e who saw us took the Grand Duke to be an officer in high
command, and us members of his staff.

We had our revolvers ready, but no one molested us, and as we made our
way towards the synagogue, Loris more than once repeated his commands
to the idle soldiers, with the same success.

Barzinsky's inn, where Mishka and I had slept less than a fortnight
back, was utterly wrecked, though the fire had not yet reached it, and
in a heap in the roadway was the corpse of a woman, clad in a dirty
bedgown. Her wig was gone and her skull battered in, but I knew it was
the placid, capable, good-tempered landlady herself. The stumps of her
hands lay palm down in a pool of blood,--all the fingers gone. She had
worn rings, poor soul.

But that was by no means the most sickening sight I saw on that night
of horror!

We reached the square where the synagogue stood, and found it packed
with a frenzied, howling mob, who were raging like wolves round the
gaunt weather-worn stone building. There was no more firing, either
from within or without.

The glass of the two small windows above the doorway--whence, as I
learned later, the defenders had delivered the intermittent fusilade
that had hitherto kept the mob at bay--was smashed, and the space filled
in with hastily fixed barricades. The great door was also doubtless
strongly barricaded, since it still withstood an assault with axes and
hammers that was in progress.

"They shoot no more; they have no more bullets," shrieked a virago in
the crowd. "Burn them out, the filthy _zhits_."

Others took up the cry.

"Burn them out; what folly to batter the door! Bring straw and wood;
burn them out!"

"Keep away,--work round to the left; there will be space soon," growled
Mishka, clutching me back, as I began to force my way forward. "Do as I
say," he added authoritatively.

I guessed he knew best, so I obeyed, and edged round on the outside of
the crowd.

Something whizzed through the air, and fell bang among the crowd,
exploding with a deafening report.

A babel of yells arose,--yells of terror now; and the mob surged back,
leaving a clear space in which several stricken figures were
writhing,--and one lay still.

"Fly!" shouted a stentorian voice. "They are making bombs and throwing
them; fly for your lives. Why should we all perish?"

I was carried back in the rush, and found myself breathless, back
against a wall. Three figures cleared themselves from the ruck, and I
fought m