d through the crowd,
out into the street. There he set down his precious burden and paused to
regain his breath.

Kathinka looked hastily about her. There were many in the crowd who had
known her since her childhood, many whom her father had befriended, but
they stood passively by and abstained from offering her either
assistance or sympathy. Then, as Loris again wound his arms about her;
she cried loudly for help:

"Come to my aid," she cried, imploringly. "Do none of you know me; will
none lend me a helping hand? I am Kathinka, the daughter of Rabbi
Winenki! Will no one raise his arm in my defence?"

There was no reply to her appeal; the rioters had no mercy for the
despised Jewess.

Of a sudden the crowd parted. Thank God, there was a champion for
Kathinka. Mikail the priest elbowed his way through the dense mass of
maddened humanity and with eyes wilder and face more haggard than
before, he approached the shrieking girl. With a cry of fury, he fell
upon Loris and endeavored to tear him from his victim. Loris was for a
moment too astonished to offer any resistance.

"What do you want with me, priest?" he cried, angrily, when he
recognized his assailant.

"I am here to remind you of your honor, of your manhood; to plead with
you in behalf of that poor maiden. You shall not harm a hair of her head
while I have strength to defend her."

"This is, indeed, wonderful!" laughed Loris, mockingly. "The arch
Jew-hater has become the champion of innocence! Go to your monastery,
priest, and leave the battle-field to soldiers!" and pushing Mikail
contemptuously aside, he renewed his hold upon the girl, who,
overpowered by her terror and despair, had become insensible.

At that moment another form pushed its way through the crowd. It was
Joseph, who after great difficulties, had at length succeeded in
reaching the spot. He, too, had heard Kathinka's despairing cry, and had
hastened to protect her. A rapid glance made the situation clear to him
and he at once prepared to attack the Governor's son. But the priest had
forestalled him. With a yell of rage, Mikail threw himself upon the
young ruffian and the two were instantly engaged in a desperate combat.
Loris was inspired by passion and revenge; the priest was moved by a
feeling which he could not himself analyze. The hatred which he bore
Loris broke out in unreasoning fury; he had heard Kathinka's cry of
distress, had heard her assert that she was the daughter of his own