In the meanwhile, at home, Martha had been diligently, and with strange cheerfulness, getting in readiness the room of Lazarus. She swept and dusted it, and garnished it with fresh flowers, which she gathered in the little garden.
"This is the rose he set out and loved. This is the violet which blooms immortal. I will place it upon his pillow," she said, with a joyous hilarity softened by the most lovely look of peace, while hope shone in her eyes like twin morning stars ushering in a glorious day. She spoke scarcely above her breath and moved on tiptoe.
"For whom is this preparation, dearest Martha? For Jesus?" I asked.
"Oh, no. The holy Prophet's own room is ready. Mary has prepared that. This is Lazarus' room, and I am decorating it for him."
"Dost thou truly believe that he is coming back from the dead?" I asked, between doubt and strange fear.
"Believe? Oh, yes! I know that nothing is impossible with Jesus! I doubt no more! My faith trembles no longer! He will raise up my brother, and this day he shall sit down at our table with us again, and this night rest his head in peaceful slumber upon this pillow which I am strewing with his favorite flowers. Never had house two such guests as we shall have this day—the Messias of God, and one come back alive from the dead!"
At this moment we heard the noise of the multitude passing by, and it being told us that Jesus was going to the grave, Martha, embracing me with a heavenly smile, drew me gently after her to follow the blessed Prophet to the tomb. All Bethany was in his footsteps.
How shall I describe Jesus as he then appeared? He wore a blue robe, woven without seam throughout, the affectionate work and gift of the two sisters. His face was very pale and sad, yet a certain divine majesty rested thereon, so that his calm, high forehead looked as if it were a throne. His holy, earnest eyes were full of sorrow. His mouth, compressed, betrayed the effort he made to suppress the outbursting of his heart's deep grief.
Slowly he moved onward and, entering the cemetery, he soon stood before the tomb of his beloved friend.
For a few moments he stood gazing upon the closed stone door of the cave in silence. There reigned an expectant hush among the vast throng. Mary knelt at his feet, gazing up into his countenance with a sublime expression of hope and trust. Martha drew softly near and fell upon her knees by the side of her sister. Jesus looked tenderly upon them and, resting his eyes upon the tomb, wept. Large, glittering tears rolled down his cheeks and glanced from his flowing beard to the ground. I knelt by the side of the sisters.