"What is of importance?"
"The words of the Master. What said he that did hold together the crowd, that did bring tears to the scarred face of the slave and that did drive them away again with a glad light?"
"I know not. My eyes were too busy to give my ears a chance. At the portico a chariot and horses were waiting, such as the Romans drive. Mighty were their necks, and gorgeous were their trappings. Before the chariot the woman removed her dull coat and gave place to one like her jewels; and the scarred slave did show her great homage, as if she were a queen. When she was seated in the chariot he questioned her, and Mary—my sister Mary—who thinkest thou this gorgeous woman is?"
"Of the many gorgeous ones in Jerusalem, why asketh thou?"
"There is but one such in Jerusalem."
"Who is the woman?"
"The words she did speak, I will tell thee. Then wilt thou know. To the scarred slave she said, 'Drive thou to the Praetorium. Thy Lord Pilate awaits thy mistress Claudia.'"
"Thou hast seen Pilate's wife!" and Mary's voice was alive with interest.
"Yea, the wife of that vile heathen who sticketh spears into Israelites, as a bold child picks wings from flies—for no reason save to see them kick."
"And the wife of Pilate hath looked on the face of Jesus. Her ear hath heard the words of him who speaks as never man hath spoken."