Old Judas

by Guy de Maupassant

　　

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This entire stretch of country was amazing; it was characterized by agrandeur that was almost religious, and yet it had an air of sinisterdesolation.A great, wild lake, filled with stagnant, black water, in which thousandsof reeds were waving to and fro, lay in the midst of a vast circle ofnaked hills, where nothing grew but broom, or here and there an oakcuriously twisted by the wind.Just one house stood on the banks of that dark lake, a small, low houseinhabited by Uncle Joseph, an old boatman, who lived on what he couldmake by his fishing. Once a week he carried the fish he caught into thesurrounding villages, returning with the few provisions that he neededfor his sustenance.I went to see this old hermit, who offered to take me with him to hisnets, and I accepted.His boat was old, worm-eaten and clumsy, and the skinny old man rowedwith a gentle and monotonous stroke that was soothing to the soul,already oppressed by the sadness of the land round about.It seemed to me as if I were transported to olden times, in the midst ofthat ancient country, in that primitive boat, which was propelled by aman of another age.He took up his nets and threw the fish into the bottom of the boat, asthe fishermen of the Bible might have done. Then he took me down to theend of the lake, where I suddenly perceived a ruin on the other side ofthe bank a dilapidated hut, with an enormous red cross on the wall thatlooked as if it might have been traced with blood, as it gleamed in thelast rays of the setting sun."What is that?" I asked."That is where Judas died," the man replied, crossing himself.I was not surprised, being almost prepared for this strange answer.Still I asked:"Judas? What Judas?""The Wandering Jew, monsieur," he added.I asked him to tell me this legend.But it was better than a legend, being a true story, and quite a recentone, since Uncle Joseph had known the man.This hut had formerly been occupied by a large woman, a kind of beggar,who lived on public charity.Uncle Joseph did not remember from whom she had this hut. One evening anold man with a white beard, who seemed to be at least two hundred yearsold, and who could hardly drag himself along, asked alms of this forlornwoman, as he passed her dwelling."Sit down, father," she replied; "everything here belongs to all theworld, since it comes from all the world."He sat down on a stone before the door. He shared the woman's bread, herbed of leaves, and her house.He did not leave her again, for he had come to the end of his travels."It was Our Lady the Virgin who permitted this, monsieur," Joseph added,"it being a woman who had opened her door to a Judas, for this oldvagabond was the Wandering Jew. It was not known at first in thecountry, but the people suspected it very soon, because he was alwayswalking; it had become a sort of second nature to him."And suspicion had been aroused by still another thing. This woman, whokept that stranger with her, was thought to be a Jewess, for no one hadever seen her at church. For ten miles around no one ever called heranything else but the Jewess.When the little country children saw her come to beg they cried out:"Mamma, mamma, here is the Jewess!"The old man and she began to go out together into the neighboringdistricts, holding out their hands at all the doors, stammeringsupplications into the ears of all the passers. They could be seen atall hours of the day, on by-paths, in the villages, or again eatingbread, sitting in the noon heat under the shadow of some solitary tree.And the country people began to call the beggar Old Judas.One day he brought home in his sack two little live pigs, which a farmerhad given him after he had cured the farmer of some sickness.Soon he stopped begging, and devoted himself entirely to his pigs.He took them out to feed by the lake, or under isolated oaks, or in thenear-by valleys. The woman, however, went about all day begging, but shealways came back to him in the evening.He also did not go to church, and no one ever had seen him cross himselfbefore the wayside crucifixes. All this gave rise to much gossip:One night his companion was attacked by a fever and began to tremble likea leaf in the wind. He went to the nearest town to get some medicine,and then he shut himself up with her, and was not seen for six days.The priest, having heard that the "Jewess" was about to die, came tooffer the consolation of his religion and administer the last sacrament.Was she a Jewess? He did not know. But in any case, he wished to try tosave her soul.Hardly had he knocked at the door when old Judas appeared on thethreshold, breathing hard, his eyes aflame, his long beard agitated,like rippling water, and he hurled blasphemies in an unknown language,extending his skinny arms in order to prevent the priest from entering.The priest attempted to speak, offered his purse and his aid, but the oldman kept on abusing him, making gestures with his hands as if throwing;stones at him.Then the priest retired, followed by the curses of the beggar.The companion of old Judas died the following day. He buried herhimself, in front of her door. They were people of so little accountthat no one took any interest in them.Then they saw the man take his pigs out again to the lake and up thehillsides. And he also began begging again to get food. But the peoplegave him hardly anything, as there was so much gossip about him. Everyone knew, moreover, how he had treated the priest.Then he disappeared. That was during Holy Week, but no one paid anyattention to him.But on Easter Sunday the boys and girls who had gone walking out to thelake heard a great noise in the hut. The door was locked; but the boysbroke it in, and the two pigs ran out, jumping like gnats. No one eversaw them again.The whole crowd went in; they saw some old rags on the floor, thebeggar's hat, some bones, clots of dried blood and bits of flesh in thehollows of the skull.His pigs had devoured him."This happened on Good Friday, monsieur." Joseph concluded his story,"three hours after noon.""How do you know that?" I asked him."There is no doubt about that," he replied.I did not attempt to make him understand that it could easily happen thatthe famished animals had eaten their master, after he had died suddenlyin his hut.As for the cross on the wall, it had appeared one morning, and no oneknew what hand traced it in that strange color.Since then no one doubted any longer that the Wandering Jew had died onthis spot.I myself believed it for one hour.

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