“O Ananias! Ananias!” said Simon, shaking his head with mock gravity, “were you not once an accomplice with me in a plot to slay a Roman citizen? ’Tis clear you have forgotten my face: let me recall it to you. Did there not once come to you--’tis eight years ago now--forty Sicarii,[6] of whom I was one, offering to slay Paul of Tarsus, a Roman citizen, mark you! and freeborn? Did you not readily join in the plot? And now do you disavow your old friend Simon? Nay, verily, be honest, and take your trial with me.” Over the face of Ananias there had suddenly crept a look scarcely compatible with the idea of innocence. “Will no one stop the mouth of the lying knave?” he cried, trembling with passion. “Your looks sufficiently show who is the lying knave,” answered Simon coolly. “If ye desire proof of this, my accusation,” he continued, addressing the court, “send to Jerusalem for Paul’s nephew; he will confirm what I say. Does the court agree that Ananias shall take his trial with me?” added Simon, looking around him with a sardonic smile. “No? And yet ’tis the fashion of Romans to boast of their justice!--justice, forsooth!” “Prisoner,” said Florus, “be not so free of tongue, and you may find that our Roman justice, whose purity you seem to question, can be tempered with mercy.” “Now, let the court carefully mark that little speech,” said Simon coolly, “for, being interpreted, it meaneth, ‘Keep quiet as to _my_ doings, O Simon, and I will endeavor to procure your release.’ But in vain do you offer me the bribe of life, O Florus, in order to stay my tongue. Welcome torture, scourgings, death, if I do but succeed in hurling you from power.” Simon was not to be appeased, and Florus, catching sight of Tertullus’ smile, suddenly realized the lawyer’s motive in pressing for the public trial of the Zealot. It was to ruin him--Florus! It was out of the question either to gag the prisoner or to declare the court closed; either alternative would expose him to suspicion. He, the judge, must sit and listen to an accusation, which, even if it were untrue, would be greedily believed by nine out of every ten, so unpopular was he with the people over whom he ruled. And when the story should reach Rome, as it undoubtedly would--his enemies would take good care of that!--it might mean the loss, not only of his procuratorship, as Simon had said, but even of his life. “The brazen effrontery of this knave!” said he, assuming a stern bearing. “Knowing that his doom is certain, he seeks to delay sentence by vilifying the character of his judges. Go, lictors, bring hither the flagellum.” “And, when brought, apply it to the shoulders of the robber Florus,” said Simon. “Ye see for yourselves,” said Florus, turning to the assessors, “what an incorrigible villain this is!”