"He is mad," they whispered, and turning their backs upon him, they
continued their excesses.

Loris had in the meantime entered the room in which he had kneeled to
the beautiful Kathinka.

The Rabbi with his aged father and a number of beardless youths, pupils
of his school, guarded the door leading to the inner room, in which the
women and girls had taken refuge. They had armed themselves with chairs
and whatever happened to be within reach, and with these primitive
weapons they expected to hold the enemy in check. As well endeavor to
stay the flood of the mighty Dnieper with a net drawn across its stream!
The mob charged upon them with an impetus that could not be resisted.
The Rabbi, single-handed, felled two powerful _moujiks_; then he himself
fell bleeding to the floor. His gray-bearded father was dealt a blow on
the head from a stout cudgel, and he lay upon the ground in the agonies
of death. The young men seeing that resistance but increased their
peril, threw down their weapons and fled, leaving the inner room with
its helpless inmates in the hands of the rioters.

Loris was the first to enter, and his companions were not slow in
following his example. A number of maidens, crazed with horror, sprang
from the windows, only to fall into the arms of the rabble without.
Three of the women were killed in the heroic struggle for their honor
and not less than twenty suffered indignities worse than death.

The Rabbi's wife, Recha, succeeding in escaping the vigilance of the
invading party and hurried into the outer room. Suddenly her eyes
encountered the form of her husband lying upon the floor, bathed in
blood and apparently dead. With a shriek she threw herself upon his
prostrate body. When her friends attempted to move her after the danger
had passed, they found that terror and grief had done their work. Recha
had lost her reason.

On his entrance into the room, Loris gazed about him, and soon singled
out Kathinka, standing among her friends, silently praying. With a cry
of mingled joy and rage, he threw himself upon her and put his arms
firmly around her.

"Ha! beautiful Kathinka!" he said, ironically; "so we meet again. How
happy you must be to see me! Yes, I love you still, and you shall be
mine, all mine! Don't struggle, sweet one; I shall remove you to my
dwelling, far from all this noise and tumult. Ho, there! make room there
for me and my prize!"

Lifting the struggling maiden in his arms, he presse