to the
marketplace, and up the narrow lane that leads to the chief town gate.

There is something in the very nature of power that demands homage, and
the people of Tetuan could not deny it to Israel. As the procession went
through the town they cleared a way for it, and they were silent until
it had gone. Within the gate of the Mellah, a shocket was killing fowls
and taking his tribute of copper coins, but he stopped his work and fell
back as the procession approached. A blind beggar crouching at the other
side of the gate was reciting passages of the Koran, and two Arabs close
at his elbow were wrangling over a game at draughts which they were
playing by the light of a flare, but both curses and Koran ceased as the
procession passed under the arch. In the market-place a Soosi juggler
was performing before a throng of laughing people, and a story-teller
was shrieking to the twang of his ginbri; but the audience of the
juggler broke up as the procession appeared, and the ginbri of the
storyteller was no more heard. The hammering in the shops of
the gunsmiths was stopped, and the tinkling of the bells of the
water-carriers was silenced. Mules bringing wood from the country were
dragged out of the path, and the town asses, with their panniers full of
street-filth, were drawn up by the wall. From the market-place and out
of the shops, out of the houses and out of the mosque itself, the people
came trooping in crowds, and they made a long close line on either side
of the course which the procession must take. And through this avenue
of onlookers the strange company made its way--the two prisoners
bearing the plumes, the four others bearing the coffin, the two soldiers
carrying the lanterns, and Israel last of all, unsupported and alone.
Nothing was heard in the silence of the people but the tramp of the feet
of the six men, and the clank of their chains.

The light of the lanterns was on the faces of some of them, and every
one knew them for what they were. It was on the face of Israel also, yet
he did not flinch. His head was held steadily upward; he looked neither
to the right nor to the left, but strode firmly along.

The Jewish cemetery was outside the town walls, and before the
procession came to it the darkness had closed in. Its flat white
tombstones, all pointing toward Jerusalem, lay in the gloom like a flock
of sheep asleep among the grass. It had no gate but a gap in the fence,
and no fence but a hedge of the p