'O great prophet! guess the name of him who has struck you.'

Then a horrible sport commenced. These robust and armed men, each struck in turn the fettered victim, broken by so many tortures, saying to him every time they struck him on the face:

'Can you guess this time who struck you?'

Jesus (and these were the only words that Genevieve heard him pronounce during the whole martyrdom), Jesus said in a voice of compassion, lifting to heaven his eyes still covered with the bandage:

'May God forgive them, they know not what they do.'

Such was the only plaint uttered, by the sufferer, and it was not even a plaint; it was a prayer he addressed to God, imploring pardon for his tormentors. The Romans, far from being appeased by this divine forbearance, redoubled their violences and outrages. Some wretches were base enough to spit in Jesus' face. Genevieve could no longer have supported the spectacle of these enormities, even if the gods had not put an end to it; she heard in the street a great tumult, and saw arrive Doctor Baruch, Jonas the banker, and Caiphus the high priest. Two men in their suite carried a heavy wooden cross, a little longer than the height of a man. At sight of this instrument of torture, the persons waiting outside the gate of the guard-house, and amongst whom was Genevieve, cried in a triumphant voice:

'Here's the cross at last! here's the cross!'

'A cross quite new and worthy of a king!'

'And as a king, the Nazarene will not say he is treated as a beggar!'

When the Romans heard it announced that the cross was brought, they seemed very vexed that their victim was about to escape them. Jesus, however, at the words 'Here's the cross! here's the cross!' rose up with a sort of relief, hoping, no doubt, soon to bid adieu to this world. The soldiers uncovered his eyes, drew off the red cloak, only leaving the crown of thorns upon his head, so that he remained half naked; he was thus conducted to the door of the guard-room, where he was met by the men who were carrying the cross. Doctor Baruch, Jonas the banker, and Caiphus, in their still unsatisfied hatred, exchanged triumphant looks—pointing to the young man of Nazareth, pale, bleeding, and whose strength seemed exhausted.—These merciless pharisees could not resist the cruel pleasure of once more outraging the victim. The banker Jonas said to him: