, for the
stone was set in steel. A zigzag-barred steel frame held it fast, and
outside the zigzag bars there was a smooth ring, with some words cut
upon it in Hebrew. The characters were very small; he knew, rather than
saw, that they were Hebrew; but he did not know what they meant. All
this time he had been stooping down, looking at this thing as if it lay
very near the ground. Then suddenly he noticed upon what it was lying.
There was a steel chain fastened to it, and the chain was around the
neck of a woman who lay upon the earth; the jewel was upon her breast.
But how white and cold the breast was! Surely there was no life in it.
And he observed with horror that the garments which had fallen back were
oozing with water, and that the hair was wet. He hardly saw the face;
for a moment he thought he saw it, and that it was the face of a Jewess,
young and beautiful, but the vision passed from him. The chant had
ceased, and the rabbi was kissing his book.

Very solemnly the Jew bowed himself three times and kissed the book,
and then in the twilight of the nine dim lamps he stumbled out and shut
the door, without giving a glance to his one listener.

As for the young Christian priest, he was panic-stricken. When our
senses themselves deceive us we are cut off from our cheerful belief in
the reality of material things, or forced to face the unpleasant fact
that we hold no stable relationship to them. He rushed out into the
street. Issachar was at the entrance as he passed, and he fancied he saw
the face of the reader peeping at him from the vestry window, but he
crushed his hat hard down on his head and strode away, courting the
bluster of the wind, striving by the energy of action to cast off the
trance that seemed to enslave him.

When he reached his own door he found the baker's wife sitting on the
doorstep. It was quite dusk; perhaps that was the reason he did not
recognise her at first.

'La, sir, I found them two muffins lying unbeknown in the corner of the
shelf, so I brought them round, thinking you mightn't 'ave 'ad your
tea.'

'Muffins?' said the curate, as if he were not quite sure what muffins
might be. Then he began to wonder if he was really losing his wits, and
he plunged into talk with the woman, saying anything and everything to
convince himself that he was not asleep or mad. 'Do you know, Mrs.
Yeander, that I am going to be married?'

'Well, I am sure, sir,' said she, curtseying and smiling. 'It'