He sipped the drink Chris put in his hand, and after a little of the cold gin had filtered into his bloodstream he felt better. It was a false comfort, he knew, but it was comfort all the same. He went upstairs to the sitting-room, picked out a musictape almost at random, put it on. The selection was a mistake: Handel's _Messiah_, Part III. He listened to the big alto aria that opened the section: ... _I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth:_ _And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God._ _For now is Christ risen from the dead_.... After the final notes of the aria had died away came the chorus, slow, grave: ... _Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead._ _For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive_.... The jubilant tones of "_Even so in Christ_" sent startling shivers of illumination through him; it was as if he had never listened to these words before. ("_Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead_....") The words pursued him everywhere. Twenty minutes later, after the last melisma of "_Amen_," he abruptly turned the set off; dinner was about ready, or at least it should be. It was. He ate quietly, deep in thought. On Saturday he was a little more lively; he worked around the house, took Chris and Paul for an hour-long hike in the early afternoon, spent some time before dinner watching the telecast of the Yankee-Dodger inter-league game from Los Angeles. He and Lois visited neighbors in the evening; it was a pleasant, relaxed three or four hours. He was beginning to think he could forget about the problem that was starting to grow. But Sunday his short-lived forgetfulness ended. It was breakfast-time; Paul was struggling under the bulk of the Sunday _Times_, which had been left in the box outside, and Lois was bringing the pancakes to the table. As he took the paper from his youngest son, Harker turned to Chris and said, "Switch on the audio. Let's see what the morning news is like." There was a click. A resonant, almost cavernous voice said: "... _he saith unto them, Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep. Then said his disciples, Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well. Howbeit Jesus spake of his death: but they thought that he had spoken of taking rest in sleep. Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead. And I_--" Impatiently Chris reached out and changed the station. Harker shook his head, annoyed. "No, Chris. Get that back. I want to hear it." "The _Bible_, Dad?" Harker nodded impatiently. As Chris searched for the original station Lois said, "That's St. Matthew, isn't it?" Chuckling, Harker said, "St. John, unless I've forgotten all my Sunday Schooling. Your father ought to hear you say a thing like that."