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!" "Nay," answered the strong rabbi, "the boy will die.

Let us leave him here for this night.

Perchance cold and hunger will be more potent than stripes, when he shall come to himself." "As though sayest," answered the father in angry reluctance.
Again all was silent.