“Yes, I know,” Judas replied harshly and decidedly. “You, Thomas, will betray Him. But He Himself does not believe what He says! It is full time! Why does He not call to Him the strong, magnificent Judas?”
No longer by days, but by short, fleeting hours, was the inevitable time to be measured. It was evening; and evening stillness and long shadows lay upon the ground—the first sharp darts of the coming night of mighty contest—when a harsh, sorrowful voice was heard. It said:
“Dost Thou know whither I go, Lord? I go to betray Thee into the hands of Thine enemies.”
And there was a long silence, evening stillness, and swift black shadows.
“Thou art silent, Lord? Thou commandest me to go?”
And again silence.
“Allow me to remain. But perhaps Thou canst not? Or darest not? Or wilt not?”
And again silence, stupendous, like the eyes of eternity.
“But indeed Thou knowest that I love Thee. Thou knowest all things. Why lookest Thou thus at Judas? Great is the mystery of Thy beautiful eyes, but is mine less? Order me to remain! But Thou art silent. Thou art ever silent. Lord, Lord, is it for this that in grief and pains have I sought Thee all my life, sought and found! Free me! Remove the weight; it is heavier than even mountains of lead. Dost Thou hear how the bosom of Judas Iscariot is cracking under it?”
And the last silence was abysmal, like the last glance of eternity.