who will come.
Listen! Ah, God of Abraham! Do you not hear?'

Unmistakably the howl of a riotous mob was approaching, mingled with
the reedy strains of an accordion.

'Down with the _Zhits_! Death to the dirty Jews!'

'God in heaven!' She released her husband, and ran towards the
children with a gesture as of seeking to gather them all in her arms.
Then, hearing the bolts shot back, she turned with a scream. 'Are you
mad, Aaron?'

But he, holding her back with his gaze, threw wide the door with his
left hand, while his right upheld Elijah's goblet, and over the
ululation of the unseen mob and the shrill spasms of music rose his
Hebrew welcome to the visitor: '_Baruch habaa!_'

Hardly had the greeting left his lips when a wild flying figure in a
rich furred coat dashed round the corner and almost into his arms,
half-spilling the wine.

'In God's name, Reb Aaron!' panted the refugee, and fell half-dead
across the threshold.

The physician dragged him hastily within, and slammed the door, just
as two moujiks--drunken leaders of the chase--lurched past. The
mother, who had sprung forward at the sound of the fall, frenziedly
shot the bolts, and in another instant the hue and cry tore past the
house and dwindled in the distance.

Ben Amram raised the white bloody face, and put Elijah's goblet to the
lips. The strange visitor drained it to the dregs, the clustered
children looking on dazedly. As the head fell back, it caught the
light from the festive candles of the Passover board. The face was
bare of hair; even the side curls were gone.

'Maimon the _Meshummad_!' cried the mother, shuddering back. 'You have
saved the Apostate.'

'Did I not say the door must be opened?' replied Ben Amram gently.
Then a smile of humour twitched his lips, and he smoothed his white
beard. 'Maimon is the only Jew abroad to-night, and how were the poor
drunken peasants to know he was baptized?'

Despite their thrill of horror at the traitor, David and his brothers
and sisters were secretly pleased to see Elijah's goblet empty at
last.

III

Next morning the Passover liturgy rang jubilantly through the vast,
crowded synagogue. No violence had been reported, despite the passage
of a noisy mob. The Ghetto, then, was not to be laid waste with fire
and sword, and the worshippers within the moss-grown, turreted
quadrangle drew free breath, and sent it out in great shouts of
rhythmic prayer, as they swayed in their fringed shawls, w