CHAPTER XXXVI.
UP and down paced Pilate in his private chamber, while the weary, bleeding figure of the Nazarene was tottering along the road to Golgotha. Never more while a breath remained in his body would peace be in his heart. Each day doubt would strengthen, till from it should be born conviction; when that should come no place on earth could hold him.
On his return to his house he had dreaded to meet his wife, yet the first person he met was she.
She had told him of her dreams, she had even sent a message to the Judgment chamber, knowing full well how, to obtain their end, the Jews would press him. She knew Pilate well enough to fear that his frank, intrepid nature would be ill-matched against the crafty subtlety of the law-versed Jews.
"Well?" she asked, without greeting him, in her excitement, "hast thou released Him? Where is He?"
"Oh, Claudia, Claudia, blame me not!" he said. "I could not. They would not. They prevailed with me, as those cursed Jews do ever."
" 'T is not true; it cannot be true!" shrieked Claudia.
"What is Truth? What is Truth?" murmured Pilate. "Would I knew the Truth."
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