Lazarus, a tale of the world's great miracle/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
PALE dawn stole in at the window of Rebekah's chamber and found her sleeping still a restless, feverish sleep that had overtaken her towards early morn. The beautiful white arms lay motionless outside the coverlet. The long lashes touched lovingly her pale sad cheeks, as though they would caress them.
Silently her maidens entered and, with noiseless footsteps, moved about the room. Then one sat by her side and watched her while day crept nearer and nearer, big with the tidings that would so distress her.
"'T will be a sorrowful awakening," said one to her companion.
"Methinks I have no strength to tell her the sad news," rejoined the other. But even their light whispering had stirred the girl, whose whole being was indeed awake and alive with uncertainty and with dread.
She started up from her couch into a sitting posture.
"What news have ye of Lazarus?" she cried, her voice framing the words her brain, as yet, had scarce conceived.
The maidens looked from one to the other and answered not; so, with a furious look and a voice of thunder, Rebekah burst out with: "Speak, I command ye. Have ye then not sent a messenger to Bethany?"
"Lazarus is dead," said one.
"He died ere dawn," the other added.
"Oh, oh!" 'T was a groan and shriek and bitter, bitter cry that rent her very heart; and the proud Rebekah buried her face in the pillow and moaned and sobbed continuously, "Lazarus, Lazarus!"
So this was the end; the end of her fond delusion that, while Lazarus lived, by the power of her strong will he might still be hers. The end of life, the end of vengeance. All her plotting and scheming had come to naught. Death had baffled her. Lazarus had escaped her. Oh, 't was the Nazarene who had wrenched him from her by some trickery.
"For hatred of my father hath He done this thing," she cried. "But, perchance he is not dead, and they have stolen him away, that they might seem to bring him back to life. He is not dead, he is not dead," she moaned in frenzied accents.
"Yea, the messenger did see him on his couch, and many stood around and wept," said one; "but thou shouldst not mourn, for this man loved thee not; he was altogether gone mad after this Nazarene."
"He loved me not, but I loved him," replied Rebekah; "and now I need do naught but die, for wherefore shall I live."
There are other rulers, fairer still," the maidens answered her, "and wealthier, and who do love thee."
"I tell thee I cannot live if Lazarus be dead," she cried, and beat her silken cushions in her despair.
"They say the Nazarene will yet bring him back to life," said one maiden, at her wits' ends how to comfort the impetuous Rebekah in her grief.
Rebekah raised her head and gazed at them with eyes all red and swollen beyond recognition.
"What say ye ?"
"They say the Nazarene hath the power even to raise the dead," replied the maiden; "and that He will raise up Lazarus, for He greatly loved him."
"Thinkest thou this?" said Rebekah, sitting up, for the moment oblivious of her grief.
"We cannot tell, but 't is so rumoured among the multitude."
"If Lazarus be raised, then I, too, will believe," she muttered; "but I fear me it is not to be. No, death hath been stronger than Caiaphas's daughter. There are yet some things I understand not, though for a woman I have learned overmuch; one is, why Lazarus loved me not, the other, what is death? If the Nazarene doth conquer death, then surely is He, as 't is said He claimeth to be, the Son of God. But I must know for sure that Lazarus is dead; for in these days none speaketh the truth, and ye do but give me rumours, that themselves were gossip retailed from mouth to mouth by gabbling servants; I would see, therefore, for myself whether Lazarus is dead. Bring hither my cloak, and habit me, that I may go to Bethany; order my mule to be in readiness at once."
It was indeed an unexpected guest that forced her way through the gates into the very room where Lazarus lay, oblivious of the presence of the inquiring crowd. Various nationalities and creeds were represented there, haters of the Pharisees and open enemies of her father. She cast herself on her knees beside the bed and seized his hand in hers.
"Dead! dead!" she wailed, "verily and truly dead. 'T is no jugglery nor fooling. He is dead indeed." Then excitedly she turned to the assembled crowd. "Where, then, is this wonder-working Nazarene, this performer of miracles?" she asked scornfully, trying to disguise by haughty and disdainful tone the burning excitement she felt within. "Why is He not here? Where is the friendship that hath been spoken of so much, if He cometh not to the sick-bed of His friend? Go fetch Him, one of you. Tell Him that Caiaphas's daughter doth command His presence, and would witness a miracle." She talked excitedly, almost madly; but none stirred, only looked at her in wonder. "Can ye not move?" she shrieked. "Will none obey my bidding? Or do ye know that He, too, cannot conquer death? That He is no Christ, but only some poor, juggling carpenter, that doth bewitch the people?" Then Martha, fearing a disturbance, went up to the girl and drew her gently away.
"Noble maiden," she said softly, "didst thou then love Lazarus, that his death doth grieve thee so?"
All Rebekah's haughtiness returned at the directness of this question.
"Who art thou, woman, that dost presume to question me? What is it to thee whether I loved Lazarus or not?"
"To me 't is very much," said Martha, with a gentle impressiveness that was not without effect upon Rebekah; "for all who loved Lazarus I love."
For one instant, the proud daughter of Caiaphas felt constrained to open her heart to this gentle woman, who spoke and looked like Lazarus.
"Yea, I did love Lazarus, yet he loved not me," she answered scornfully; "but I would have him live, because I cannot live if he be dead."
"He will rise again," said Martha.
"What meanest thou?" inquired Rebekah; "that he will rise now, or in the Judgment Day? If thou sayest now, I could understand thee; but hereafter—that is too far off a thing for my vain mind to grasp."
"Methinks the Lord will raise him yet," said Martha, musingly; "but whether now, or at the Resurrection Day, my brother will rise again."
"But canst not send for this Nazarene? Ye speak of all His power and love, and yet, when death doth carry off your brother, ye do stand gaping and wailing and doing nothing."
She stamped her foot impatiently. "Will none stir?" she cried again.
"Peace, hush thee, maiden," answered Martha, in a tone half gentle, half authoritative. "We have sent many times, and He cometh not. We sent when he was sick, and now we have sent to tell Him he is dead, and, if He cometh not, 't is that He hath good reason or His hour is not yet come."
A look of mingled frenzy and despair stole over the features of Rebekah.
He is afraid to come," she said with scorn; "for He knoweth that He cannot raise the dead."
Then, overcome with excitement and fatigue, the proud soul unbent, and casting herself by the bed, whereon lay Lazarus, she sobbed as though her heart would break.
"We will leave her to weep awhile," said Martha, making a sign to all in the room to leave. Then the girl, whose prayers till now had been but empty words, poured out her aching heart to the dead body of the man she loved.
"O Lazarus, wherefore didst thou leave me thus? Where is now thy scorn and pride? Wilt thou still have none of me, even in death? for in the silent tomb I would lie near thee, if thou wouldst, so I might be with thee. O Lazarus, speak; tell me where I shall meet with thee again; whether there is Eternal Life, and what it is; and how to find thy God, if God there is."
Long the maiden mourned and wept. At last, a gentle voice behind her murmured: "He will surely rise again."
Rebekah lifted her head. "Ye do all cry that he will rise again. Yet He cometh not who, ye say, can cause it. What manner of friend is this who hasteneth not to raise, if raise He can?"
Then, drawing her cloak around her and casting one long, despairing look at the dead body of Lazarus, she strode from the house, her maidens following; and as she passed between the throng they all fell back and did obeisance to the daughter of the dreaded Caiaphas.