"Lead the way," said the haughty Rebekah, scorning to answer such base reasoning, hating to place herself in the hands of so mean a man, yet maddened by her insane desire to obtain speech of Lazarus.
They walked along in silence, Judas full of subtle thoughts, partly remorse, partly hate, but chiefly fear. What if the disciples should turn upon him and slay him? What if Jesus were indeed the Son of God?
So swift and silent was their course through the deserted, moonlit streets that less than twenty minutes brought them to the door of the house in which the supper had been held. Here a man from Caiaphas waited for news from Judas. Both drew back into the darkness when the white, majestic form came out, and the pure, impassioned face of the Nazarene was raised sadly to the moon. So serenely beautiful was He that both could but catch their breath at sight of Him. Lazarus was following the little throng by the backways of Jerusalem when a man suddenly plucked him by the sleeve and murmured: "One thou knowest would have speech with thee; follow me."
Lazarus hesitated, swayed by many doubts. He was loath to separate himself from the little band that accompanied the Christ. To lose Him that night was perhaps never again to see Him alive, or perchance, to miss the legacy of some last word of recommendation; for Lazarus knew that, however devoted were His disciples, they were but illiterate fishermen, most of them; and that it would be he himself, as a ruler and a man of position, besides
