“I am going by myself to the desert, where no company is needed. I’m going there to speak with God.”

“With God?” said Peter, covering his face. “But then you’ll never return!”

“I shall return,” said Jesus with a sigh. “I must return. The world is suspended by a single thread. God will give me instructions, and I shall return.”

“When? How many days will you be absent again? Look how you’re leaving us!” they all shouted, holding on to him so that he would not go.

But Judas stood apart, silent, and looked at them with scorn. “Sheep… sheep…” he grumbled. “I thank the God of Israel that I am a wolf.”

“I shall return when God wishes, brothers. Farewell. Stay here and wait for me. Until then, goodbye!”

The brothers stood petrified and watched him move slowly toward the desert. He did not walk now as before, when he hardly touched the ground, but heavily, thoughtfully. He picked a reed to lean upon, mounted the arched bridge, stopped at its middle, and looked down. On all sides he saw pilgrims immersed in the muddy current of the river, their sun-blackened faces shining happily. Opposite them, on the shore, others still beat their breasts and confessed their sins to the air, watching with inflamed eyes for the Baptist to signal their turn to plunge into the holy water. Sunk hip-deep in the Jordan, the wild ascetic baptized the people in whole flocks, then, angrily, without love, pushed them toward the shore whence new flocks followed behind them. His pointed, jet-black beard shone in the sun, as did his fuzzy hair, which had never been cut; and continued shouts came from his wide, massive, eternally opened mouth.

Jesus swept his eyes over the river, the people, and in the distance the Dead Sea, the mountains of Arabia, the desert. He leaned over and saw his shadow undulating with the current toward the Dead Sea.

How nice it would be, he thought, to sit at the edge of the river and watch the water flow toward the sea with the trees, birds, clouds and at night the stars all reflected in it and flowing too; how nice if I could roll along also and not be devoured by this care for the world.

But he shook himself, banished the temptation, pulled himself away from the bridge and, descending with quick steps, disappeared behind the bleak rocks. The redbeard stood on the shore keeping constant watch over him. He saw him disappear and, fearing that he might escape, rolled up his sleeves and followed behind, overtaking him just as he was about to enter the endless sea of sand.

“Son of David, stop!” he called to him. “Why are you leaving me like this?”

Jesus turned. “Judas, my brother,” he said supplicatingly, “do not come farther. I must be alone.”

“I want to learn your secret!” said Judas, advancing.

“Don’t be in a hurry. You will learn it when the time comes. But I’ll tell you this much, Judas, my brother: be happy, everything is going well!”

“ ‘Everything is going well’ is not enough for me. A wolf’s hunger is not appeased with words. Maybe you don’t know that, but I do.”

“If you love me, be patient. Look at the trees. Are they in a hurry to ripen their fruit?”

“I’m not a tree, I’m a man,” the redbeard objected, coming closer. “I’m a man, and that means a thing which is in a hurry. I go by my own laws.”

“The law of God is the same, whether for trees or men, Judas.”

The redbeard ground his teeth. “And what is that law called?” he asked sarcastically.

“Time.”

Judas stood still and clenched his fist. He did not accept this law. Its pace was excessively slow, whereas he had not a moment to lose. The depths of his being held to another law, his own, opposite to that of Time.

“God lives for many years,” he shouted. “He is immortal; he can be patient therefore and wait. But I’m human, a thing, I tell you, that’s in a hurry. I don’t want to die before I see what I have now only in my mind-not only see it, but touch it with my hands!”

“You shall see it,” answered Jesus, waving his hand to calm him. “You shall see and touch it, Judas, my brother-have faith. Goodbye! God is waiting for me in the desert.”

“I’ll come along.”

“The desert is not big enough for two. Go back.”

The redbeard growled and bared his teeth like a sheep dog that hears his master’s voice. Head bowed, he turned around and marched heavily over the bridge, talking to himself. He remembered when he roamed the mountains with Barabbas-God bless him!-and the other rebels. What an atmosphere of ferocity and freedom! What a splendid leader of cutthroats was the God of Israel! That was the kind of leader he needed. Why did he follow this clairvoyant who was scared of blood and shouted “Love! Love!” like a panting young girl? But let’s be patient, Judas reflected, and see what he brings back from the desert!

Jesus had now entered the desert. The more he advanced, the more he felt he had gone into a lion’s cave. He shuddered, not from fear, but from a dark, inexplicable joy. He was happy. Why? He could not explain it. Suddenly, he remembered, remembered a dream he had one night when he was still a child hardly able to talk. It seemed thousands of years ago: the earliest dream he was able to recall. He had worked his way into a deep cave and found a lioness who had given birth and was suckling her cubs. When he saw her, he grew hungry and thirsty, lay down and began to suckle with the lion cubs. Afterward it seemed that they all went out to a meadow and began to play in the sun, but while they were frisking, Mary, his mother, appeared in his dream, saw him with the lions and screamed. He awoke and turned angrily to his mother, who was sleeping at his side. Why did you wake me up? he shouted at her. I was with my brothers and my mother!

Now I understand why I am happy, he reflected. I am entering my mother’s cave, the cave of the lioness, of solitude…

He heard the disquieting hiss of snakes, and of the burning wind which blew between the rocks, and of the invisible spirits of the desert.

Jesus bent over and spoke to his soul. “My soul, here you will show whether or not you are immortal.”

Hearing steps behind him, he cocked his ear. There was the crunching of sand. Someone was walking toward him, calmly, surely. I forgot her, he thought, shuddering, but she did not forget me. She is coming with me; my mother is coming with me… He knew very well that it was the Curse, but he had been calling her Mother to himself now for such a long time.

He marched on, forcing his thoughts elsewhere. He recalled the wild dove. A savage bird seemed to be imprisoned within him-or was it his soul rushing to escape? Perhaps it had escaped; perhaps the wild dove which chirped and flew circles over him the whole time he was being baptized was his soul, not a bird or a Seraph, but his own soul.

This was the answer. He started out again, calm. He heard the footsteps behind him crunching the sand, but his heart was steady now; he could at last endure everything with dignity. Man’s soul, he reflected, is all-powerful; it can take on whatever appearance it likes. At that instant it became a bird and flew over me… But as he marched tranquilly along, suddenly he cried out and stopped. The thought had come to him that perhaps the dove was an illusion, a buzzing in his ear, a whirling of the air-because he remembered how his body had gleamed, light and omnipotent, like a soul, how whatever he wanted to hear he had heard, whatever he wanted to see he had seen… He had built castles in the air. “O God, O God,” he murmured, “now that we shall be alone, tell me the truth, do not deceive me. I am weary of hearing voices in the air.

He advanced and the sun advanced with him. It had finally reached the top of the sky, directly above his head. His feet were burning in the fiery sand. He spied around him to find some shade, and as he did so, he heard wings flapping above him and saw a flock of crows rush into a pit where there was a stinking black object in the process of decay.