with which certain disciples of Paul, the tentmaker, pursue the most unfortunate of the apostles of Jesus without realising that the kiss of Iscariot—­prophesied by Jesus Himself—­was necessary, according to their own doctrine, for the redemption of men, and that if Judas had not received the thirty pieces, the divine wisdom would have been impugned, Providence frustrated, its designs upset, and the world given over to evil, ignorance, and death.

Marcus.  Divine wisdom foresaw that Judas, though he was not obliged to give the traitor’s kiss, would give it, notwithstanding.  It thus employed the sin of Iscariot as a stone in the marvellous edifice of the redemption.

Zenothemis.  I spoke just now, Marcus, as though I believed that the redemption of men had been accomplished by Jesus crucified, because I know that such is the belief of the Christians, and I borrowed their opinion that I might the better show the mistake of those who believe in the eternal damnation of Judas.  But, in reality, Jesus was, in my eyes, but the precursor of Basilides and Valentinus.  As to the mystery of the redemption, I will tell you, my dear friends—­if you are at all curious to hear it—­how it was really accomplished on earth.

The guests made a sign of assent.  Like the Athenian virgins with the baskets sacred to Ceres, twelve young girls, bearing on their heads baskets filled with pomegranates and apples, entered the room with a light step, in time to the music of an invisible flute.  They placed the baskets on the table, the flute ceased, and Zenothemis spoke as follows—­

“When Eunoia, ‘the thought of God,’ had created the world, she confided the government of the earth to the angels.  But they did not preserve the dispassion befitting masters.  Seeing that the daughters of men were fair, they surprised them in the evening by the wellside, and united themselves to them.  From these unions sprang a turbulent race, who covered the earth with injustice and cruelty, and the dust of the roads drank up the blood of the innocent.  The sight of this caused Eunoia infinite grief.

“‘See what I have done!’ she sighed, leaning towards the world.  ’My poor children are plunged in misery, and by my fault.  Their suffering is my crime, and I will expiate it.  God Himself, who only thinks through me, would be powerless to restore them to their pristine purity.  That which is done is done, and the creation will remain for ever imperfect.  But, at least, I will not forsake my creatures.  If I cannot make them happy, like me, I can make myself unhappy, like them.  Since I committed the mistake of giving them bodies which dishonour them, I will myself assume a body like unto theirs, and will go and live amongst them.’