Night fell on the towers and palaces of Sana, and there was no light in the streets except that of stars shining with northern brilliancy from between drifting clouds. Just before midnight, a solitary Arab hurried along one of the narrow paths, too narrow to be called a street, which led from the caravanseri to the church. His face and form were wrapped in a long sheepskin cloak, but his erect bearing, vigorous step, and the carved silver handle of the curved dagger, half hidden in his belt, betrayed one of the Kenaneh tribe. Stealthily looking around, he stopped before one of the windows of the cathedral; lifted himself to the granite ledge, dextrously used his dagger to remove one of the large panes of talc-stone (still used in all Sana), and jumped inside. He lingered only a few moments, came out as he went in, and hurried off toward the way of the North gate. On the morrow a cry arose from the early worshippers, carried on the lips of every Christian in Sana, till it echoed through market and street: “_Abraha’s church has been defiled!_ Dung is on the altar, and the holy cross is smeared with ordure! ’Tis the work of the accursed Kenaneh—the signal of revolt for the idolaters of the North!” There was tumult in Sana. In vain Gregentius endeavored to quiet the populace by his eloquence. Adding fuel to the flame, came the news on the same day of the defeat of the Modarites and the death of Ibn Choza, whom the king had sent on an expedition to a rebellious tribe in Wady Dauasir. Abraha’s wrath was doubly inflamed by the profanation of his church and the death of his captain. He publicly vowed to annihilate the idolatrous Koreish, as well as the Kenaneh, and to demolish their temple at Mecca. Before nightfall that vow was the rallying-cry in the soldiers’ quarter and the toast in every Jewish wine shop of Sana.