hat it might be ready for use in
the early spring. Even the river was changed. Men were standing upon the
ice, cutting it into long symmetrical strips, to be hauled ashore. Some
of the great pieces were already separated from the main ice, and sturdy
fellows, clad in dark woollen, were poling them over the dark water to
the foot of the gently sloping road where heavy carts stood ready to
receive the load when cut up into blocks. The dark city was taking in a
great provision of its own coldness against the summer months.

Unorna looked about her. Everywhere there were people at work, and she
was more disappointed than she would own to herself at the invasion of
the solitude. The Wanderer looked from the stone-cutters to the ice-men
with a show of curiosity.

"I have not seen so much life in Prague for many a day," he observed.

"Let us go," answered Unorna, nervously. "I do not like it. I cannot
bear the sight of people to-day."

They turned in a new direction, Unorna guiding her companion by a
gesture. They were near to the Jewish quarter, and presently were
threading their way through narrow and filthy streets thronged with
eager Hebrew faces, and filled with the hum of low-pitched voices
chattering together, not in the language of the country, but in a base
dialect of German. They were in the heart of Prague, in that dim quarter
which is one of the strongholds of the Israelite, whence he directs
great enterprises and sets in motion huge financial schemes, in which
Israel sits, as a great spider in the midst of a dark web, dominating
the whole capital with his eagle's glance and weaving the destiny of the
Bohemian people to suit his intricate speculations. For throughout the
length and breadth of Slavonic and German Austria the Jew rules, and
rules alone.

Unorna gathered her furs more closely about her, in evident disgust at
her surroundings, but still she kept on her way. Her companion, scarcely
less familiar with the sights of Prague than she herself, walked by her
side, glancing carelessly at the passing people, at the Hebrew signs, at
the dark entrances that lead to courts within courts and into labyrinths
of dismal lanes and passages, looking at everything with the same serene
indifference, and idly wondering what made Unorna choose to walk that
way. Then he saw that she was going towards the cemetery. They
reached the door, were admitted and found themselves alone in the vast
wilderness.

In the midst of