heavily fringed walls of the forest?

THE BAPTIZED. We have wandered from our way while seeking the pass of
St. Ignatius. We must retrace our steps immediately, for this is the
spot in which Leonard celebrates the solemnities of the New Faith!

THE MAN. Forward, in the name of God! I must see these solemnities. Fear
nothing, Jew, no one will recognize us.

THE BAPTIZED. Be prudent; our lives hang on a breath!

THE MAN. What enormous ruins are these scattered around us! This
ponderous pile must have lasted centuries before it fell!

Pillars, pedestals, capitals, fallen arches--ha! I am treading upon the
broken remnants of an escutcheon. Bas-reliefs of exquisite sculpture are
scattered about upon the earth! Heavens! that is the sweet face of the
Virgin Mother shining through the heart of the darkness! The light
flickers, I can see it no more. Here are the slight-fluted shafts of a
shrine, panes of colored glass with cherub heads, a carved railing of
bronze, and now, in the light of yonder torch, I see the half of a
monumental figure of a reclining knight in armor thrown upon the burnt
and withered grass: Where am I, Jew?

THE BAPTIZED. You are passing through the graveyard of the last church
of the Old Faith; our people labored forty days and forty nights without
intermission to destroy it; it seemed built for eternal ages.

THE MAN. Your songs and hymns, ye new men, grate harshly on my ears!

Dark forms are moving forward in every direction, from before us, behind
us, and from either side; lights and shadows, driven to and fro by the
wind, float like living spirits through the throng.

A PASSER-BY. I greet you, citizens, in the name of freedom!

SECOND PASSER-BY. I greet you in the name of the slaughter of the
nobles!

THIRD PASSER-BY. The priests chant the praise of freedom; why do you not
hasten forward?

THE BAPTIZED. We cannot resist the pressure of the throng; they drive us
on from every side.

THE MAN. Who is this young man standing in front of us, mounted upon the
ruins of the shrine? Three flames burn beneath him, his face shines from
the midst of fire and smoke, his voice rings like the shriek of a
maniac; and his gestures are rapid and eager?

THE BAPTIZED. That is Leonard, the inspired and enthusiastic prophet of
freedom. Our priests, our philosophers, our poets, our artists, with
their daughters and loved ones, are standing round him.

THE MAN. Ha, I understand; your aristocracy! Point out to