The prisoner. The other eye remained closed.

Pilate began speaking in Greek, " So you intended to destroy the temple building and were inciting the people to do this? "

Here the prisoner again became animated, the fear disappeared from his eyes, and he began in Greek, " I, goo—, " the prisoner's eyes flashed with horror at having again almost said the wrong thing, " Never in my life, Hegemon, have I intended to destroy the temple nor have I ever tried to instí gate such a senseless action."

A look of surprise crossed the face of the secretary, who was bent over a low table, writing down the testimony. He raised his head, but then immediately lowered it to the parchment.

" All kinds of different people flock into the city for the holiday. Among them are magi, astrologers, soothsayers, and murderers, " said the procurator in a monotone. " And liars as well. You, for example. It is plainly written: He incited the people to destroy the temple. People have testified to that."

Those good people, " began the prisoner, and after hastily adding, " Hegemon, " he continued, " are ignorant and have muddled what I said. In fact, I'm beginning to fear that this confusion will go on for a long time. And all because he writes down what I said incorrectly."

Silence ensued. Now both pained eyes gazed at the prisoner seriously.

" I will tell you again, but for the last time: stop pretending to be crazy, villain, " said Pilate in a soft monotone. " Not much has been recorded against you, but it is enough to hang you."

" No, no, Hegemon, " said the prisoner, straining every nerve in his desire to be convincing, " There's someone who follows, follows me around everywhere, always writing on a goatskin parchment. And once I happened to see the parchment and was aghast. Absolutely nothing that was written there did I ever say. I begged him, 'For God's sake burn your parchment! ' But he snatched it out of my hands and ran away."

" Who is he? " asked Pilate distastefully, touching his hand to his temple.

" Levi Matvei, " the prisoner explained willingly. " He was a tax collector, and I first met him on a road in Bethphage at the place where the fig orchard juts out at an angle, and I struck up a conversation with him. At first he treated me with hostility and even insulted me, that is, he thought he was insulting me by calling me a dog, " —here the prisoner laughed. " I personally have no bad feelings about dogs that would cause me to take offense at the name..."