Through the ornate grating of their gallery the gaily-clad women looked down on the rocking figures, while the grace-notes of the cantor on his central dais, and the harmoniously interjected 'poms' of his male ministrants flew up to their ears, as though they were indeed angels on high. Suddenly, over the blended passion of cantor and congregation, an ominous sound broke from without--the complex clatter of cavalry, the curt ring of military orders. The swaying figures turned suddenly as under another wind, the women's eyes grew astare and ablaze with terror. The great doors flew open, and--oh, awful, incredible sight--a squadron of Cossacks rode slowly in, two abreast, with a heavy thud of hoofs on the sacred floor, and a rattle of ponderous sabres. Their black conical caps and long beards, their great side-buttoned coats, and pockets stuffed with protrusive cartridges, their prancing horses, their leaded knouts, struck a blood-curdling discord amid the prayerful, white-wrapped figures. The rumble of worship ceased, the cantor, suddenly isolated, was heard soaring ecstatically; then he, too, turned his head uneasily and his roulade died in his throat. 'Halt!' the officer cried. The moving column froze. Its bristling length stretched from the central platform, blocking the aisle, and the courtyard echoed with the clanging hoofs of its rear, which backed into the school and the poor-house. The _Shamash_ (beadle) was seen to front the flamboyant invaders. 'Why does your Excellency intrude upon our prayers to God?' The congregation felt its dignity return. Who would have suspected Red Judah of such courage--such apt speech? Why, the very Rabbi was petrified; the elders of the _Kahal_ stood dumb. Ben Amram himself, their spokesman to the Government, whose praying-shawl was embroidered with a silver band, and whose coat was satin, remained immovable between the pillars of the Ark, staring stonily at the brave beadle. 'First of all, for the boy's blood!' The words rang out with military precision, and the speaker's horse pawed clangorously, as if impatient for the charge. The men grew death-pale, the women wrung their hands. '_Ai, vai!_' they moaned. 'Woe! woe!' 'What boy? What blood?' said the _Shamash_, undaunted. 'Don't palter, you rascal! You know well that a Christian child has disappeared.' The aged Rabbi, stimulated by the _Shamash_, uplifted a quavering voice. 'The child will be found of a surety--if, indeed, it is lost,' he added with bitter sarcasm. 'And surely your Excellency cannot require the boy's blood at our hands ere your Excellency knows it is indeed spilt.' 'You misunderstand me, old dog--or rather you pretend to, old fox. The boy's blood is here--it is kept in this very synagogue--and I have come for it.' The _Shamash_ laughed explosively. 'Oh, Excellency!' The synagogue, hysterically tense, caught the contagion of glad relief. It rang with strange laughter.