On the pavement lay bodies of men and women slain
in some midnight outrage. From behind the lattices of the windows they
caught sight of the eyes of hundreds peeping at them, but none gave them
a good-morrow, or said one single word. The silence of death seemed to
brood upon the empty thoroughfares. Presently it was broken by a single
wailing voice that reached their ears from so far away that they could
not catch its meaning. Nearer and nearer it came, till at length in
the dark and narrow street they caught sight of a thin, white-bearded
figure, naked to the waist as though to show the hideous scars and
rod-weals with which its back and breast were scored, still festering,
some of them. This was the man who uttered the cries, and these were the
words he spoke:
"A voice from the East! a voice from the West! a voice from the four
Winds! a voice against Jerusalem and against the Temple! a voice against
the bridegrooms and the brides! a voice against the whole people! Woe,
woe to Jerusalem!"
Now he was upon them, yes, and marching through them as though he saw
them not, although they shrank to one side and the other of the narrow
street to avoid the touch of this ominous, unclean creature who scarcely
seemed to be a man.
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