Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-01-26
CHAPTER v.
THE VISIT OF THE NAzARENE.

IdE VISIT OF THE NAZARENE.
Lazarus walked home like a man blinded
by light. His head swan giddily. The
blood leaped in his veins. The stately form
Of the temple shook before him as he passed
The familiar outline of Mt. Olivet quivered
against his eyeballs. The figures of people
in the road wavered and enlarged, and
dwindled like phantasmagoria seen in mist.
He felt as if he moved above them, on
strange high level, and saw the world over
their heads. He seemed to himself like
spirit escaped from the body, and set free to
wander at will. He fled, he foated, he
drifted across the current OF common life.
He knew not whittier he would go, nor
wherefore; he only knew that he fut-
tered upon sea of delight - and
despair. He only knew that he was
alive as bird, or a wind, or
strong tree, or some bright brute thing
that has neither conscience, nor intellect,
nor foresight; only the sense of living and
the joy of it. The only fact he had ever
dreamed of that could separate soul and
body in like manner and give a man his
utter freedom, was the fact of death. Now
here was another, unknown to his grave
speculation, thing till then as unfathomed
by the calm and thoughtful Jew, as the
basin of the Pacific Ocean-here was the
fact Of love.
To Lazarus, the busy mechanic, the sober
householder, the steadiest of citizens, the
most religious of deuotees, the purest of
men, the serevest Of spirits-unto Lazarus,
had occurred the experience which shuts it
self as an unsealed book from most human
souls, albeit they are wrought of the molten
fiber of passionate impulse as unknown to
him as the fire OF Moloch-Lazarus had been
overtaken by that rare and mighty angel:
instantaneous love.
Now this godly young Jew knew no more
what to do with this state of things than if
he had been cast handcuffed and blind
folded into the lake of Galilee in a mid
night tempest and deserted there. At first
he was only conscious of the fact of sinking
and Of the necessity of the fact. Then he
became aware of the struggle and struck
out.
SIT is dream, he muttered, '1 forget it.
1 awake. 1t passeth. do dream"
He drew his firm hand over his eyes con-
fusedly; it was as if he would brush her
image away. Nay, then! She was no such
film. Flesh and blood will not melt at a
sign of dismissal Shall q man wave a
woman out of being by a gesture? She
standeth tall and naughty, queenly, form
of power and face OF flashing light. She
defeth his signal She will not be dis
missed. See! how she holds her ground,
mockingly, merrily-no apparition she.
This is no dream. godly Lazarus. Warm as
the bounding blood in the veins of soft
strong woman-the vision claspeth thee.
Lazarus as he walked staggered under
the pressure of it. 1t seemed to him as if
that sweet, proud creature had entered his
very being; as if her life melted into his; as
if the drawing Of his breath hung upon her
curved lips.
'ZaharaP' he murmured, ''Zahara"
When he spoke her name aloud it seemed
to him as if he began to possess her. He
threw back his head and trod proudly. He
walked in a sweet delirium.
One of his workmen followed him and
asked him some pressing question about the
work at the palace.
"what did you say?" asked Lazarus con-
fusedly. The man repested his inquiry; his
master replied with few irrelevant, hurry
perate need of being alone.
He got home into his own apartments
quickly as he might. Martha buzzed about
some disturbing trife, but he said:
81 pray thee, my sister, leave the mat
ter alone. I am weary and would be at
peace"
"It is important" persisted Martha; ri
must talk to somebody"
fh
brother wearily.
"One might as well talk to the evening
star" cried Martha.
II will listen, then," said Lazarus little
smitten at the conscience, for he was a
good brother, and not man to disregard a
woman's chatter.
Nay, thenP answered Martha resent |
fully, 81 have naught to say to you."
Lazarus passed on into his chamber; and |
shut the doors. He looked about the famil- |
lar place perplexedly. He felt that a new |
person crossed the thresholds; the man,
Lazarus, when he knew had passed it for |
the last time. He did not recognize him |
self. He was not used to dreams, and to
strange views of common facts. He had |
lived a plain, busy, pious life. Nothing |
like this had ever come within his knowl- |
edge. His quiet nature was now tempest.
All his standard and codes were capsized
like little shallops in sudden sea. In a
in the twinkling of a soft eye, a
woman had entered his calm world, and all |
the Kingdoms of his nature and the glory of
them were beneath her feet. He wished
that he could have laid his reverent lips to
yelled feet. This eminently
discreet young man did indeed cherish that
desperate daring desire. How gently her
garments flowed about them!-as a modest
maiden's should-concealing them in long,
soft folds; as if she trod upon morning
clouds. Her drapery, veil beneath veil, en-
closed her jealously. 1t was a kind of
haughtiness in her, it was kind of higher
modesty, not to draw the veil across her face
at first glance of him-her fathers work.
man. Lazarus recalled this with half de-
light and half a singing shame. His first
thought was:
'She is not as other women. She doeth
her own will. She is princess"
His second:
''She is the daughter of Annas. And I
am Lazarus, builder to the High Priest, her
father"
What was he verify, in her sight, that he
should dare lift up so much as his thoughts
unto Zahara?
1t was dark in his sumptuous rooms. The
prosperous man paced them like beggar.
In an hour he felt pauperized. He had al
ways been so sure of his standing in the
world; his possessions and his skill had
meant credit and content; he had been
aonored; he had felt that his preference
would be regarded by the women whom be
knew; it had never occurred to the rich
builder and prominent ecclesiastic that q
woman could become to him an unsttainable
iact in life. His large mild eyes flashed in
,he dark rooms.
''I am defedP' he said aloud, IT am de-
1iedP'
What would Annas the High Priest,
Annaa memhar of the Sanhadrin Annas l