"Calm thyself, most noble Claudia," the man said in quiet tones. "That which maketh the earth tremble until stones roll from the grave, is naught but the same power that piles still water into waves of rocking mountains and that breaks the cedars of the hills as if they were dead grass. Fear not."
"Thou sayest—but feel the rocking of the earth."
"Yea, it doth tremble. Yet hath it trembled before and will tremble again. In Thrace have I seen the earth shake open in yawning pits."
"But the sun is dark at midday! What meaneth it?"
"Something hath come between the sun and thy vision. The sun yet shineth."
"Nay! Nay! Even the sun doth darker, its face in shame that the Jew, that just man, should be hung upon a cross to die! Oh, Pilate! Pilate! How could you?"
While they were speaking the darkness lightened and two soldiers crossed the road. When they reached the skeleton whose white outlines could be dimly seen in the gray light, they stopped suddenly.
"The dead come forth! Wherefore?" exclaimed one.
"Because this thing came of a race that knowest nothing, not even that it is dead." He kicked the skull which separated itself from the body and rolled toward him. Stopping it with his boot he said, "Aye, good Jew, art thou dead or alive? Speak!"
"He is lacking a tongue," and the second soldier laughed. The first ran his sword through the ribs of the skeleton and flinging it into the ravine kicked the skull after it.