THE NIGHT of the day that George Bush announced suspension of talks between the United States and the PLO, Moshe Dayan's daughter Yael stood in Temple Sinai and, with her words striking like the stones of the intifada, rapped out the names of the right-wing extremists who had been "rewarded" by the U.S. action.

"Abul Abbas {the terrorist who led the recent beach raid} is opening champagne bottles," she said. "The U.S. is offering him a victory. Sharon {Ariel Sharon, the hard-line former defense minister} is celebrating. Every crazy settler in the West Bank and Gaza is opening champagne. It rewards everyone in the Middle East who objects to the peace process."

Yael Dayan, who wrote the first of her eight books at 19, looks like the famous one-eyed general, has the same taut, shining skin drawn over high cheekbones, the same driving intelligence. Her voice is raven-deep, and her tongue is as sharp as her father's sword.

Wife of an Israeli general, mother of two, a Labor Party activist, Yael Dayan was here under the auspices of Americans for Peace Now, which is allied with the presently demoralized Israeli Peace Now chapter.

On her current American tour, is sharing a platform with Faisal Husseini, son of a famous Arab general whose name was evoked to scare Jewish children into eating their vegetables, just as Dayan was the threat for Arab tots.

The two are pleading with American Jews to speak up, "to say to a congressman what you said at home Friday night, to tell the powerful what you told the pollster."

Dayan says that proponents of the peace process are "a majority acting like a minority, worrying about what is nice to say and what is not nice."

"You Americans," she said, "what are you going to tell your children and your grandchildren when they ask you, 'Why did you allow it to happen?' " The temple audience applauded.

The problem in Congress was framed by a young woman during the question period. She spoke of being at the American Israel Political Action Committee banquet -- AIPAC is the most formidable arm of the Jewish lobby -- and counting 46 senators and 70 representatives in attendance.

All are held in a circle of fear. Bush didn't dare let the terrorist raid go unpunished for fear of being held soft on terrorism. He knew he would get no flak from the Hill: 47 senators backed an amendment urging him to break off the talks. Members fear AIPAC, fear alienating Jewish constituents, who remain silent because, Dayan said, they "don't want to let Israel down."

All this, she thinks, leaves the new prime minister, Yitzak Shamir, to pursue his dream of a "Greater Israel," which means no peace talks, not one inch of occupied territory given back and no peace.

She blames Secretary of State James Baker. "He could not be so stupid as not to understand what he is doing," she said. "So I must conclude he doesn't care."

She traces Baker's indifference to a reluctance to step down from his triumphs in Eastern Europe into something as "dirty and gritty" as the Middle East, which involves "unshaven people."

If fear is the informing emotion on the Middle East, the problem with Baker's other foreign-policy failure, Cambodia, is unconcern. No lobby there, no constituency to urge a break in the stalemate. Last week for the first time in recent memory, advocates came to town to lobby. It's a coalition of old anti-war groups, called "Campaign to Oppose Return of the Khmer Rouge."

Among the lobbyists was Hedy Epstein, 65, a St. Louis paralegal who is a survivor of the Holocaust. She was 8 years old in Kippenheim, Germany, when Hitler came to power. Both parents were taken away -- to Auchswitz, she later learned -- and put to death. She escaped on a children's rescue mission organized in England. After living hand to mouth in London, she applied to go back to Germany as a researcher for the Nuremberg trials. She spent several years burrowing through grisly files of Nazi medical experiments. Eventually, she came to this country, married and worked at a variety of jobs.

Last October, the local Mennonites asked her if she would join a mission to Cambodia. She went to the killing fields, saw the Khmer Rouge torture-interrogation centers where thousands lost their lives. She saw records, photographs, files. She had a shock of recognition. The Khmer Rouge, like the Nazis, were compulsive record keepers.

In Phomh Penh, she met frightened people who clung to members of the mission and asked, "Are the Khmer Rouge coming back to kill the rest of us? Please tell the world what is happening."

"I felt an obligation," said Hedy Epstein, in her neat dress with her perfectly ironed linen collar and cuffs, as she trudged up and down the halls of Congress.