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 the instant came a serving maid from his wife and whispered in his ear, what I know not, but a warning I am sure, with some touch of superstition in it, for the pallor of his cheek was heightened and he straightened for a moment as though one had stuck a knife in him. Again he turned and pleaded earnestly for the life of the man. It was sickening!

A Roman and a Procurator pleading with this rabble and yet, by Hercules, had I not had more spirit than Pilate to let them nag him thus, I myself would have pleaded for this noble piece of man flesh ere I had seen it tottering to the cross. I, too, would have sued upon my knees for his life, but the fiends would not be denied. Pilate grew more embarrassed. At length he called for water and a basin. The Jews clamoured. Jesus looked on. The water trickled through the Roman fingers and splattered on the pavement, washing out the stain of one of the Nazarene's footsteps. Pilate, too, was seeking to wash from his heart the stain of giving up to death an innocent man for political reasons. Marcus, I am not squeamish. I might sell a man or a race of men to death to make more secure the power of Rome, but by my father's ancient shrines, I swear that I could not have found it in my heart to give this man up to death, though the throne of the Cæsars themselves would be saved from falling thereby. Pilate hath often thanked God before for endowing him with few compunctions, and now, he doubtless does so again.

To me, the details of the crucifixion. From out the tower, they bring me a cross, ugly with rusty nails, to which were hanging rags of dried flesh and were preparing it for him. But I said no and made them bring out a