third member of the company.

The two last, with the other guests, are engaged at their meal, and in
conversation. The door is darkened by a strange figure; all eyes are
riveted on the apparition; the Magdalen enters, faded, distressed, with
long dishevelled hair. She has no introduction; she says nothing;
indeed, in all this remarkable scene she never speaks; her silence is as
significant as it is profound. She goes behind the couch where Jesus,
according to Oriental custom, is reclined. She drops at his feet; there
her tears stream; there the speechless agony of her soul bursts. Observe
the workings of the moment. See how those people are affected. Surprise
on the part of Simon and his friends turns to scorn, and this shades
into indignation. Jesus is calm, collected, and intently thoughtful. The
woman is overwhelmed by her situation. The lip of Simon curls, his eye
flashes with fire of outraged virtue. Jesus meets his gaze with equal
fire, but it is all of pure heavenly feeling. Simon moves to have the
vagabond expelled; Christ interrupts the attempt. But the honor of the
house is insulted. Yes, but the undying interests of the soul are at
stake. But the breath of the woman is ritual poison, and her touch will
bring down the curses of the law. But the look of Christ indicates that
depth of spirituality before which the institutions of Moses flee away
as chaff before the wind. Simon has some esteem for Jesus, and in this
juncture his sensations take a turn of pity, spiced, perhaps, with a
little contempt, and he says with himself,--"Surely, this man cannot be
a prophet, as is pretended, or he would know who and what sort of woman
it is that touches him; for she is a sinner; she is unclean and
reprobate."

"Simon!" says Jesus, with a tone that pierced to the worthy host's
heart, and arrested the force of his pious alarm,--"Simon!"