ouldered, erect, manly, with spur on heel and
sword at side. The outline of the old synagogue melted into the
murky air and changed its shape, and stood out again in other and
ever-changing forms. Now they were passing before the walls of a noble
palace, now beneath long, low galleries of arches, now again across the
open space of the Great Ring in the midst of the city--then all at once
they were standing before the richly carved doorway of the Teyn Kirche,
the very doorway out of which the Wanderer had followed the fleeting
shadow of Beatrice's figure but a month ago. And then they paused, and
looked again to the right and left, and searched the dark corners with
piercing glances.

"Thy life is in thine hand," said the woman, speaking close to the boy's
ear. "It is yet time. Turn with me and let us go back."

The mysterious radiance lit up the youth's beautiful face in the dark
street and showed the fearless yet gentle smile that was on his lips.

"What is there to fear?" he asked.

"Death," answered the woman in a trembling tone. "They will kill thee,
and it shall be upon my head."

"And what is Death?" he asked again, and the smile was still upon his
face as he led the way up the steps.

The woman bowed her head and drew her veil more closely about her and
followed him. Then they were within the church, darker, more ghostly,
less rich in those days than now. The boy stood beside the hewn stone
basin wherein was the blessed water, and he touched the frozen surface
with his fingers, and held them out to his companion.

"Is it thus?" he asked. And the heavenly smile grew more radiant as he
made the sign of the Cross.

Again the woman inclined her head.

"Be it not upon me!" she exclaimed earnestly. "Though I would it might
be for ever so with thee."

"It is for ever," the boy answered.

He went forward and prostrated himself before the high altar, and the
soft light hovered above him. The woman knelt at a little distance from
him, with clasped hands and upturned eyes. The church was very dark and
silent.

An old man in a monk's robe came forward out of the shadow of the choir
and stood behind the marble rails and looked down at the boy's prostrate
figure, wonderingly. Then the low gateway was opened and he descended
the three steps and bent down to the young head.

"What wouldest thou?" he asked.

Simon Abeles rose until he knelt, and looked up into the old man's face.

"I am a Jew. I would be a Chri