“He told the rich man to sell all that he had and give to the poor,” Mario began again, the dissentient outbursts of his audience succeeded now by sullen murmurs here and there. “He told him, too, that it was harder for him to get into Paradise than for a camel to go through a needle’s eye. He always had a good word for the poor, and He was never afraid to speak out. And what happened? You all know. So I ask you, for your good,--men and women of Milan,--before you kill His beautiful likeness there, as the heedless ones of old killed Him--before you do this let us look well upon His face, that we may remember long the man who dared to tell the wearers of purple and fine linen that their gifts were not so great as the widow’s mite.” He paused a moment and no voice in the crowd made reply. “Most of you have looked upon this picture before,” he continued, every ear attentive now, “for I see among you the faces of those who live in the neighbourhood, and the door here has always been open.” “It wasn’t open to-day!” broke in one fellow. “But we got in all the same. Eh, comrades?” “Shut up!” commanded Red Errico, and he was supported by others hissing for silence. “Can’t you wait till Signor Forza has finished?” “I am not here to make a long speech, friends,” Mario said, smiling. “It is only that I thought it would be good for all of us to have one more calm look at the faces in this group of famous workingmen. They were toilers, like yourselves, those men seated on each side of Christ. It is the hour before Gethsemane. He is going to leave them soon, to be nailed to the cross for telling the world that the labourer is worthy of his hire, and other things just as true. See what honest faces those men have--all but one! Do you see which this is? Can you point out Judas the traitor?” “Yes, yes!” a score of voices answered. “The one next to Christ.” “Donkey! There’s one on each side of Him!” “He of the long nose.” “The fellow that’s grasping the bag of silver!” “Give us more light!” cried others in the rear of the throng. “We can’t see much!” Mario told them to pull back the hangings at the windows, and this was done so promptly and with such vigour by many hands that some of the curtains were jerked from their fastenings. “Yes; Judas has his pieces of silver,” Mario resumed, glancing toward the man who had observed Iscariot’s hand gripping the bribe; “and when Christ says ‘One of you shall betray me’ the traitor holds up one hand as if to say ‘Really, I can’t believe that.’ But you see that the brand of guilt is on his face none the less. What a picture it is, and how proud your forefathers have been of it, men and women of Milan. Do you know how long it has been on that wall?” “I do!” Red Errico called out. “Four hundred years!”