When the people saw them, they made for them, hastening in crowds from every side of the Feddan, from every adjacent alley, every shop, tent, and booth.  And when they saw who the prisoners were they burst into loud exclamations of surprise.

“Ya Allah!  Israel the Jew!” cried the Moors.

“God of Jacob, save us!  Israel ben Oliel!” cried the people of the Mellah.

“What is it?  What has happened?  What has befallen them?” they all asked together.

“Balak!” cried the soldier in front, swinging his staff before him to force a passage through the thronging multitude.  “Attention!  By your leave!  Away!  Out of the way!”

And as they walked the criers chanted, “So shall it be done to every man who is an enemy of the Kaid, and to every woman who is a play-actor and a cheat.”

When the people had recovered from their consternation they began to look black into each other’s face, to mutter oaths between their teeth, and to say in voices of no pity or rush, “He deserved it!” “Ya Allah, but he’s well served!” “Holy Saints, we knew what it would come to!” “Look at him now!” “There he is at last!” “Brave end to all his great doings!” “Curse him!  Curse him!”

And over the muttered oaths and pitiless curses, the yelping and barking of the cruel voices of the crowd, as the procession moved along, came still the cry of the crier, “So shall it be done to every man who is an enemy of the Kaid, and to every woman who is a play-actor and a cheat.”

Then the mood of the multitude changed.  The people began to titter, and after that to laugh openly.  They wagged their heads at Israel; they derided him; they made merry over his sorry plight.  Where he was now he seemed to be not so much a fallen tyrant as a silly sham and an imposture.  Look at him!  Look at his bony and ragged ass!  Ya Allah!  To think that they had ever been afraid of him!

As the procession crossed the market-place, a woman who was enveloped in a blanket spat at Israel as he passed.  Then it was come to the door of the Mosque, an old man, a beggar, hobbled through the crowd and struck Israel with the back of his hand across the face.  The woman had lost her husband and the man his son by death sentences of Ben Aboo.  Israel had succoured both when he went about on his secret excursions after nightfall in the disguise of a Moor.

“Balak!  Balak!” cried the soldier in front, and still the chant of the crier rang out over all other noises.

At every step the throng increased.  The strong and lusty bore down the weak in the struggle to get near to the procession.  Blind beggars and feeble cripples who could not see or stir shouted hideous oaths at Israel from the back of the crowd.