flict, the Armenians succeeded in driving the Greeks into their church, which is on the eastern side of the Rotunda. The great brass gates were closed upon them, and for about five minutes there was comparative peace and silence.
The Pasha, with his suite, descended from the gallery above us, and was making his way across the area, when the Greeks suddenly burst out of their church, and before His Excellency could pass, another contest arose, more dangerous and exciting than the first.
Clubs and sticks were thrown down into the area to the Greeks, through the high windows looking from the terraced roof of their neighboring convent. The Armenians were so well provided with such weapons, some of which were spiked, that it was supposed that the outbreak was premeditated.
Wild cries and heavy blows resounded on all sides, with out intermission. The Pasha himself was roughly handled, and he lost some of his decorations in the scuffle. The Commander of the Cavalry was thrown down, and several people high in authority were attacked by the infuriated mob. Large pieces of wood were hurled up against the galleries, where, to add to the confusion, most of the spectators were crying and screaming with fright. The door of our box was suddenly opened, and a number of women shrouded in white sheets were pushed in for safety—then the door was closed again.
We who were in front were in danger of falling into the area below, for the wooden railings were tottering and leaning outward at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees. I had great difficulty in keeping the Arab women from pressing forward, and thus pushing us over. They all seemed panic-stricken, and were sobbing convulsively. The Dutch Baroness was distracted with fear, not for herself, but for her only daughter, who, however, was perfectly self-possessed and calm, and tried to inspire those around her with courage. The monk and Abbé Ratisbon looked pale and terrified. The latter said to me, "It is not fear,
