A second and quite unpretentious gateway admitted them to a green meadow, in shape a rough semicircle, enclosed by ruinated walls.
"You may come here most days of the month," said Brother Copas, holding the gate wide, "and never meet a soul.

'Tis the tranquillest, most forsaken spot in the city's ambit." But here, as Corona caught her breath, he turned and stared.
The enclosure was occupied by a squad of soldiers at drill.
They wore uniforms of khaki, and, dressed up with their backs to the gateway, were performing the simple movements of foot drill in face of a choleric sergeant-major, who shouted the words of command, and of a mounted officer who fronted the squad, silent, erect in saddle, upon a strapping bay.

Some few paces behind this extremely military pair stood a couple of civilian spectators side by side, in attire-- frock-coats, top-hats, white waistcoats--which at a little distance gave them an absurd resemblance to a brace of penguins.
"Heavens!" murmured Brother Copas.

"Is it possible that Bamberger has become twins?
One never knows of what these Jews are capable.

.