“Thou wilt not be admitted. Go.”
But again and again Judas of Kerioth knocked at the high priest’s portal and was once more admitted into the presence of the aged Annas. Shriveled and angry, oppressed with thought, he regarded the betrayer in silence and seemed to be counting the hairs on his illshaped head. Judas also was silent, as if, for his part, counting the hairs in the silvery thin beard of the high priest.
“Well, thou art here again?” haughtily ejaculated the irritated high priest, as though spuing the words on his visitor’s head.
“I want to betray unto you the Nazarene.”
They both lapsed into silence, scanning intently one another’s features, the Iscariot gazing calmly, but a feeling of subdued malevolence, dry and cold like the morning frost in the winter time, was beginning to gnaw at the heart of Annas.
“And what askest thou for thy Jesus?”
“And what will ye give?”
With a feeling of quiet elation Annas insultingly retorted:
“You are a band of rascals, all of you. Thirty pieces of silver, that is all we will give for Him.”
And his heart was filled with delighted gratification as he observed how Judas’ whole body was set agog by this announcement. The Iscariot turned and scurried about, agile and swift, as if he had not two but a dozen legs.