"What ails you?" cried Schlome, shaking his lodger with all his force, "recover yourself."
Gabriel's lips closed more than once with a quiver, without being able to give forth an intelligible sound; at length he passed his hand across his forehead that was covered with a cold sweat, and said with a powerful effort at self-command, and as if awaking from a dream: "That was in the days of King Wenceslaus, was it not? two hundred years ago,--a blind mother--a beautiful daughter--and the day of reconciliation was it?"
"Thank God, that you are well again, you must have had a sudden giddiness."
"Yes, yes," said Gabriel, faint and enfeebled, "I felt very unwell for a moment, very unwell--but I am better again. Go on with your story, dear lady, I pray you, go on with it."
Complying with his urgent request, Schöndel continued: "Long ago expelled from the ranks of the nobility on account of his worthless behaviour, the knight had cultivated a connection with some discontented idle burghers of the city, and these he hoped to make the ministers of his cruel vengeance. Some short time afterward he put himself at the head of a mob rendered fanatical under frivolous pretexts to murder and plunder in the Jews-town. The first, who, frightened out of their peaceful dwellings, went to meet the robbers, were cut down. Determined men endeavoured to oppose a monstrously superior force. Vain effort. Without arms, they saw themselves after an heroic opposition compelled to take refuge in the old New-synagogue already filled with old men, women, and children. Mighty blows sounded heavily on the closed doors of the synagogue. 'Open and give yourselves up,' yelled the knight from outside. After a short pause of consultation answer was made, that the Jews would deliver their property over to the mutineers, would draw up a deed of gift of it, and only keep back for themselves absolute necessaries; they also promised to make no complaint to king or states, in exchange for which, the honour of their wives and daughters was to be preserved, and no one compelled to change his religion.
"'It is not your business,' a voice from outside again resounded, 'it is ours to dictate conditions.--Do you desire life and not a wretched death, then open and at once abjure your faith. I grant but short delay for reflection; if that fruitlessly elapses, you are one and all given over to death!'
"No answer followed. Farther resistance could not be thought of, and hope that the king would at length put a stop to this unheard of, unparalleled iniquity, grew every moment less. The battle in the street--if the desperate resistance of a few unarmed men against an armed superior force could be called by that name--had lasted so long; that King Wenceslaus might have easily sent assistance; but none came. They were at length constrained to admit, that he did not trouble himself about the fate of the Jews. A silence as of death reigned in the synagogue; only here and there a suppressed sobbing, only here and there an infant at the breast, that reminded its mother of her sweetest duty, was heard. Once more the voice of the knight thundered rough and wild: 'I demand of you for the last time, whether do you choose: the new faith or death?' There was a momentary silence, then broke a cry of thousands 'Death' with a dull sound against the roof of the house that was consecrated to God.--The insurgents now began to demolish the doors with axes and hatchets. But the besieged in their deadly agony lifted up their voice in wonderful accord, and sang in solemn chorus the glorious verse of the Psalmist:
'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I will not fear the crafty wiliness of the evil-doer
For thou art with me! Thou art in all my ways:
The firm staff of faith is my confidence!'
"The aged Rabbi had sunk upon his knees in prayer upon the steps that led up to the tabernacle. 'Lord,' he implored, 'I suffer infinite sorrow, yet, oh that we might fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercy is boundless.--Only not into the hand of man! Ah, we know not what to do; to Thee alone we look for succour! Call to remembrance Thy mercy and gracious favour, that has been ever of old. In anger be mindful of compassion! Let Thy goodness be showed unto us, as we do put our trust in Thee!'
"But God at this season did not succour his children, in his unsearchable counsels it was otherwise ordered. The first door was burst open, the mob pressed into the vestibule of God's house, a single frail door separated oppressed and oppressors.