'Yes,' said Baruch, 'call him.'
'Here! Simon!' cried the emissary; 'here! Simon the Cyrenean! you who took part in the predictions of the Nazarene, come now, and take part in the burthen he carries.'
Scarcely had the man Simon been recognized, than several amongst the crowd cried like him, 'Here, Simon! Simon!'
The latter, at the first appeal of the emissary, had quickened his march, as if he had heard nothing; but when a great number of voices cried out his name, he turned back, advanced to where Jesus was, and approached him with a troubled air.
'They are about to crucify Jesus of Nazareth, whose words you were so delighted to hear,' said the banker Jonas to him in a jesting manner; 'he is your friend, will you not help him to carry his cross?'
'I will carry it myself,' replied Simon, having the courage to look with an eye of pity on his young master, who, still kneeling, seemed ready to fall.
Simon, having taken up the cross, walked before Jesus, and the cortege pursued its route.
About a hundred paces further on, at the commencement of the street that leads to the Judicial Gate, in passing before the shop of a vendor of woolen cloths, Genevieve saw a woman of a venerable figure leave the shop. This woman, at the sight of Jesus, pale, exhausted and bleeding, could not restrain her tears; then, for the first time, the slave, who until now, had forgotten that she might be sought after by order of her master the Seigneur Gremion, remembered the address which her mistress Aurelia had given her on the part of Jane, telling her that Veronica, her nurse, keeping a shop near the Judicial Gate, could give her an asylum. But Genevieve at this moment did not think of profiting by this chance of safety. An unconquerable force attached her to the steps of the young man of Nazareth, whom she resolved to follow to the end. She then saw Veronica in tears approach Jesus, whose face was bathed in a bloody sweat, and wipe with a linen towel the face of the poor martyr, who thanked Veronica by a smile of celestial sweetness. A little farther on, and whilst in the street which led to the Judicial Gate, Jesus passed before several women who were weeping; he stopped a moment, and said to these women, with an accent of profound melancholy:
'Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me! but weep for yourselves, weep for your children; for there will come a time when it shall be said, "Blessed are the barren! Blessed are they who have no children! Blessed are they who have not given suck!"'
Then Jesus, though broken with suffering, drawing himself up with an air of inspiration, his features impressed with a heart-rending grief, as if he had a consciousness of the frightful miseries he foresaw, exclaimed, in a prophetic tone which made the pharisees themselves tremble: