Oh! if only it belonged to Judas! But it belongs to all these people who are weeping, laughing, chattering as in the market.

It belongs to the sun; it belongs to the cross; to the heart of Jesus, which is dying so slowly.
What an abject heart has Judas! He lays his hand upon it, but it cries out: "Hosanna," so loud that all may hear.

He presses it to the ground, but it cries, "Hosanna, Hosanna!" like a babbler who scatters holy mysteries broadcast through the street.
"Be still! Be still!" Suddenly a loud broken lamentation, dull cries, the last hurried movements towards the cross.

What is it?
Have they understood at last?
No, Jesus is dying.

But can this be?
Yes, Jesus is dying.