'What can they complain of?' replied the other executioner; 'we are so much at our ease on a cross, with our arms extended, for all the world like a man stretching himself after a long nap!'
Jesus made no reply; he stripped off his garments, placed himself on the instrument of death, extended his arms on the cross, and turned toward heaven his eyes drowned in tears.
Genevieve then saw the two executioners kneel on each side of the young man of Nazareth, and seize their long nails and heavy hammers. The slave closed her eyes, but she heard the dull sounds of the hammers, as they drove the nails into the living flesh, whilst the two crucified thieves continued their cries. The blows of the hammer ceased—Genevieve opened her eyes: the cross to which they had attached the Nazarene had just been erected between those of the two crucified thieves. Jesus, his head crowned with thorns, his long chestnut hair glued to his temples by a mixture of blood and sweat, his face livid and impressed with fearful agony, his lips blue; seemed about to expire; the whole weight of his body resting on his two hands nailed to the cross, as also his feet, from whence the blood trickled; his arms stiffened by violent convulsive movements, whilst his knees, half bent, occasionally knocked against each other. Genevieve then heard the almost dying voice of the two thieves who, addressing Jesus, said to him: 'Cursed be thou, Nazarene! cursed be thou, who told us that the first should be last, and the last first? Behold us crucified, what can'st thou do for us?'
'Cursed be thou, who told us that they alone who were sick had need of the physician: behold us ill; where is the physician?'
'Cursed be thou who told us that the good shepherd abandons his flock to find a single sheep that has strayed! we have strayed, and thou, the good shepherd, leave us in the hands of butchers.'
And these wretched men were not the only ones to insult the agony of Jesus; for, horrible as it is, and which Genevieve whilst writing this can hardly believe, Doctor Baruch, Jonas the banker, and Caiphus the high priest, joined the two thieves in assailing and outraging Jesus, at the moment he was about to render up his soul.
'Oh! Jesus of Nazareth! Jesus the Messiah! Jesus the prophet? Jesus, the Savior of the world!' said Caiphus: 'how was it you did not prophesy your own fate? Why did you not commence by saving yourself, you who were to save the world?'
'You call yourself the son of God, O Nazarene the divine!' added the banker Jonas: 'we will believe in your celestial power if you descend from your cross. We only ask of you this little prodigy! Come, son of God, descend! descend then! Ah! you prefer resting nailed on that beam, like a bird of night at a barn-door? Free thyself: you might be called Jesus the crucified, but never Jesus the son of God!'
'You appear to have much confidence in the Almighty!' added Doctor Baruch: 'call on him then to assist you! If he protects you, if you are really his son, why does he not thunder against us, your murderers? Why does he not change this cross into a bed of roses, from whence you could fly in a glory to heaven?'
The shouts and jests of the soldiers accompanied these disgraceful outrages of the pharisees; suddenly Genevieve saw Jesus stiffen in all his limbs, make a last effort to lift up his bleeding and wearied head to heaven: a last ray seemed to illumine his celestial expression; a heart-rending smile contracted his lips, and he murmured in a faint voice: 'My God! my God! take pity on me!'