“And what doest thou in a Christian church?” asked Lazarus in low fierce tones. “What Christians do, since I am one of them,” answered the youth, unmoved. Lazarus said nothing, but he struck the boy on the mouth with his hard hand so that the blood ran down. “Not here!” exclaimed Levi, anxiously looking about. And they hurried him away through dark and narrow lanes. He opposed no resistance to Levi’s rough strength, not only suffering himself to be dragged along but doing his best to keep pace with the man’s long strides, nor did he murmur at the blows and thrusts dealt him from time to time by his father from the other side. During some minutes they were still traversing the Christian part of the city. A single loud cry for help would have brought a rescue, a few words to the rescuers would have roused a mob of fierce men and the two Jews would have paid with their lives for the deeds they had not yet committed. But Simon Abeles uttered no cry and offered no resistance. He had said that he feared not death, and he had spoken the truth, not knowing what manner of death was to be his. Onward they sped, and in the vision the way they traversed seemed to sweep past them, so that they remained always in sight though always hurrying on. The Christian quarter was passed; before them hung the chain of one of those gates which gave access to the city of the Jews. With a jeer and an oath the bearded sentry watched them pass--the martyr and his torturers. One word to him, even then, and the butt of his heavy halberd would have broken Levi’s arm and laid the boy’s father in the dust. The word was not spoken. On through the filthy ways, on and on, through narrow courts and tortuous passages to a dark low doorway. Then, again, the vision showed but an empty street and there was silence for a space, and a horror of long waiting in the falling night. Lights moved within the house, and then one window after another was bolted and barred from within. Still the silence endured until the ear was grown used to it and could hear sounds very far off, from deep down below the house itself, but the walls did not open and the scene did not change. A dull noise, bad to hear, resounded as from beneath a vault, and then another and another--the sound of cruel blows upon a human body. Then a pause. “Wilt thou renounce it?” asked the voice of Lazarus. “_Kyrie eleison, Christie eleison!_” came the answer, brave and clear. “Lay on, Levi, and let thy arm be strong!” And again the sound of blows, regular, merciless, came up from the bowels of the earth. “Dost thou repent? Dost thou renounce? Dost thou deny?” “I repent of my sins--I renounce your ways--I believe in the Lord--” The sacred name was not heard. A smothered groan as of one losing consciousness in extreme torture was all that came up from below. “Lay on, Levi, lay on!”