ill on their wrists tried to hide themselves in the
darkness behind the pillars.

The axes of the Mohammedans ring against the doors. Splinters of costly
wood fly before the blows. Here a gate cracks, there another is broken
in. The janissaries rush in, thirsting for blood. The Prophet has
commanded that his doctrines shall be spread over the earth by fire and
sword. They are only too ready to obey this order. Already steeped in
blood from the combat outside the walls, they continue to gather in the
harvest with dripping scimitars. The defenceless are fastened together
with chains and driven out like cattle.

Then comes the turn of the holy edifice. The mosaics are hacked to
pieces with swords and lances, the costly altar-cloths are taken from
their store-room, the church is plundered of its gold and silver, and
rows of camels and mules are led in on to the temple floor to be laden
with the immense treasures. Full of fanatical religious hatred, swarms
of black-bearded Turks rush up to the figure of the crucified Redeemer.
A Mohammedan presses his janissary's cap over the crown of thorns. The
image is carried with wild shrieks round the church, and presumptuous
voices call out scornfully, "Here you see the God of the Christians."

At the high altar a Greek bishop stood in pontifical robes and read mass
over the Christians in a loud and clear voice. His voice never trembled
for a moment. He wished to give his flock heavenly consolation in
earthly troubles. At last he remained alone. Then he broke off the mass
in the middle of a sentence, took the chalice, and ascended the steps
leading to the upper galleries. The Turks caught sight of him and rushed
after him like hungry hyaenas.

He is already up in the gallery. He is surrounded on all sides by
soldiers with drawn swords and lowered spears. Next moment he must fall
dead over the communion chalice. No escape, no rescue is possible.
Before him stands the grey stone wall.

But, lo! a door opens in the wall, and when the bishop has gone in the
wall closes up again. The soldiers stand still in astonishment. Then
they begin to attack the wall with spears and axes. But it is no use.
They renew their efforts, but still in vain.

Four centuries and a half have passed since then, and still the Greeks
cherish a blind faith that the day will come when St. Sophia will be
restored to Christian uses, when the wall will open again and the bishop
will walk out with the chalice in h