University of Virginia Library

Scene VI.

Antechamber in the house of Ananias. Peter sits warming himself at a fire. Miriam, Rebecca, and Anna, waiting-maids of Ananias, move about conversing. Confused sound of voices from the hall within.
(Enter Mirza, excited and breathless).
Mirza.
Do you know what's happened? It's come off at last,
The great event we all have been predicting—
Jesus is seized.

Miriam.
Of course he is—he's here

(pointing to the inner chamber).
Mirza.
One woman struggled wildly with the soldiers—
('Twas Mary Magdalene, the courtesan;
You know her, girls—who in this town does not?)
Her face and neck were bleeding from their blows:
They flung her roughly aside, then pounced on Jesus;
The man resisted not,—not half a man,
I think—I would at least have scratched their eyes!
They bound him, led him here—you know the rest.

Anna.
And what of Mary?

Mirza.
Mary? She was left
Half lifeless on the ground; one soldier stooped
And once more struck her.

Rebecca.
Well, it served her right;
Who asked her help, I wonder? (Addressing Miriam)
Somewhat changed,
This woman, from the sunny-featured girl
Who by that crystal fount at Nazareth
Sang to us—you remember?

Miriam.
I remember.
In those old days she only saw the flowers
Beside the stream of love, but now she knows
That stream has waves blood-red . . and yet . . and yet . .
Rebecca, I could find it in my heart
To envy her—her life has been a dream
Of love and passion—all the world of man
Sighs at her feet.

Rebecca.
The dream is over now:
She loves, and love brings anguish.

Anna
(addressing Mirza and pointing to Peter).
Was not he
With Jesus?

Mirza.
Yes.

Miriam.
I know him. Oftentimes
I've seen the curious couple pass our door
—Oh! how my cheeks have ached with laughing at them—
Peter and Jesus—followed by a troop
Of girls I would not look at; jades whose faces
Would scare away the very boldest man,
So they must turn to the angels—last resource.
Well, it's all over now, their dream of heaven!
Better have let the next world quite alone
And spent a joyous time in this—what say you,
Rebecca?

Rebecca.
That you're right—I also have seen them.
You're right all round: I hold that life was given
To girls for pleasure—that God made the sun
Bravely to shine along their yellow hair
And turn the lustrous loose locks into gold;
The stars to give them light to find their lovers,
The sweetest flowers that lovers' tongues might say,
“No flower hath half the sweetness of your breath!”

Mirza.
Rebecca, you're poetic! If the sun
Can turn our lustrous loose locks into gold
It is that gold hair may be as a net
Wherein the eager hands of men may fling
Their gold and silver, jewels, and the like—
How I love trinkets!—If I were with Jesus
Oh he should work a miracle for me,
Change all the stars to jewels and hang them all
Round the smooth ivory pillar of my neck—
Then I would love him!

Anna.
I would love him too
If he would work a miracle for me,
Remove these freckles and this loathsome mole
That mars my neck's soft whiteness—look, it spreads
Its brown misshapen hideous patch just here—
Below my dress, that's fortunate, though Mirza,
There are occasions when—

Mirza.
The mole is seen.

Anna.
Yes: Japhet said the other night he thought
It was a crawling spider—how I hated
The mole and Japhet too!

Mirza.
Japhet's brown face
Would match the mole.

Anna.
Japhet's brown face! I think
His face is godlike; as to Ephraim's face
It's nothing better than a pimply mass.

Miriam.
Soft now, don't quarrel—let us ask this man,
This Simon Peter—Cephas, as they call him—
Let's ask him each in turn—don't let him hear
Our whispers—let us ask him each in turn
Whether he was with Jesus, 'twill be sport
To see him blush and stammer.
(To Peter).
Sir, were you
With Jesus? Surely I saw you in the garden?

Peter.
I was not in the garden.

Rebecca.
I have heard
That you are chief among this man's disciples?

Peter.
I am not of his followers.

Mirza.
But I saw
With my own eyes your right hand draw your sword
And with it strike good Malchus.

Peter.
Curse you, cease
Your chattering folly—I tell you once for all
I never knew the man.

Anna.
Hark! what an hour
For cocks to crow; this bird has sense to opine
That somewhat strange is stirring.

(Exit Peter).
Rebecca
(watching Peter from the window).
He's crying! What a soft-heart thing it is;
First lies to save repute—then sorry for it.
Come, girls—let's turn our thoughts towards cheerier swains
Than these disciples of a man whose eyes
Are girlish, Mirza, as yours, and not so bright,
Nor with that lurking flash of mischief in them.

Miriam.
They're bringing Jesus out—see, quick Rebecca!
How pale the poor soul looks! They'll take him now
Straight, doubtless, to the house of Caiaphas;
Let's follow and mark the end!

(Exeunt GIRLS, following the crowd that accompanies Jesus to the house of Caiaphas).