“Newcomers from Tyre in a great hurry not to lose the lions’ party,” cried the facetious warden of the gate. “Pass in, my Christian friends, pass in and eat your last supper according to your customs. You will find it over there, bread and wine in plenty. Eat, my hungry friends, eat before you are eaten and enter into Heaven or—the stomach of the lions.” An old woman, the last of the party, for she could not walk fast, turned round and pointed at the buffoon with her staff. “Blaspheme not, you heathen dog!” she said, “or rather, blaspheme on and go to your reward! I, Anna, who have the gift of prophecy, tell you, renegade who were a Christian, and therefore are doubly guilty, that _you_ have eaten your last meal—on earth.” The man, a half-bred Syrian who had abandoned his faith for profit and now tormented those who were once his brethren, uttered a furious curse and snatched a knife from his girdle. “You draw the knife? So be it, perish by the knife!” said Anna. Then without heeding him further the old woman hobbled on after her companions, leaving the man to slink away white to the lips with terror. He had been a Christian and knew something of Anna and of this “gift of prophecy.” The path of these strangers led them past the fountain, where Rachel and Nehushta rose to greet them as they came. “Peace be with you,” said Rachel. “In the name of Christ, peace,” they answered, and passed on towards the arches where the other captives were gathered. Last of all, at some distance behind the rest, came the white-haired woman, leaning on her staff. As she approached, Rachel turned to repeat her salutation, then uttered a little cry and said: “Mother Anna, do you not know me, Rachel, the daughter of Benoni?” “Rachel!” she answered, starting. “Alas! child, how came you here?” “By the paths that we Christians have to tread, mother,” said Rachel, sadly. “But sit; you are weary. Nou, help her.” Anna nodded, and slowly, for her limbs were stiff, sank down on to the step of the fountain. “Give me to drink, child,” she said, “for I have been brought upon a mule from Tyre, and am athirst.” Rachel made her hands into a cup, for she had no other, and held water to Anna’s lips, which she drank greedily, emptying them many times. “For this refreshment, God be praised. What said you? The daughter of Benoni a Christian! Well, even here and now, for that God be praised also. Strange that I should not have heard of it; but I have been in Jerusalem these two years, and was brought back to Tyre last Sabbath as a prisoner.” “Yes, Mother, and since then I have become both wife and widow.” “Whom did you marry, child?” “Demas, the merchant. They killed him in the amphitheatre yonder at Berytus six months ago,” and the poor woman began to sob.