Peter, suspecting something wrong, slackened his pace, and caught Philammon's arm.
'Do you see those fellows in the shadow ?' But, before Philammon could answer, some thirty or forty men, their daggers gleaming in the moonlight, moved out into the middle of the street, and received the fugitives into their ranks.

What was the meaning of it?
Here was a pleasant taste of the ways of the most Christian and civilised city of the Empire! 'Well,' thought Philammon, 'I have come out to see the world, and I seem, at this rate, to be likely to see enough of it.' Peter turned at once, and fled as quickly as he had pursued; while Philammon, considering discretion the better part of valour, followed, and they rejoined their party breathless.
'There is an armed mob at the end of the street.' 'Assassins!' 'Jews!' 'A conspiracy!' Up rose a Babel of doubtful voices.
The foe appeared in sight, advancing stealthily, and the whole party took to flight, led once more by Peter, who seemed determined to make free use, in behalf of his own safety, of the long legs which nature had given him.
Philammon followed, sulkily and unwillingly, at a foot's pace; but he had not gone a dozen yards when a pitiable voice at his feet called to him-- 'Help! mercy! Do not leave me here to be murdered! I am a Christian; indeed I am a Christian!' Philammon stooped, and lifted from the ground a comely negro-woman, weeping, and shivering in a few tattered remnants of clothing.
'I ran out when they said the church was on fire,' sobbed the poor creature, 'and the Jews beat and wounded me.

They tore my shawl and tunic off me before I could get away from them; and then our own people ran over me and trod me down.

And now my husband will beat me, if I ever get home.

Quick! up this side street, or we shall be murdered!' The armed men, whosoever they were, were close on them.