CHAPTER XLI.
PALE-FACED, excited, with dishevelled hair, Claudia rushed to her husband's room, with the news brought to her by the slaves.
"Hast heard? He is risen! He is risen!" she cried excitedly.
No need to give name, for Pilate, ever straight-forward, made no pretence of not knowing whom she meant. Yet no terror seized him; rather a look of triumph lit up his features.
"Is it even so?" he questioned calmly.
"Speakest thou thus?" exclaimed Claudia angrily; "dost not fear that some evil shall befall us for this thing?"
"Nay, I fear naught, for naught that can befall me can be worse than the dull ache which gnaweth at my heart, which will ache for evermore." Then, rising from his bench, he exclaimed in a changed tone: "Yet how knowest thou that this thing is true? How knowest thou not that either this Man's followers seek once more to bewitch the world, or that Caiaphas hath not some plot of base deceit with which he too would blind the eyes of the Jews? I will at once to my bath and go myself and see into this thing; and, if it be true, 't is I, Pilate, who will be the first to tell that priest of hell, and mark the grinning infamy of his foul smile of dread. Ah,
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