No definite news of the outcome of the sortie had reached them and they were moving in a dense pack down toward the walls to hear the worst.

The whole hurrying mass seemed to vibrate with suspense and dread.

The maniac met them.
"Woe, woe to Jerusalem!" he cried.
A lean, apish, half-naked, lash-scarred idiot in the street, instantly, as if in echo to that mad cry, shouted in a voice of the most prodigious volume: "A voice from the east, a voice from the west, a voice from the four winds, a voice against Jerusalem and the Holy house, a voice against the bridegrooms and the brides and a voice against this whole people!" The temper of the crowd had reached that point of tension that needed only a little more strain to become panic.

Some one received the discordant cries of the maniacs with piercing rapid screams.

Instantly the choked passage filled with frantic uproar.