The mellow splendor of the August moon, pouring over the crest of Olivet, since termed the Mount of Offence, brought the lettering boldly out; and he read, and was filled with rage.

All he could do was to wrench the board from its nailing, and hurl it into the ditch.

Then he sat upon the step, and prayed for the New King, and that his coming might be hastened.

As his blood cooled, insensibly he yielded to the fatigue of long travel in the summer heat, and sank down lower, and, at last, slept.
About that time two women came down the street from the direction of the Tower of Antonia, approaching the palace of the Hurs.

They advanced stealthily, with timid steps, pausing often to listen.
At the corner of the rugged pile, one said to the other, in a low voice, "This is it, Tirzah!" And Tirzah, after a look, caught her mother's hand, and leaned upon her heavily, sobbing, but silent.
"Let us go on, my child, because"-- the mother hesitated and trembled; then, with an effort to be calm, continued--"because when morning comes they will put us out of the gate of the city to--return no more." Tirzah sank almost to the stones.
"Ah, yes!" she said, between sobs; "I forgot.