# Mary Magdalene: A Play In Three Acts/Act II

(The Tablinium [or a large room behind the Atrium] of MARY MAGDALENE'S villa at Bethany. At the back, leading one into the other, the Atrium and a long vestibule with marble columns.)
MARY MAGDALENE: You at last, my Verus! . . . For three days I have awaited you, for three days I have called you. Men grant me my beauty when its triumph brings me nothing but regret and disgust. And I ask myself, is that beauty really powerless when, at last, there is a question of the happiness which every woman has the right to expect in her life? . . .
VERUS: I know not if I shall be able to give you the happiness that Is your due, Magdalene; but be assured that your beauty never gained a more complete victory. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: What care I now for its victory! . . . It is I who am vanquished, utterly vanquished beforehand, without daring to con fess it to myself, without being able to hide it from my indifference, so odiously acquired, or from my vanity, which has never been more than the shameful crown of my shame! . . . But why keep me waiting so long? ... I thought that everything was abandoning me, that all was lost be cause of the dreadful words which I spoke at our good Silanus' and which were not true, which were only a profounder lie then my other lies, because I was mad, because I did not know, because I did not wish for an impossible happiness. . . .
VERUS: You well know, Magdalene, that I never believed you the woman you depicted. . . . But now neither do I dare believe in the happiness that approaches. ... I am quite dazzled, I doubt, I grope in the dark. ... I do not recognize the voice that has so often and so harshly repelled me.
MARY MAGDALENE: (Struggling in Verus' arms.) It is not the same voice, it is not the same soul. . . .
VERUS: And yet it is really you whom I hold in my arms, it is every parcel of you whom I have implored so long! . . . I ask my self still if all is indeed real, if all is in deed possible, if you are not trifling with a too-credulous happiness which you will fling aside among all those which beauty shatters when testing its power. . . . But no, when I question, when I follow your eyes that plunge into mine, I see that it is indeed true, that it was always true. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Yes, yes, it is true, it is true and it was always true. ... I did not know it, I searched my heart in vain and I was ignorant of all my feelings until these days of anguish. ... I refused to see that you were coming towards me and that everything was awaiting you. . . . And yet I ought to have known it. . . . Already, at Antioch, do you remember, Verus, how I avoided you? . . . I received so many others; and you alone, the comeliest, the purest, I tried to ignore, to blot out, to destroy. . . . As soon as you appeared, I withdrew, like a shy and distrustful animal, to my lair; and, only the other day, at our good Silanus', I felt all the evil, all the cruelty, or all the despair that fills my heart rise to my lips. . . . But, today, I see ; I am no longer the same; I no longer know myself, because I am myself once more. . . . All that used to resist is broken within my soul. . . . I no longer understand myself and I did not know that happiness is so strange a thing. . . . I, who never wept in my worst moments of distress, am sobbing today when happiness awaits me. . . . I am glad and light-hearted and yet more shattered than if all the misfortunes that hover in the skies were about to burst over me. . . . (Embracing him more passionately.) Help me, my Verus, help me, support me, you whom nothing threatens, you who have nothing to fear! . . .
VERUS: But what has happened? Can any one have dared, in my absence . . . ?
MARY MAGDALENE: No, no, nobody; and it is not that; and I myself do not know the danger that surrounds me. . . . But I have no other shelter than your arms; and I feel myself lost if I lose you too. . . . Take me, bear me away on that heart to which I am listening, far from myself, far from this place and from my anxiety. . . . You alone can save me and I have no life but that which you give me. . . . But why did you forsake me so long in my tears, why did you not come until after the third day, abandoning me thus, without a word of pity, without a sign of hope? . . .
VERUS: You are mistaken, Magdalene, or else your slaves did not acquaint you with the truth. . . . The very day after our meeting at Silanus', I came to Bethany to tell you that, by order of the Procurator, I was suddenly sent, at the head of a cohort, to suppress a curious riot that had broken out near Jericho. The slaves who keep your door would not allow me to approach you and replied to me in such a way that I dared not well insist. . . . I understood that they were obeying orders so precise and so stern that I must not try to thwart them. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: It is true. ... I forgot. ... I was mad and worn out, incapable of seeing, willing or hearing. ... I was not yet awake. ... It seemed to me that I was still struggling amid the hideous crowd in Simon's garden, where I called in vain upon him who had delivered me. . . . He was abandoning me, he too. ... I sent in search of him to no purpose. No one could tell me where he was hiding. . . . Have you not seen him since ? . . . Do you not know where he is? . . .
VERUS: Who?
MARY MAGDALENE: The Nazarene. . . .
VERUS: Let us not speak of that wretched man: his hours are numbered. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: His hours are numbered? ... What do you mean? . . .
VERUS: No matter: that does not interest us now and soon we shall know nothing of aught that does not touch our love; for it is wonderful to see how the thoughts of those who love each other meet and unite in spite of the distance and of the ill-natured speeches that come between them. Is it not astonishing that, after leaving you at Silanus', where I had heard words that should have deprived me of all hope, I for the first time felt our young happiness swell and blossom in all its Mary Magdalene strength and all its certainty? . . . While you were calling me, I called you also with all the deep and wonderful voices of my heart. I was kept far from you by a duty unworthy of a soldier; for that expedition to Jericho, the last, I trust, upon which I shall be sent, was almost odious and often ridiculous. I counted with rage the minutes stolen from our new life, which was already beginning in a soul that feared none of my reasons for fearing. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: It will not really begin until we are far from this land where I suffocate, where everything darkens and threatens happiness, where I can no longer live. . . . Verus, I beseech you, if you love me as I love you, let us hasten, let us leave every thing; there is no time to lose. . . .
VERUS: You are right: a joy so long awaited must not be born among these sinister rocks, where floats an odor of death and madness. . . . And yet, even here, our thoughts came to an understanding long before our words. . . . Like you, I have resolved to leave this hated city, where really my obedience is abused. ... I am at the orders of the Procurator, but not at the venomous service of the Jewish priests, nor of the clamorous and perfidious nation whom my old legionaries have conquered. I have had enough of this ambiguous life. Before tonight, I shall find a pretext for evading an order which I was to execute this very day, an order of which I but too well know the origin. . . . If the pretext appear insufficient, let Caiaphas and Annas go and complain to Caesar. . . . Nothing counts in the presence of our love; and the inglorious errand which they claim the right to impose upon me repels me all the more inasmuch as it was to be accomplished, so to speak, be fore your eyes. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Before my eyes? ... Of what are you speaking? . . .
VERUS: Nothing that interests you; let us think only of our happy escape. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: I know that some danger threatens him. . . .
VERUS: Whom do you mean? . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: It is impossible, after what he has done, that you should become the instrument of his worst enemies. . . . You owe him my life and perhaps our happiness. . . . What do they want with him ? What orders have you received? . . .
VERUS: I am charged to arrest him before this evening, together with the principal leaders of his band. It is a vulgar constabulary measure, directed against sick men and vagrants, of a kind that has never yet been exacted of the legionaries. ... It shall not take place; do not let us speak of it. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: But why arrest him? What has he done ? What is he accused of ? . . . He is innocent, I know; besides, one need but see him to understand. . . . He brings a happiness that was not known before; and all those who come near him are happy, it seems, like children at their awaking. ... I myself, who only caught a glimpse of him among the olive-trees, felt that gladness was rising in my soul like a sort of light that overtook my thoughts. . . . He fixed his eyes for but a moment on mine; and that will be enough for the rest of my life. ... I knew that he recognized me without ever having seen me and I knew that he wished to see me again. . . . He seemed to choose me gravely, absolutely, for ever. . . .
VERUS: What does this mean? Are you speaking of him? What happened? . . . Have you seen him again? . . . I was told, for that matter, that he is an intriguer, ready for everything; but I should never have believed that he would have dared . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: He has dared nothing. ... I have not seen him again, I shall never see him again, now that we are about to leave everything, to be only we two alone. . . .
VERUS: (Clasping her more closely.) To be one alone, Magdalene, in a happier land, where everything encourages happiness, smiles upon lovers and blesses beauty. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: (Bursting into silent, convulsive sobs on Verus' breasts.) I love you. ... I know it. . . .
VERUS: Come, I know these tears that well at the same moment from our two hearts in our one joy. . . . But here, between the columns of the vestibule, come the greatest ornaments of that beautiful Rome which we shall soon astonish with our love. . . . I am right: it is our good Silanus, accompanied by the faithful Appius; led by the immortal gods, they descend the marble steps to hallow with their fraternal presence the first smiles of a happiness born under their eyes. . . .
SILANUS: It was said and it was written that, on this most propitious day, I should behold two marvels, not the lesser of which is to see thus promptly reunited two lovers who, according to love's ancient custom, should have fled from each other the more obstinately the more they yearned to meet. . . .
APPIUS: By Metrodorus, Hermachus and Zeno, there are other things on hand than the too-long-expected happiness of two lovers cutting short their quarrels! . . . Tell them at once what has happened; shout it to them, with all your throat and all your soul: death no longer exists! The graves are about to open, the spirits of the dead to show themselves; the gods are shaken, all the laws of life are overturned! . . . We have just admired an un-equalled, unspeakable, unheard-of phenomenon, that has never been seen since light first rose upon the world, that will not be seen again before the death of the gods! . . .
SILANUS: The more extraordinary it seems to you, Appius, the less should it trouble the perfect composure of your soul, considering that a phenomenon that will not be seen again could not well shake the laws of the universe nor the stability of the gods!
VERUS: But what has happened? Appius seems to be the victim of a greater exaltation than usual; and you yourself, my worthy master, despite your even mind . . .
APPIUS: I will tell you what has happened: he has brought a dead man to life! . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Who? . . .
SILANUS: The Nazarene, whose return I have come to announce to you, as I promised.
MARY MAGDALENE: He has come back? Since when? Where is he? . . . Have you seen him? . . .
SILANUS: To reply to your questions in order, lady, I will tell you that he returned this morning, that I saw him with my eyes and that, at this moment, he is with my neighbor Simon the Leper. I am surprised, however, that the absolute frenzy which has shaken the country for two or three hours has not yet spread as far as here. It is true that your dwelling is separated by a high hill and some olive-woods from the spot where the sepulcher lies hidden.
MARY MAGDALENE: I have heard nothing, learned nothing. . . . In spite of my orders, no one has Mary Magdalene told me. . . . But, after all, what has happened? . . . Appius is as pale as a ghost. . . . What is it? What has he said, what has he done? . . .
APPIUS: He has done a thing which no man, no god, has done before him; a thing which I would not have believed if ten thousand witnesses had come to swear it in the name of the immortals, but in which I believe as firmly as I am bound to believe in my own existence, having seen it with my eyes, as I see you now, and almost touched it with my hands, as I touch this vase. He said, "Rise, come forth and walk." And the dead man rose, came forth and began to walk among us!
VERUS: It was apparently a dead man whose health left nothing to be wished for? . . .
SILANUS: No, I am convinced that it was really a dead man.
APPIUS: It was a real, a terrible dead man! . . . If not, my senses can no longer declare that the sun shines in the blue or that human flesh decays! . . . He had been four days in the grave! . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: But who? How? Where? . . . And the Nazarene? ... I want to know. . . . Speak for him, Silanus: he has not yet recovered his senses. . . .
SILANUS: Here, in a few words, is what happened. Nevertheless, it is right that I should tell you that I do not entirely share Appius' amazement. It should astonish us no more to see a man return to life than to see a child come to life or an old man leave it. (MARY MAGDALENE makes a movement of impatience.) But I understand your impatience. I spoke to you the other day of my neighbor Simon. He lives in the little house that touches my property, with his wife, his sister-in-law and his brother-in- law, named Lazarus. This Lazarus, whom I saw only two or three times, for he was often away from home, had been ailing for some weeks and died four days ago. . . .
APPIUS: Four days, do you understand? . . . That is what nobody would dare deny. . . .
SILANUS: Nor does anyone think of doing so, Appius. They were a very united family; and the sorrow of those poor people was great. From my terrace, I could hear the lamentations of the women. According to the custom of the Jews, Lazarus was buried on the night that followed after his death. They laid him in a new grave, dug in the rocks that form the other side of that hill, and closed the grave with an enormous stone. This morning, suddenly, the rumor spread that the Nazarene had returned and that he was going to restore to life the dead man, who was his friend. Appius, who was at my house, persuaded me to go down with him; and we followed the crowd into the valley of the tombs.
MARY MAGDALENE: I knew that he was to return today; but why did you not an end word to me at once, as you promised? . . .
SILANUS: It seemed to me that the spectacle at hand was not one of those on which the eyes of a woman in the hour of her beauty love to rest. Moreover, there was cause to fear lest your arrival among the excited crowd should cause a repetition of the violence of the other day. For an enormous crowd, silent, but quivering like a swarm of bees, escorted the Nazarene, in front of whom walked the two sisters of Lazarus. We, Appius and I, climbed on to a block of stone hidden behind some bushes, whence we could see and hear everything without arousing the suspicion of the Jews. They showed the grave to the Nazarene, who stopped and lowered his head.
APPIUS: He wept. They whispered in the crowd, "Behold how he loved him!" But nobody dared approach. They formed a circle at a distance, as though round a dread being. . . .
SlLANUS: "Take ye away the stone," said the Nazarene; and two men stepped toward the grave.
APPIUS: You forget that, at that moment, one of the sisters of the dead man, alarmed and all in tears, seized the Nazarene by the arm and said, "Lord, by this time he stinketh; for he hath been dead four days." The Nazarene answered — I have not forgotten a single one of his words — "Said I not unto thee that, if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God? Take ye away the stone."
MARY MAGDALENE: Who is this sister of Lazarus? Is she Simon's wife?
SILANUS: No, it is the other one: her name is Mary and, when the Nazarene stays at Bethany, she never leaves him.
MARY MAGDALENE: Is she young?
SILANUS: She is younger than Simon's wife.
MARY MAGDALENE: Have you seen her? Do you know her? . . .
SILANUS: I have spoken to her more than once. But to return to the stone, which was enormous, flat and fastened into the walls of the cave: two men attacked it with levers. It resisted at first and then, suddenly, fell down all of a piece. . . .
APPIUS: We were quite close, hanging aslant over the cave. By all the gods who from heaven rule the earth and men, I swear that, at that moment, I felt the terrible breath of the dead man strike me in the face! . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Did you see the dead man? . . .
APPIUS: As I see you now, lady! . . .
VERUS: I do not understand how you can seriously interest yourselves in these things which happen in an incongruous, mad world, where all is witchcraft, coarse illusions and barbarous lies. . . .
APPIUS: By Hades and Persephone, what my senses perceived was no illusion, I assure you! . . . We nearly fell from our rock! . . . The corpse was there, in the greedy light that devoured the cave, lying like a stiff and shapeless statue, closely bound in grave-clothes, the face covered with a napkin. The crowd, heaped up in a semicircle, irresistibly attracted and repelled, leaned forward, stretched its thousand necks, without daring to approach. The Nazarene stood alone, in front. He raised his hand, spoke a few words which I did not catch and then, addressing the corpse in a voice whose pent-up force I shall never forget, he cried, "Lazarus, come forth!"
MARY MAGDALENE: Did he come forth? . . .
APPIUS: We heard only the sound of the wind moving the garments of the multitude and the buzzing of the flies that swarmed into the grave. All eyes were so firmly fixed upon the corpse that I saw, so to speak, their motionless beams, as one sees the sunbeams in a dark room. . . . Suddenly, it became plain, terrifying, super human! The dead man, obeying the order, slowly bent in two; then, snapping the bandages that fastened his legs, he stood up erect, like a stone, all white, with his arms bound and his head veiled. With small, almost impossible steps, guided by the light, he came forth from the grave. The affrighted crowd gradually fell back, without being able to turn away its gaze. "Loose him and let him go," said the Nazarene. And the two sisters of the dead man, releasing themselves from the human hedge, rushed to their brother.
MARY MAGDALENE: And he? . . .
APPIUS: He staggered, and he stumbled at every step. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: But the Nazarene? . . .
APPIUS: He went away without a word and withdrew into Simon's house.
VERUS: And the dead man, how did he go? . . .
APPIUS: The two sisters, wild-eyed, mechanic ally, blindly fumbled and cut the napkin and the grave-clothes; then, supporting the dead man and helping him to walk, they led him away to the same house. The crowd dared not follow them saved with their eyes. No one uttered a word; even the two women did not yet speak to the dead man.
MARY MAGDALENE: And the Nazarene? Has he been seen again?
SILANUS: He has not left Simon's house. The swaying multitude is waiting for him in the orchard and along the roads; for, after the first long minutes of stupor, reaction set in and a general alacrity followed. . . .
APPIUS: Which was as extraordinary as the miracle itself! First, a confused and almost dumb gladness, made up of whispers that seek and feel for one another, passed through the crowd. Then, as though the truth had suddenly burst forth under the skies, an unspeakable gaiety seized upon the mass. The whispers became cries that were not recognizable. The women, the children and especially the older men exulted frantically. It was as though they were trampling on death, which a god had just conquered and laid low, for the first time since man came into existence. At this moment, an inconceivable and dangerous exaltation still prevails in all the regions around about the tombs; and, by Hercules, though we have escaped unscathed, I would not advise my worst enemy to risk the Roman toga and arms there!
VERUS: Is that all? . . .
APPIUS: What more would you have? . . .
VERUS: I should like to know what all this proves.
APPIUS: It proves that this man who has conquered death, which hitherto had conquered the world, is greater than we and our gods. It therefore behooves us to hear what he has to tell us and to confirm our lives to it.
SILANUS: I will confirm mine to it, Appius, if what he teaches is better than what I have learned. By awaking a dead man, in the depth of his grave, he shows us that he possesses a power greater than that of our masters, but not a greater wisdom. Let us await everything with an even mind. It is not difficult, even for a child, to discern that which, in men's words, augments or decreases the love of virtue. If he can convince me that I have acted wrong until today, I will amend, for I seek only the truth. But, if all the dead who people these valleys were to rise from their graves to bear witness, in his name, to a truth less high than that which I know, I would not believe them. Whether the dead sleep or wake, I will not give them a thought unless they teach me to make a better use of my life. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: (Starting.) Listen! . . .
VERUS: What is it? . . .
APPIUS: I hear stones rolling. . . .
VERUS: It is like the murmur of a crowd. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: He is coming! . . .
APPIUS: (Going to the first columns of the vestibule.) From here we overlook the wall of the first court. ... I see them! . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: (Pale and staggering, takes a few steps toward the back of the Atrium and gazes into the distance.) Yes. . . .
APPIUS: They are wrapped in a cloud of dust. . . . There are two or three thousand of them crowding toward the entrance. ... I think it is those who were at the grave. . . .
VERUS: They would not dare! . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Verus! . . .
VERUS: Fear nothing, Magdalene: this time, I alone will defend you.
APPIUS: They are following, at a distance, a man clad in white, who is entering the court. . . .
VERUS: But what is the janitor of the first courtyard doing? . . . Will he not stop him? . . .
APPIUS: Yes. . . . He is coming now. . . . What is he doing? . . . One would think he was afraid! . . . He suddenly stops and lets him pass without a word. . . .
VERUS: And the others follow him. . . . They are entering the second court. . . . The impudence of those Jews is really incredible! ... In Rome, even during the Saturnalia, we should not allow the crowd to push its way like that. . . . What are the slaves doing? . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Is it he? . . .
SILANUS: Who? . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: The Nazarene. . . .
SILANUS: I think not. ... It is not his walk. ... I believe rather that it is...
APPIUS: There he is, in the plane-tree avenue!
SILANUS: He is coming straight in our direction. . . .
VERUS: He is even taking the shortest way. He is coming up the steps under the boxwood arbor. . . . He seems at home. . . . Fortunately, the slaves are running from every side to bar his entrance to the vestibule. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Hush, I entreat you! . . .
VERUS: What is the matter? . . .
APPIUS: He is coming nearer; he is terribly pale. . . .
SILANUS: I believe it is . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Who? . . .
SILANUS: The other one. . . . The one whom he brought forth from the . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Lazarus? . . .
SILANUS: Yes, I recognize him. . . .
VERUS: What does he want with us? . . . Ghosts do not walk like that, in the broad daylight. . . . He is horrible! . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: Oh, hush, hush! . . .
SILANUS: Here he is. . . .
At the back of the vestibule, there came the SLAVES. Further away, imagined rather than perceived, are the crowd of the JEWS.
(A great silence. LAZARUS advances slowly from the back of the vestibule. He looks neither to the right nor to the left. The SLAVES of the villa, who have hastened up among the last columns, form a group for a moment as though to block his way. But, at the approach of the man risen from the dead, who seems unaware of their presence, they full back silently, one after the other. LAZARUS enters by the back of the Atrium and stops on the threshold, which is raised by three steps. MARY MAGDALENE moves backwards to one of the columns in the fore ground, against which she crushes herself, motionless. But VERUS, breaking the silence, with his hand on the hilt of his sword, goes up to LAZARUS.)
VERUS: (In a hectoring voice.) Who are you? . . . (LAZARUS does not reply.) You do not answer? . . . It is indeed easier to cover with silence what one dare not confess. But, if you have nothing to say, you have no business here. It is well for you that my pity is stronger than my indignation. Go! (A new and profound silence.)
LAZARUS: (In a voice that does not seem yet to have recovered its human note, to MARY MAGDALENE.) Come. The Master calls you.
(MARY MAGDALENE leaves the column against which she is leaning and takes four or five steps towards LAZARUS, as though she was walking in her sleep.)
VERUS: (Barring the road.) Where are you going? . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: (As though she was recovering consciousness with difficulty, in a stifled, and hesitating voice, which she vainly tries to render firmer.) Wherever he wishes . . . .
VERUS: No, not while I am here! . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: (Throwing herself convulsively into VERUS'S arms.) Verus! . . .
VERUS: (Clasping her violently.) Have no fear, Mary Magdalene. Nothing can touch you in these arms which close round you. The madness of this land seems more contagious than its pestilence and more tenacious than its leprosy; but Roman reason does not waver, like the rest, at the first foul breath that issues from a tomb. We will cut this matter short. (Turning his head around to face LAZARUS.) You I will not touch with my sword. It shrinks from corpses, even when they walk and drive the trade which you do. It is for the slaves to show you the road back to the sepulcher. . . . Where are the slaves? . . . But, before going, look at this and tell your master that the woman whom he covets — by the gods, he lacks neither taste nor daring! — has sought a refuge in these arms, which will know how to defend her against his barbarous witchcraft and his childish spells. Above all, repeat to him what I am about to say: he will perhaps understand. His life, which will not be a long one, after what he has done, lies wholly in this hand which drives you hence. I have spoken. Go. She will not follow you. . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: (Struggling to escape from VERUS'S embrace, while, in the effort, her hair becomes loosened and foils over her shoulders.) Yes, I will. . .
VERUS: (Holding her back by force.) What does this mean? . . . Then you wish to . . . ? (MARY MAGDALENE nods her head.) I no longer understand. . . . Or rather I begin to understand too well. . . . You were at one. . . . And it was he whom you were awaiting with that impatience which seemed so sweet to me? . . . For who could be made to believe that the fairest, richest and proudest woman in all Judea would thus, without a previous understanding, obey the first word, the first sign of the grotesque and repulsive messenger sent by one whom she had seen but once in her life ! . . . It is too much. ... I see, I know: go, since you love him! . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: No, no I . . . I love you, but he. . . .
VERUS: But he? . . .
MARY MAGDALENE: (Sinking in sobs at VERUS'S feet.) It is a different thing! . . .
VERUS: It is well, stand up. . . . I do not keep you by force. But I could not have believed that you had come to this. . . . I have fallen into one of your Jewish traps. Do you see the crowd posted there, under the portico, spying upon its hostages? ... I will not have a Roman property defiled. ... I bear you no grudge, Mary Magdalene. Love, in me, is not extinguished in a moment; and I possess more constancy than a woman. ... I shall watch over you. I know now that, by destroying him, I can save her whom he wished to destroy. He does not suspect that he owes his life to me; for hitherto, from pity or indifference, I had held back the threats that were gathering over his head. But, since he himself comes to attack me in my happiness, I add to those threats all the weight of flouted love. . . . And, now, go with your guide from the tombs. . . . We shall meet again before long. (LAZARUS goes out slowly through the vestibule. MARY MAGDALENE, without a word, without a movement, without a look, goes out after him, amid the profound, still silence of all present.)
APPIUS: (After a long pause.) We have this day seen more than one thing that we had not seen before. . . .
SILANUS: It is true, Appius; and this is as surprising as the resurrection of a dead man. . . .