murmured. The horse was flecked with foam, and the man's brow dripped with sweat. The clinking chains of the heavy Roman bridle gleamed in the sun, yet shone not brighter than the sleek flanks of the horse or the crest of the soldier's helmet. But it was no respite for the condemned God he brought.
He cried out: "Lazarus, Lazarus, find Lazarus. The Governor hath need of him."
No sign of terror blanched the face of Lazarus, when, in reverent imitation of his Master, he stepped forward, saying boldly: "I am he."
"His hour hath come," said Martha, her stern brow growing even whiter than before, her strong mouth hardening with dull resignation.
The mute agony in the eyes of the women wrung his heart. So soon! Before the crowd had slaked their thirst with the blood of one, to demand another's! The blow had fallen; both in one day would hang upon the cross. The last act of the drama had begun; better almost that it should be so than this constant scraping of the heart-strings.
Gravely, even solemnly, his sisters kissed him. The Magdalene, distracted as she was with grief, could only stretch out her hands and cry: "Lazarus, my love, my life." And when, with a breaking heart, Lazarus turned to obey the Governor's command, he saw her borne away by helpful arms, her golden hair that was almost trailing in the dust, glowing like a halo of glory round her head.
And, while he walked by the side of the soldier's horse, the multitude, weary already of witnessing the agony of the Nazarene, cried out: "He too will be crucified this day!"
No cheerful cry to end a day of mourning.
