rhaps it was only the heat and the glare of the burning candles; but
gradually a strange spell came over him, which he tried in vain to shake
off.

He could not remember ever having been in a synagogue, and yet the
praying-desks, the pulpit and the ark for the holy scrolls seemed
singularly familiar. He looked up. Yes, there was the latticed gallery
filled with women, just as he had expected to find it!

The _hazan_ was intoning a prayer. Between the words he interjected a
number of strange trills and turns. How weird it all sounded, and yet
how familiar to the wondering priest. Mikail found himself almost
instinctively supplying the following word before it was uttered by the
reader. Then the congregation arose and responded to the prayer, and
Mikail arose, too, and it seemed as though the words of the responses
were laid upon his tongue.

It was strange, very strange, and yet it was fascinating.

Again the congregation arose. The Rabbi went to the ark at the back of
the pulpit and took out one of the scrolls, covered with a red velvet
cloth curiously embroidered with golden letters. Mikail followed his
every movement with intense interest. He scarcely breathed.

"_Shema Israel,_" sang the Rabbi; "_Adonai Elohenu,_" and then he paused
a moment to clear his throat of something he must have inhaled.

"Why don't he continue," thought Mikail, impatient at the momentary
interruption, and then in a voice loud enough to be heard over the
entire synagogue, he ended the sentence by crying:

"_Adonai Echod!_"

All turned to look at the speaker, and they whispered among themselves
in surprise at hearing a monk recite the _shema_ in a _schul_. The women
looked down from the gallery in amazement.

Mikail's face flushed. His first impulse was to flee, to get out of the
accursed place, to break the spell of enchantment that bound him. With a
muttered prayer he strode to the door, only to find it locked from
without. It was customary to bolt the door during certain portions of
the service, to prevent noise and consequent disturbance.

The priest was therefore obliged to remain. Obeying a natural impulse,
he made the sign of the cross, set his jaws firmly, and awaited further
developments.

The _hazan_ opened the Pentateuch and the _parnas_ of the congregation
was called to the _Torah_. Every movement was anticipated by the priest.
The parnas reverently lifted the fringes of his _tallis_, and with them
touched the sacred S