Page:SermonsFromTheLatins.djvu/254

 defence, and  no  sooner  does  He  open  His  mouth  to reply  than  a  vile  miscreant  rushes  at  Him  from  the crowd, and  deals  Him  a  resounding,  staggering  blow in the  face. Shame, not  for  Himself  but  for  His  assailant, sends  the  hot  blood  to  His  sacred  face  and  out through the  wound  He  has  received,  and  He  bows down His  head,  resolved,  from  that  moment,  to  endure all  in  silence. But His  silent  submission  only maddens them  the  more. They blindfold  and  buffet Him and  spit  in  His  face. One by  one  these  brutal men come  before  Him,  bowing  low  in  mock  reverence and  haiKng  Him,  in  tones  of  assumed  homage, as their  king;  and  then  return  to  mingle  with  the crowd that  stands  around,  and  make  the  courtyard ring again  with  their  laughter  at  the  savage  humor  of the  scene. While this  fiendish  jest  is  going  on  within, outside is  heard  the  mighty  roar  of  the  surging  mob calling on  Pilate  to  pronounce  the  death-sentence. But Pilate  hesitates;  he  knows  the  man  is  innocent; his wife  has  dreamed  a  dream  of  dire  calamity  to  come should He  be  condemned;  and  as  he  looks  down  from his balcony  into  the  courtyard,  even  his  heart  thrills with pity  for  the  poor  forlorn  prisoner. " Friends," he cries,  "  this  man  is  innocent." " No,"  they  answer, " He  is  guilty  and  He  is  an  apostate  and  a  traitor,  and unless  you  sentence  Him  we  will  denounce  you  to Caesar." " But,"  he  insists,  "  I  cannot  be  responsible for  an  innocent  man's  death." " His  blood,"  they cry, "  His  blood  be  upon  us  and  upon  our  children." "Take," he  begs,  "take  the  felon  Barabbas  and  hang him  but  spare  the  Christ." But they  roar  back: