Without, indecision and tumult wrangled among innumerable voices. Great bodies began to shout as one, with mighty lungs:
"Bring out the woman! Give up the Dancing Flora!"
Lydia felt the alabarch tremble and presently the arm to which she clung withdrew from her clasp and passed around her, drawing her close.
"Impius! Insidiis! Succuba! O dea certe!" roared the mob.
But work was doing at the gates. There arose blunt pounding, slowly and heavily delivered as if a multitude wielded a ram. But the reports were too solid to indicate any weakness in the gates, and the keeper of the one attacked watched the sacred stone with a glitter of pride in his eyes.
Presently the hammering ceased.
"Yield us the woman!" the mob roared in the interval. "Give us the woman and save yourselves!"
Those about the alabarch, hearing the demand of the mob, turned great terror-strained eyes upon Lydia, and she hid her face in her father's shoulder.
The smell of burning pitch penetrated the interior; pungent smoke assailed the nostrils of the keeper, who smiled grimly, assuming that the mob hoped to burn the Synagogue.
But there followed an explosion of steam, split by a sharp report, and followed by a howl of exultation. The keeper with wild eyes sprang at the valve. Immediately the hammering of the ram reverberated through the gloom.