fury, and his frenzy and confusion gave no little pleasure to the assembled crowd of envious priests.
Then, as if to give Caiaphas the one last chance that had been offered Judas—while eternal salvation hovered around the little crowd, and the High Priest quaked with the fear that some might fall in sudden remorse and awakening at the feet of Jesus—He spoke once more: "Hereafter ye shall see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven."
It was as if, in His all-embracing mercy, He had said: "Do not think because ye see Me here in bonds, a lonely, weary man, that it will be always thus. Pause, pause and consider that, one day, you will all see Me again in power, and ye will remember the lowly carpenter who appealed to you in meekness."
But Caiaphas, perturbed beyond endurance, almost to madness, paced the room, tearing his clothes and exclaiming excitedly, in order to veil his perturbation: "He hath spoken blasphemy; what further need have ye of witnesses, behold, now ye have heard His blasphemy."
And so the words that Caiaphas had yearned to hear had been pronounced at last, and one drop more of the bitter cup had been drunk.
But something more than the words of the Nazarene disturbed the equanimity of the High Priest. There was an inexplicable feeling in the air, as though the demons of darkness had been let loose, and the ghosts of supernatural beings came and went; nor could he decide whether it was fancy or sensation. The hours seemed to have halted in
