ith
quivering hands of supplication. The Ark of the Law at one end of the
great building, overbrooded by the Ten Commandments and the perpetual
light, stood open to mark a supreme moment of devotion. Ben Amram had
been given the honour of uncurtaining the shrine, and its richly clad
scrolls of all sizes, with their silver bells and pointers, stood
revealed in solemn splendour.

Through the ornate grating of their gallery the gaily-clad women
looked down on the rocking figures, while the grace-notes of the
cantor on his central dais, and the harmoniously interjected 'poms' of
his male ministrants flew up to their ears, as though they were indeed
angels on high. Suddenly, over the blended passion of cantor and
congregation, an ominous sound broke from without--the complex clatter
of cavalry, the curt ring of military orders. The swaying figures
turned suddenly as under another wind, the women's eyes grew astare
and ablaze with terror. The great doors flew open, and--oh, awful,
incredible sight--a squadron of Cossacks rode slowly in, two abreast,
with a heavy thud of hoofs on the sacred floor, and a rattle of
ponderous sabres. Their black conical caps and long beards, their
great side-buttoned coats, and pockets stuffed with protrusive
cartridges, their prancing horses, their leaded knouts, struck a
blood-curdling discord amid the prayerful, white-wrapped figures. The
rumble of worship ceased, the cantor, suddenly isolated, was heard
soaring ecstatically; then he, too, turned his head uneasily and his
roulade died in his throat.

'Halt!' the officer cried. The moving column froze. Its bristling
length stretched from the central platform, blocking the aisle, and
the courtyard echoed with the clanging hoofs of its rear, which backed
into the school and the poor-house. The _Shamash_ (beadle) was seen to
front the flamboyant invaders.

'Why does your Excellency intrude upon our prayers to God?'

The congregation felt its dignity return. Who would have suspected Red
Judah of such courage--such apt speech? Why, the very Rabbi was
petrified; the elders of the _Kahal_ stood dumb. Ben Amram himself,
their spokesman to the Government, whose praying-shawl was embroidered
with a silver band, and whose coat was satin, remained immovable
between the pillars of the Ark, staring stonily at the brave beadle.

'First of all, for the boy's blood!'

The words rang out with military precision, and the speaker's horse
pawed clangorously