Leonard. Lean upon me! How ghastly pale you grow!
Pancratius. Millions of men obeyed my will; where are they now?
Leonard. Do you not hear their cries? They ask for you, their saviour.
Look not on yon steep cliff; your eyes are dying in their sockets as you gaze upon it!
Pancratius. HE stands there, motionless; three nails are driven in Him; three stars; His outstretched arms are lightning flashes!
Leonard. Who? Where! Revive!
Pancratius. Galilæe Vicisti!
He falls dead in the arms of Leonard.