'Comrades!' exclaimed one of the soldiers, bursting into a laugh, 'since he is king of the poltroons, let us crown him!'
This proposition was received with insulting joy; several voices immediately cried out:
'Yes, since he is king, we must invest him with the imperial purple.'
'We must put a sceptre in his hand; we will then proclaim him, and honor him like our august Emperor Tiberius.'
And whilst their companions continued to surround and insult the young Nazarene, indifferent to these outrages, several of the soldiers went out.—One took the red cloak of a horse soldier; another the cane of a centurion; a third remembering a heap of fagots intended to be burnt, lying in a corner, chose a few sprigs of a thorny plant, and began weaving a crown. Several voices then exclaimed:
'We must now proceed to crown the King of the Jews.'
'Yes, let us crown the king of the cowards!'
'The son of God!'
'The son of the god Fear!'
'Companions, this coronation must be performed with pomp, as if it concerned a real Cæsar.'