“From to-day,” continued Eleazar, “the temple becomes the seat of a holy war, the abode of the Lord’s host, a citadel in the service of freedom. Henceforth, its gates open only to the true worshipers of Israel, whose foes ye are,” he added, turning to his Sanhedrist opponents. “Withdraw, ere the scourges of the Nethinim quicken your steps.” The fierce storm of indignant protest that burst from Ananias and his party met with a savage laugh from Eleazar. “You dare threaten us with expulsion from the temple?” cried Ananias, his eyes blazing with wrath. “This is no place for the friends of Cæsar. What! ye will not budge? Guards, drive these traitors forth.” As if the command were a joy to them, the Nethinim rushed forward, at the same time drawing forth scourges and whips which they applied without more ado to the bodies of the immovable Sanhedrists. Then ensued a strange scene. From the Sanhedrim came screams of pain and fierce protests, undignified scufflings and even oaths. Their feeble resistance was soon overborne; without weapons, and inferior in numbers and strength to their more youthful opponents, they were thrust forth from the Hall of Squares, and driven across the wide court of the Gentiles. A sight so unusual at once attracted the attention of the multitude, who were at first disposed to side with the struggling Sanhedrim, but the magical words, “Friends of the Romans,” quickly turned their sympathies into the opposite scale, so that they readily joined the Nethinim in the work of expulsion; and the end of it all was that the venerable fathers found themselves outside the temple, indignant and breathless, disheveled and bleeding. After a brief consultation, they took their way across the Tyropæon Bridge to the Upper City, and entered the palace of Ananias. From its flat roof they could see something of what was passing in the temple. Every part of the holy house was glittering with arms. Eleazar was making good his word; the temple was being garrisoned, in the interests not of Rome, but of Israel. Aware of the hatred with which his pro-Roman sympathies were regarded by the mob, Ananias, in conjunction with a large body of Jewish loyalists, deemed it prudent, before the day was out, to take refuge with the soldiers in the Prætorium. Late that same night, Berenice escorted by a small retinue made her way to this palace; and, while her guards waited without, she herself entered to take a farewell of Crispus.