"Don't talk to me in that accursed Latin tongue."
"In good Hebrew: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."
"Now, they've got Him in the middle," said another, for the two robbers had been hoisted up to the right and left of Him. The one on the left stretched out his neck, and mocked at Jesus with a distorted face: "I suppose, neighbour, that you too are one of those who get executed just because they are weaklings. Jump from the cross, rush among them, and the wretches will idolise you!"
Jesus did not answer him. He turned His head towards the man who hung on His right who saw the moment approaching when his legs would be broken. In the agony of death, and in penitence for his ill-spent life, he turned to Him whom they called Messiah and Christ. And when he saw the expression with which Jesus looked at him, a curious shudder passed through the criminal's heart. How the man on the cross gazed at him, with His fading eyes—My God!—it was the never-to-be-forgotten holy look which a little child had given him in the days of his youth. Dismas began to weep, and said: "Lord, you are from heaven! When you return home, remember me."
And Jesus said to him: "There is mercy for all who repent! To-day, Dismas, you and I will be together at the Heavenly Father's home."
"He is from heaven!" was heard in the crowd. "He is from heaven!" One of the Roman soldiers threw his spear away, and exclaimed in immense excitement: "Verily, He is the Son of God!"
"The Son of God! The Son of God! Set Him free! It is the Son of God who hangs on the cross!" The cry rolled through the crowd like the dull noise of an avalanche; like a shriek of terror, like the inward consciousness of a fearful mistake, the most fearful that had been made since the world began. He who hangs yonder on the cross is the Son of God. Far below in a cleft of the rock is a poor sinner. He struggles up to his feet, holding on with his lean hands, he looks up to the cross with rolling eyes. A prayer for mercy wells up from his heart like a bloody spring. And beside him a woman kneels and folds her hands against the cross. And she who thus stands under the cross wrings her hands, and implores mercy for her child.
The letters I.N.R.I, over the cross begin to gleam. And a voice is heard in the air: "Jesus Near Redeems Ill-doers."
"The Son of God! The Son of God!" The cry went on without ceasing. "The Son of God on the cross!"
"The Son of God's coat! A hundred gold pieces for the coat!" shrieked old Schobal, lifting the garment up on a stick like a flag. The dealer swore by that flag, for its value had risen a thousandfold in an hour. "A hundred gold pieces for the Son of God's coat!" But it was high time that the dealer made himself scarce, for the people of Jerusalem were enraged at a man who wanted to do business in presence of the dying Saviour. The good, pious citizens of Jerusalem!