him: "Thou sayest truly there is no such thing as sin. I have never dissected a human body (as some have done in Alexandria) but I have dissected apes and cattle, and in none of these (either in any of the organs or in the chinks between those organs) was there ever any sin."

Said the first philosopher, "Thou talkest as a fool. Thoughtest thou to find sin in the shape of a thing to be caught between the fingers and pinched? Is sin a gall-stone? Is it a solid concretion of the stomach? Is it any secernment at all, or excretion, or any kind of flesh or piece of bone? Pah! There is no sin-in that thou speakest truly-but thou shouldest know metaphysic to be able to prove it. What sayest thou, Compotor? Is there such a thing as sin?"

Yet it is also

"Yes," said the man so spoken unto, "I say that there is sin. Let be a moment, and I will-hic-enlighten thee. Now, if I do a wrong to thee, that is an offense, a damage, unto thee. a crime unto the state, and a sin unto God. So I say there is such a thing as sin. But what-hic-doth it matter? We can easily get rid of sin. A sacrifice or so; a white sheep, a good fat calf—all is well. And then we are free-hic-to sin again. Thou spakest even now of Jesus-"

"What sayest thou, Sarcogenes," said then the first philosopher, "is there any such thing as sin? Need any man a savior? Need he, in especial, Jesus-"

"No," cried the tall one in a voice of thunder. "Fools! Sin? Follow your own natures! Nature cannot mislead you. Your appetites will teach you rightness in all things. What is natural cannot be sinful, nay nor in anywise hurtful. Ye are all fools that ye do even discuss such matters."

But a fool in another corner saith unto them, "I had once a brother who followed his natural appetites, committing thereby both adultery and murder. Said he unto Pilate at his trial, 'Pardon: it was nature.' Said Pilate, 'It is also nature that I execute thee.' He is gone-a cross-why doth it darken?"

And there entered the wine-house one that cursed and gnashed his teeth, but, when he had seen Sarcogenes, became high respectful. Sarcogenes led him a little way apart. The two drank deeply at a table together.

"Thou art late," said then Sarcogenes, so that none other in the room might hear.

"I did try to follow thee for long," the man saith, "but ever and

again thou seemedst to dissolve into nothing. Even now came I hither by accident-to drown mine anger and my doubt."

"Thine anger-thy doubt!"

"Anger for that a certain Simon of Cyrene, for whose sake I had learned the whereabouts of a certain enemy of his, would not, when that I had brought him tidings back, consent to listen. Said he, 'I love that man.' What thinkest thou, that any man should love his enemy? And doubt-for that-this teacher-Jesus- Why dost thou look so strangely? Pray, be still-or look some other way from me. I cannot endure thee when thou lookest so."

Then whispered the lean and dark Sarcogenes in the man's very ear, saying unto him: "Be not deceived, Ardelio. This Jesus is solely a blasphemer (I know him well) and a raiser of sedition. He was tried for blasphemy (was he not?) condemned for sedition, and is now being executed therefor."

"His doctrines?"

"Folly."

"His miracles?"

"Magic."

"But thou thyself dost follow Jesus."

"Be not deceived: I do merely delude his disciples.-Hast thou had no pleasures since I saw thee last?"

"Yea. I have worshipped at Corinth and at Rhodes, and have had much pleasures of the flesh."

"It is well. Thou hast a true religion.-But Jesus-'Twas I that agged on that traitor, Judas-and for a reason." Here he filled the mind of Ardelio, the foolish busy-body, up, with terrible lies as against Jesus, the which he bade him spread with all industry both in the city of Jerusalem and likewise in all the other places of the world whatsoever, in which he might chance to be. And many of these lies are extant still.

And he gave him moneys, and called for much unwatered wine. And the twain drank in deep silence, while one of the nearby philosophers saith to another: "I tell thee Jesus was mad. He was an impostor withal. He expected that His followers would come and release Him from the cross (the which they will not do) although He surely did prophesy that He must die on the tree, then be buried, and so, after three days in the tomb, come up from the dead."

Said the second philosopher, "As for this Jesus, thou knowest I am flat against Him, but behold! I think Him a just man and one from on high."

"But what say the Greeks?"

"The Greeks? I will tell thee what the Greeks say. There was one Plato. Perchance thou knowest Plato. Hast heard of Platoand Socrates? Well, Socrates saith, 'We must of necessity wait until some one from Him who careth for us shall come and instruct us how we ought to behave toward God and toward man.' Hear now Plato: 'We cannot know of ourselves what petition will be pleasing to God and what worship we should pay to Him, but it is necessary that a law-giver should be sent from Heaven to instruct us. Oh, how greatly do I long to see that man! That law-giver must be more than man, that He may teach us the things man cannot know by his own nature.'”

"Then why believest thou not on Jesus, if thou holdest with these passages?"

"A sign!" he cried. "A sign from heaven. Ere I do believe, I must have some certain sign."

"A sign from heaven! Well said indeed!” cried Sarcogenes across the room. "I, too, would have had a sign from heaven. Had I had that a certain sign and straight from heaven-I too would, of a verity, have believed."

"There shall be no sign from heaven," said the other philosopher. "It is true," confirmed Sarcogenes. "For Jesus is an impostor. Therefore hath He not any sign from heaven.-But tell me (ye who will) is it indeed very dark? It is not the ninth hour-for I have listened to the slave at the near-by water clock. Even thy nose, O Ardelio, I scarce can perceive."

"It hath, for a great while, been dark," said the slattern, Cupiditas, keeper of the house, "but ye have not noticed, any of you. Drink deeper and forget the darkness."

Deeper they drank. And some of the sons of tumult vomited. One of the dull philosophers began, "A man there was that was seized on by the soldiers and made to bear Christ's cross."

"That is true," confirmed Ardelio, "and much offended was that man. I know him, a certain Simon, a priest that hath lost his genealogy. He was much offended."

"Nay," said the second philosopher, "offended was he not. I too did see him, and his face shone as he had seen in spirit a hallowed sign from heaven. I could not quite tell, but methought I heard the suffering Nazarene speak unto him-just one soft, sweet word. I could not quite tell, although I was close."

"There may have been magic in the word," suggested Ardelio. "In any case, when I did look upon Simon, methought he was greatly offended and would not have borne the cross for the world. A giant

too! He might have cleared an easy way before him, spite of a dozen soldiers."

Then said the first philosopher, "What God intends, that shall be done, spite of man's weakness or strength.' "But Jesus was not God."

Thus Ardelio.

"True," replied the first philosopher. "He was not God. But God-by which I mean the informing spirit of the universe-controlleth the actions of all men that be-impostors, priests with no longer any genealogy, eke philosophers, governors, rich men and beggars and farmers, tradesmen and thieves-Cæsar himself. Even the humble scarabæus as he rolleth his orb in the dust is in the hands of God."

Said one of the sons of tumult unto another, "Spurcus, what kind of dung wouldst thou handle most pleasurably wert thou a scarabæus!"

"Dung?" said softly Spurcus, considering with profundity: "I believe it were the dung of a cow. Yea, the dung of a cow would it- I am sure-sure it would be the dung of a cow."

"So would not I," said the asker.

"Well, what then?" asked Spurcus.

"The dung of a goat. Not the dung of a horse, nor the dung of a cow, but the dung of an old he-goat."

"Well, well: what's difference. Now, see here, thou art Obscenus and I Spurcus. I tell thee plainly the dung of a cow is pleasant perfume by the side of the dung of a goat."

"And I tell thee plainly I would roll my balls from the dung of a goat, for this very reason that it is a goat's foul dung, and stinketh. Now, therefore. Let us be reasonable."

"Reasonable?" shouted Spurcus. "I call upon thee, Sordesthou art a fair man and a clean. Now see here. I cannot quite remember. Listen to me."

He ceased to speak and arose. His eyes took on the look of one studying a thing far off. He raised a hand to his forehead, then touched his lips.

All at once he vomited, with great force, clear across the room. "Knew it was coming," cried out Sordes, as his rare foreknowledge were a miracle. "Let us go, all."

He started away, but Spurcus lifted cup again and would have drunken, but that the room of a sudden swayed, as the mighty world all at once had gone to sea. The goblet fell. A sound of groaning came from deep down within the foundations.

Spurcus, the vomiter, cried: "Jesus, thou diest, I not beside

thee. I meant to be beside thee. O Jesus, that diest to save men from their sins!"

He rushed into the street, his companions, laughing mightily, close after him.

One of the dull philosophers saith in a low voice, “An earthquake." But Sarcogenes rebuked him mightily, saying: "We are all drunk: there is no earthquake but the surging of sour wine."

It quaked once more. The ceiling rent asunder, the floor gapped. Then cried both philosophers, "It is an earthquake! What God intendeth to do shall be done, spite of man's weakness or strength."

Sarcogenes laughed so that his voice was heard above the louder and louder groaning rocks. He scoffed, saying: "Thinkest thou that even God can overcome the Devil? Why, then, doth He not so? There is no earthquake.-No, by the very heart of Satan, God cannot overcome him. By the very soul of Satan, He shall not do so." The philosophers looked upon the man with terror, and cried: "How knewest thou? how knewest?"

Went Sarcogenes up anigh unto them, and peered into their faces, as he might behold all the evil in their hearts, or ere he answered. The men arose, and ran shrieking from the room.

And Cupiditas crept behind the curtain of a doorway. The man of evil, flinging her gold, departed.

And when he had gained the street, he sought for any to whom he might make evil suggestions concerning Jesus. But behold, the streets were void. And many of the houses had been riven by the earthquake.

He was suddenly seized by a pain around his heart. He set both hands above his breast, therefore, crying: "Art thou back again, pain, and worse than ever yet before?" His lofty bearing was suppressed, for he bowed to the ground in agony.

But after a time he arose again, wildly whispering: "And thou mightest have cured me, O Jesus."

Having wandered about the desolate streets for a certain time, he at length, moved by an impulse he did not understand, fared to the Gate of Damascus, and, having passed therethrough, faced northward, following the city wall.

CHAPTER XXVII

A GREAT SHADOW ON A GREAT SOUL

Now Simon of Cyrene was coming down the mount whereon he had beheld the crucifixion. And, as he came, he recalled the many