wild Ass.’
‘Dear, dear mistress, always kind, you think of all.’
‘Hasten to dress yourself. In the mean time, I will go and see if it is possible to open the street door.’
CHAPTER V.
AURELIA, HAVING QUITTED the low room, returned in a few minutes and found Genevieve dressed as a young man and buckling the leather belt of her tunic.
‘It is impossible to open the door!’ said Aurelia in despair to her slave; ‘the key is not within the lock where it is usually left.’
‘Dear mistress, come,’ said Genevieve, ‘let us try again. Come, quick.’
And the two, after crossing the court, arrived at the street door. The efforts of Genevieve were as vain as those of her mistress had been to open it. She had surmounted one of the half arches, but without a ladder it was impossible to reach the opening. Suddenly Genevieve remarked to Aurelia:
‘I have read in the family narratives left by Fergan, that one of his ancestresses, named Meroe, the wife of a sailor, had, by the help of her husband, been enabled to mount a high tree.’
‘By what means?’
‘Just lean your back against this door, dear mistress; now, enlace your two hands in such a way that I can place my foot in their hollow; I will next place the other on your shoulder, and perhaps thus I shall be enabled to reach the arch, and from thence I will endeavor to descend into the street.’
Suddenly the slave heard at a distance the voice of Seigneur Gremion from the upper story, call out in an angry tone:
‘Aurelia! Aurelia!’
‘My husband,’ exclaimed the young wife trembling.
‘Oh! Genevieve, you are lost!’
‘Your hands! your hands! dear mistress; if I can only reach to this opening, I am saved.’
Aurelia obeyed almost mechanically, for the menacing voice of the Seigneur Gremion drew nearer and nearer.
The slave, after having placed one of her feet in the hollow of the two hands of her mistress, rested her other foot lightly on her shoulder, thus reached the opening, contrived to place herself on the thickness of the wall, and rested for a few moments kneeling under the half arch.
‘But in jumping into the street,’ suddenly exclaimed Aurelia in fear, ‘you will hurt yourself, poor Genevieve.’
At this moment arrived the Seigneur Gremion, pale, enraged, and holding a lamp in his hand.
‘What are you doing there?’ he cried, addressing his wife; ‘reply! reply!’
Then perceiving the slave kneeling above the door, he added:
‘Ah! wretch! you would escape, and ’tis my wife who favors your flight?’
‘Yes,’ replied Aurelia courageously, ‘yes; and should you kill me on the spot, she shall escape your ill treatment.’
Genevieve, after looking down into the street from the elevation where she had crept, saw that she would have to jump twice her own length; she hesitated a moment, but hearing the Seigneur Gremion say to his wife, whom he had brutally shook by the arm to make her abandon the chain of the door to which she had clung:
‘By Hercules! will you let me pass? oh! I will get outside and wait for your miserable slave, and if she does not break her limbs in jumping into the street, I will break her bones!’
‘Try to get down and save yourself, Genevieve,’ cried Aurelia; ‘fear nothing, they shall trample me under foot before I open the door—’
Genevieve raised her eyes to heaven to invoke the gods, jumped from the arch above the door and was lucky enough to reach the ground without hurting herself. She remained however for a moment, stunned by the fall; she then rose up hastily and took to flight, her heart beating at the cries she heard proceeding from her mistress, who was being ill treated by her husband.
The slave, after running some way to get beyond her master’s house, stopped, breathless, to consider in what direction was situated the tavern of the Wild Ass, where she hoped to hear of the young man of Nazareth, whom she wished to warn of the danger that menaced him. At this tavern she learnt that some hours before he had gone, with several of his disciples, towards the river Cedron, to a garden planted with olive trees, where he often repaired at night to meditate and pray.
Genevieve ran hastily to this place. The moment she had passed the gate of the city, she saw in the distance the light of several torches reflected on the helmets and armor of a great number of soldiers; they marched in disorder and uttered confused clamors.
The slave, fearing that they were s
ent by the pharisees to seize the Nazarene, commenced running in the hope of getting before them, perhaps, and in time to give the alarm to Jesus, or to his disciples. She was but a short distance from these armed men, whom she recognized as the Jerusalem militia, but little renowned for their courage, when by the glare of the torches they carried she noticed, away from the road but following the same direction, a narrow path bordered with firs. She took this road that she might not be seen by the soldiers, at the head of whom she observed Judas, the disciple of the young man whom she had seen at the tavern of the Wild Ass one of the preceding nights. He was then saying to the officer of the men, who commanded the escort:
‘Seigneur, he whom you see me embrace will be the Nazarene.’
‘Oh! this time,’ replied the officer, ‘he shall not escape us; and to-morrow, before sunset, the rebel will have suffered the punishment due to his crimes. Let us hasten, let us hasten; some of his disciples might have given him notice of our arrival. Let us also be very prudent, for fear of falling into an ambush, and let us also be very prudent when we are on the point of seizing the Nazarene: he might employ against us magical and diabolical ways. If I recommend prudence to you,’ added the officer to his men, in a valorous tone, ‘’tis not that I fear danger, but ’tis to secure the success of our enterprise.’
The soldiers did not appear greatly reassured by these words of their officer and slackened their march, from a fear, no doubt, of some ambush. — Genevieve profited by this circumstance and, still running, she arrived at the borders of the river of Cedron. Not far from thence she perceived a small hill, planted with olives; this wood, buried in the shade, was scarcely distinguishable from the darkness of the night. She listened, all was silent; nothing was heard but the measured tread of the soldiers as they slowly approached. Genevieve had a momentary hope, thinking that, perhaps, the young man of Nazareth, warned in time, had quitted this place. She advanced cautiously in the obscurity, when she stumbled against the body of a man stretched beneath an olive tree. She could not restrain a cry of fear, whilst the man against whom she had stumbled suddenly awoke and said: ‘Master, pardon me but this time again; I could not overcome the sleep that invaded me.’
‘A disciple of Jesus!’ exclaimed the slave, once more alarmed. ‘He is here, then?’
Then addressing the man: ‘Since you are a disciple of Jesus, save him: there is still time. See those torches in the distance; listen to the confused murmurs! They approach; they will take him, they will kill him. Save him, save him, oh, save him!’
‘Who,’ inquired the disciple, still half unconscious with sleep; ‘who is it they would kill? Who are you?’
‘No matter to you who I am; but save your master, I tell you: they are coming to seize him. The soldiers advance. See you those torches yonder?’
‘Yes,’ replied the disciple in a surprised and alarmed tone and now completely waking up: ‘I see in the distance some helmets, sparkling from the light of the torches. But,’ he added, looking round, ‘where are my companions, then?’
‘Asleep, like yourself, perhaps,’ replied Genevieve. ‘And you have not strength enough to resist sleep?’
‘No, I and my companions struggled in vain; our master came twice to awake us, mildly reproaching us for thus sleeping. He then went once more to meditate and pray under the trees.’
‘The militia men!’ exclaimed Genevieve on seeing the light of the torches approaching nearer and nearer. ‘They are here! He is lost, unless he remains concealed in the wood, or that you all die to defend him. Are you armed?’
‘We have no arms!’ replied the disciple, beginning to tremble; ‘and besides, to try to resist soldiers, ’tis madness!’
‘No arms!’ exclaimed Genevieve, very indignant. ‘Is there any need of arms? Are not the stones in the road? Is not courage sufficient to crush these men?’
‘We are not men of the sword,’ said the disciple, looking round him with uneasiness, for the soldiers were already near enough for their torches to throw a light on Genevieve, the disciple and several of his companions, whom she then perceived, here and there, still asleep under the trees. They suddenly awoke at the voice of their comrade, who called them, going from one to the other.
The soldiers hastened in a tumult, seeing, from the light of the torches, several men; some still reclining, others rising, others again on their feet, rushed upon them, menacing them with their swords and sticks, for some were only armed with sticks, and all cried out:
‘Where is the Nazarene? Tell us, Judas, where is he?’
The traitor, and infamous disciple, after having examined by the light of the torches his ancient companions, detained prisoners, said to the officer:
‘The young master is not amongst these.’
‘Will he escape us this time?’ exclaimed the officer.
‘By the pillars of the temple! you promised to deliver him to us, Judas: you have received the price of his blood; you must deliver him to us, Judas!’
Genevieve had kept aloof; suddenly she saw a few paces off, towards the olive wood, a white form, which issuing from the darkness, approached slowly towards the soldiers. The heart of Genevieve almost broke; it was no doubt the young Nazarene, attracted by the noise of the tumult. — She was not deceived. Presently she recognized Jesus; on his sad and gentle features she read neither fear nor surprise.
Judas made a sign of intelligence to the officer, ran to meet the young man of Nazareth, and said, whilst embracing him,
‘Master, I kiss you.’
At these words one of the soldiers who were not occupied in detaining as prisoners the disciples, who in vain endeavored to fly, remembering the recommendations of their officer respecting the infernal sorceries that Jesus might employ against them, regarded him with fear, hesitating to approach in order to seize him; the officer himself kept behind the soldiers in order to excite them to seize Jesus, but did not approach him himself. Jesus, calm and thoughtful, made a few steps towards the armed men and said to them in his gentle voice:
‘Whom seek you?’
‘We seek Jesus,’ replied the officer, still keeping behind his soldiers:
‘We seek Jesus of Nazareth.’
‘I am he!’ said the Nazarene, making a step towards the soldiers. But the latter drew back frightened.
Jesus resumed: ‘Once more, whom is it you seek?’
‘Jesus of Nazareth!’ they all cried with one voice; ‘we wish to take Jesus of Nazareth!’ and they again drew back.
‘I have already told you that I am he,’ replied the young man, going to them; ‘and since you seek me, take me, but allow these to go,’ he added, pointing to his disciples still retained as prisoners.
The officer made a sign to the soldiers who did not seem as yet completely reassured; they approached Jesus, however, to bind him, whilst he said to them mildly: ‘You came here armed with swords and sticks to take me, as if I were a malefactor, and yet, I sat amidst you every day in the temple, praying, and you did not arrest me.’
Then, of himself, he tendered his hands to the cords with which they bound him. The cowardly disciples of the young man had not had the courage to defend him; they dared not even accompany him to his prison; and the moment they were released by the soldiers, they fled on all sides. A mournful smile crossed the lips of Jesus, when he found himself thus betrayed and abandoned by those he had so loved, and whom he believed his friends.
Genevieve, hidden by the shade of an olive tree, could not restrain tears of grief and indignation on seeing these men so miserably abandon Jesus; she comprehended why the doctors of the law and the high priests, instead of arresting him in open day, had arrested him during the night; they feared the rage of the people and of the resolute men like Banaias; these would not have allowed him to be carried off without resistance, the friend of the poor and the afflicted.
The soldiers quitted the olive wood, having their prisoner in the midst of them; they directed their steps towards the town.
After som
e time Genevieve perceived that a man, whose features she could not distinguish in the darkness, was walking behind her, and she frequently heard the man sigh and sob.
After entering Jerusalem through the deserted and silent streets, as they are at that hour of the night, the soldiers repaired to the house of Caiphus, the high priest, where they conducted Jesus. The slave, remarking at the door of this house a great many servants, glided among them as the soldiers entered, and remained at first beneath the vestibule lighted by torches. By this light she recognized the man who, like herself, had followed the friend of the oppressed since he left the wood; it was Peter, one of his disciples. He appeared as much grieved as alarmed, the tears streaming down his face; Genevieve thought at first that one at least of his disciples would be faithful to him and he would show his devotedness by accompanying Jesus before the tribunal of Caiphus. Alas! the slave was deceived. Scarcely had Peter crossed the threshold of the door, when, instead of joining Mary’s son, he sat down on one of the benches of the vestibule, amongst the servants of Caiphus, burying his face in his hands.
Genevieve then seeing, at the extremity of the court, a strong light escaping from a door beyond which pressed the soldiers of the escort, approached them. The door was that of a hall in the middle of which was erected a tribunal lighted by a number of flambeaux. Seated behind this tribunal, she recognized several of the persons she had seen at the supper given by Pontius Pilate; the Seigneurs Caiphus, the high priest; Baruch, doctor of law; Jonas, the banker, were among the judges of the young man of Nazareth. He was conducted before them; his hands bound, his features still calm, gentle and sad; a short distance from him were the officers of the court, and behind these, mixed with the soldiers and the servants of Caiphus, the two mysterious emissaries whom Genevieve had remarked at the tavern of the Wild Ass. Inasmuch as the countenance of the friend of the afflicted was serene and dignified, so did those of his judges appear violently irritated; they expressed the joy of a disgraceful triumph; they spoke in a low tone and from time to time they pointed with a menacing gesture to Mary’s son, who patiently awaited his interrogatory.
