Faustina nodded affirmatively, and the woman bent down over the man.
“What have you Galileans done this day with your Master?” she asked. “I meet you scattered on highways and byways, but him I see nowhere.”
But when she questioned in this manner, the man who lay in the dust rose to his knees. “What evil spirit hath possessed you to ask me about him?” he said, in a voice that was filled with despair. “You see, surely, that I have lain down in the road to be trampled to death. Is not that enough for you? Shall you come also and ask me what I have done with him?”
When she repeated the question, the man staggered to his feet and put both hands to his ears.
“Woe unto you, that you can not let me die in peace!” he cried. He forced his way through the crowds that thronged in front of the gate, and rushed away shrieking with terror, while his torn robe fluttered around him like dark wings.
“It appears to me as though we had come to a nation of madmen,” said Faustina, when she saw the man flee. She had become depressed by seeing these disciples of the Prophet. Could the man who numbered such fools among his followers do anything for the Emperor?
Even the Hebrew woman looked distressed, and she said very earnestly to Faustina: “Mistress, delay not in your search for him whom you would find! I fear some evil has befallen him, since his disciples are beside themselves and can not bear to hear him spoken of.”
Faustina and her retinue finally rode through the gate archway and came in on the narrow and dark streets, which were alive with people. It seemed well-nigh impossible to get through the city. The riders time and again had to stand still. Slaves and soldiers tried in vain to clear the way. The people continued to rush on in a compact, irresistible stream.
“Verily,” said the old woman, “the streets of Rome are peaceful pleasure gardens compared with these!”
Sulpicius soon saw that almost insurmountable difficulties awaited them.