"Run away?" cried the burgomaster, inexorably giving the act the right name.
"Yes, I have just found these lines on his table."
The burgomaster turned pale as if he had received a mortal wound. A peal of thunder seemed to echo in his ears--the thunder which had shattered the temple of Jerusalem, whose priest he was! The walls fell, the veil was rent and revealed the place of execution. Golgotha lay before him. He heard the rustling wings of the departing guardian angel of Ammergau. High above, in terrible solitude, towered the cross, but it was empty--he who should hang upon it--had vanished! Grey clouds gathered around the desolate scene.
But from the empty cross issued a light--not a halo, but like the livid, phosphorescent glimmer of rotten wood! It shone into a chasm where, from a jutting rock, towered a single tree, upon which hung, faithful to his task--Judas!
A peal of jeering laughter rose from the depths. "You have killed yourself in vain. Your victim has escaped. See the conscientious Judas, who hung himself, while the other is having a life of pleasure!"
Shame and disgrace! "The Christ has fled from the cross." Malicious voices echo far and wide, cynicism exults--baseness has conquered, the divine has become a laughing-stock for children--the Passion Play a travesty.
The phosphorescent wood of the cross glimmered before the burgomaster's eyes. Aye, it was rotten and mouldering--this cross--it must crumble--the corruption of the world had infected and undermined it, and this had happened in Oberammergau--under his management.
The unfortunate man, through whose brain this chain of thoughts was whirling, sat like a stone statue before his friend, who stood waiting modestly, without disturbing his grief by a single word.
What the two men felt--each knew--was too great for utterance.
The burgomaster was mechanically holding Freyer's letter in his clenched hand. Now his cold, stiff fingers reminded him of it. He laid it on the table, his eyes resting dully on the large childish characters of the unformed hand: "Forgive me!" ran the brief contents. "I am no longer worthy to personate the Saviour! Not from lack of principle, but on account of it do I resign my part. Ere you read these lines, I shall be far away from here! God will not make His sacred cause depend upon any individual--He will supply my place to you! Forget me, and forgive the renegade whose heart will be faithful to you unto death! Freyer!"