“Quiet! Quiet!” bellowed Paul, grasping his temples for fear they would burst.

But how could Jesus remain silent! He felt as though these words had been encased in his breast for years. Now his heart had opened and they were gushing out. The Negro clung to his arm. “Quiet! Quiet!” he said to him, but Jesus threw him to the ground with one shake and turned to Paul.

“Yes, yes. I’ll tell everything. I must find relief! What I should have suffered while awake, I suffered in my sleep. I escaped; I came to this tiny village under another name and with another body. Here I lead the life of a man: I eat, drink, work and have children. The great conflagration subsided, I too became a kind tranquil fire; I curled up in the fireplace, and my wife cooks the children’s meals. I set sail to conquer the world but cast anchor in this tiny domestic trough. And that’s that-I have no complaints. I am son of man, I tell you, not son of God… And don’t go around the whole world to publish lies. I shall stand up and proclaim the truth!”

Now it was Paul’s turn to explode. “Shut your shameless mouth!” he shouted, rushing at him. “Be quiet, or men will hear you and die of fright. In the rottenness, the injustice and poverty of this world, the Crucified and Resurrected Jesus has been the one precious consolation for the honest man, the wronged man. True or false-what do I care! It’s enough if the world is saved!”

“It’s better the world perish with the truth than be saved with lies. At the core of such a salvation sits the great worm Satan.”

“What is ‘truth’? What is ‘falsehood’? Whatever gives wings to men, whatever produces great works and great souls and lifts us a man’s height above the earth-that is true. Whatever clips off man’s wings-that is false.”

“You won’t keep quiet, will you, son of Satan! The wings you talk about are just like the wings of Lucifer.”

“No, I won’t keep quiet. I don’t give a hoot about what’s true and what’s false, or whether I saw him or didn’t see him, or whether he was crucified or wasn’t crucified. I create the truth, create it out of obstinacy and longing and faith. I don’t struggle to find it-I build it. I build it taller than man and thus I make man grow. If the world is to be saved, it is necessary-do you hear-absolutely necessary for you to be crucified, and I shall crucify you, like it or not; it is necessary for you to be resurrected, and I shall resurrect you, like it or not. For all I care you can sit here in your miserable village and manufacture cradles, troughs and children. If you want to know, I shall compel the air to take your shape. Body, crown of thorns, nails, blood… The whole works is now part of the machinery of salvation-everything is indispensable. And in every corner of the earth, innumerable eyes will look up and see you in the air-crucified. They will weep, and the tears will cleanse their souls of all their sins. But on the third day I shall raise you from the dead, because there is no salvation without a resurrection. The final, the most horrible, enemy is death. I shall abolish death. How? By resurrecting you as Jesus, son of God-the Messiah!”

“It’s not true. I’ll stand up and shout that I wasn’t crucified, didn’t rise from the dead, am not God!… Why do you laugh?”

“Shout all you want. I’m not afraid of you. I don’t even need you any more. The wheel you set in motion has gathered momentum: who can control it now? To tell you the truth, while you were talking there I felt for a minute like falling upon you and strangling you just in case you might accidentally reveal your identity and show poor mankind that you weren’t crucified. But I calmed down immediately. Why shouldn’t he shout? I asked myself. The faithful will seize you, will throw you on the pyre for a blasphemer and burn you!”

“I said only one word, brought only one message: Love. Love-nothing else.”

“By saying ‘Love’ you let loose all the angels and demons that were asleep within the bowels of mankind. ‘Love’ is not, as you think, a simple, tranquil word. Within it lie armies being massacred, burning cities, and much blood. Rivers of blood, rivers of tears: the face of the earth has changed. You can cry now as much as you like; you can make yourself hoarse yelling, ‘I didn’t want to say that-that is not love. Do not kill each other! We’re all brothers! Stop!’… But how, poor wretch, can they stop? What’s done is done!”

“You laugh like a devil.”

“No, like an apostle. I shall become your apostle whether you like it or not. I shall construct you and your life and your teachings and your crucifixion and resurrection just as I wish. Joseph the Carpenter of Nazareth did not beget you; I begot you-I, Paul the scribe from Tarsus in Cilicia.”

“No! No!”

“Who asked you? I have no need of your permission. Why do you stick your nose in my affairs?”

Jesus collapsed onto the drying platform of the yard and sank his head between his knees, hopeless. How could he come to grips with this demon?

Paul stood over the prostrate Jesus and addressed him scornfully. “How can the world be saved by you, Master Lazarus? What uplifted example do you offer the world to make it follow you? With you, will it surpass its own nature, will its soul sprout wings? If the world wants to be saved, it will listen to me-me!”

He looked around him. The yard was deserted. Curled up in one corner, his brilliantly white eyes rolling, the Negro was howling like a chained-in sheep dog. The women were in hiding; the neighbors had fled. But Paul-as though, to his eyes, the yard was a great boundless square filled with people-mounted the platform with one hop and began to preach to the invisible multitude.

“Brothers, lift up your eyes. Look! On one side, Master Lazarus; on the other, Paul, the servant of Christ. Choose! If you go with him, with Master Lazarus, you will lead a life of poverty, bound to the treadmill; you will live and die as sheep live and die-they leave behind them a little wool, a few bleats and a great deal of dung. If you come with me: love, struggle, war-we shall conquer the world! Choose! On one side, Christ, the son of God, the salvation of the world; on the other, Master Lazarus!”

He had caught fire. He swept his round eagle eyes over the invisible multitudes. His blood was boiling. The walls of the yard crumbled down; the Negro boy and Master Lazarus vanished. He heard a voice in the air.

“Apostle of the nations, great soul, you who knead falsehood with your blood and tears and turn it into truth: take the lead and guide us. How far will we go?”

Paul opened wide his arms. Embracing the whole world, he cried, “As far as man’s eye can reach. Even farther. As far as man’s heart can reach! The world is large-glory be to God! Beyond the land of Israel are Egypt, Syria, Phoenicia, Asia Minor, Greece and the large wealthy islands of Cypress, Rhodes and Crete. Farther away: Rome. Still farther, with their long blond tresses and double-edged hatchets: the Barbarians… What joy to set out early in the morning, the wind of the mountains or the sea in our faces, to hold the cross, to plant it in the rocks and in the hearts of men-and to take possession of the world! What joy to be shunned, beaten, thrown in deep pits and killed-all for the sake of Christ!”

He came to himself and quieted down. The invisible multitude vanished into the air. He turned and saw Jesus, who was leaning now against the wall listening to him, aghast.

“For the sake of Christ… Not you, Master Lazarus, but the true Christ-my Christ!”

Unable to control himself any longer, Jesus burst into sobs.

The young Negro approached him. “Jesus of Nazareth,” he said softly, “why are you crying?”

“Secret companion,” Jesus murmured, “how can anyone see the only way the world can be saved and not be forced to weep?”

Paul now descended from the platform. The scanty hair on his head was steaming. He took off his sandals, banged them to remove the dust and turned toward the street door.