each anxious to use his ingenuity for his own ends, each reluctant to breathe, either in favour or disfavour, the name that lay nearest to the lips of both.
"Methinks Barabbas hath a great claim," said Caiaphas presently. "He hath lain long in prison, and for not so grievous a fault; for, though he slew the Pharisee, methinks he slew him but in self-defence."
"Thou growest merciful," said Pilate scornfully, irritated, he scarce knew why.
"'T is ever a priest's place to be merciful, inasmuch as he expecteth mercy," replied Caiaphas, in his dissembling unctuousness.
A flush of anger came over Pilate's face, and the words of the Nazarene recurred to him: "Woe unto ye, Pharisees, hypocrites." Then, pushing into the thickness of his own mental conflict, he went on: "What saith Annas? Doth he, too, recommend Barabbas?" He knew full well he had given Caiaphas the opening he desired, and had speeded the conversation in the turn he would fain have it take.
"Well, since thou askest me, noble Pilate," replied the priest, striving to make his voice indifferent as temperate, "Annas is not content only with the releasing of Barabbas; he would have further the Nazarene condemned at the Feast of the Passover."
"Does he, too, fear Him ?" asked Pilate with increasing scorn.
"None fear Him," replied Caiaphas, pretending to ignore the caustic remark. "None fear Him; but it is a law of the Jews that, if one call himself the Son of God, he shall die the death."
