men, the taunts and coldness of women, no better, nay, worse than herself, would remind the Magdalene of that thoughtless past of wantonness and passion. Years of endless writhing torture lay before her, a weary battling against man's proffered love and woman's jealousy and hardness, till welcome death should come to free the hunted being.
"This is the Magdalene, my friend," said the Virgin's gentle voice; a voice that came from one who knew that the Magdalene's fame could not be damaged by the friendship of one whose love par- took of the divine, and, like that of Jesus clung to the one loved alike through good report and evil.
With rough courtesy, the soldier bowed before the majestic form of purity incarnate.
"One to whom the immaculate Mary of Nazareth hath given shelter is safe from all men."
With infinite sweetness the Virgin answered the rough soldier: "I thank thee, proud Roman, for thy kindly words; may it be so done unto thee and more." Then wrapping her cloak around her, so as almost to cover her face, she again addressed him: "If thy orders are to convey us to Caiaphas we must obey."
Then, in the cold, grey light of dawn, the two women were conveyed outside. But, when the soldier was about to assist the Virgin to mount the horse that was to convey her, the Magdalene stepped forward.
"Forgive me, brave soldier," she interprosed, "but no man hath ever laid hands on this woman of all women. Wilt permit me to help her on the horse?"
