ir and huzza for their
benefactors. But the Jews were a tougher stock. Mark you, father, when
God blinded their eyes to the coming of the Lord Christ, He opened them
very wide to all lower matters. Their imagination is quick to kindle,
and they are as bold in merchantcraft as Charlemagne in war. They saw
what I was after before I had been a month at it, and were quick
to profit by my foresight. There are but two ways to deal with
Israelites--root them from the face of the earth or make them partners
with you. Willebald would have fought them; I, more wise, bought them
at a price. For two score years they have wrought faithfully for me. You
say well, a mother in Israel!"

"I could wish that a Christian lady had no dealings with the accursed
race," said the Cluniac.

"You could wish folly," was the tart answer. "I am not as your burgher
folk, and on my own affairs I take no man's guiding, be he monk or
merchant. Willebald is long dead; may he sleep in peace, He was no mate
for me, but for what he gave me I repaid him in the coin he loved best.
He was a proud man when he walked through the Friday Market with every
cap doffed. He was ever the burgher, like the child I bore him."

"I had thought the marriage more fruitful. They spoke of two children, a
daughter and a son."

The woman turned round in her bed so that she faced him. The monkey
whimpered and she cuffed its ears. Her face was sharp and exultant, and
for a sick person her eyes were oddly bright.

"The girl was Willebald's. A poor slip of vulgar stock with the spirit
of a house cat. I would have married her well, for she was handsome
after a fashion, but she thwarted me and chose to wed a lout of a
huckster in the Bredestreet. She shall have her portion from Willebald's
gold, but none from me. But Philip is true child of mine, and sprung on
both sides of high race. Nay, I name no names, and before men he is
of my husband's getting. But to you at the end of my days I speak the
truth. That son of wrath has rare blood in him. Philip..."

The old face had grown kind. She was looking through the monk to some
happy country of vision. Her thoughts were retracing the roads of time,
and after the way of age she spoke them aloud imperiously she had
forgotten her company.

"So long ago," came the tender voice. "It is years since they told me he
was dead among the heathen, fighting by the Lord Baldwin's side. But I
can see him as if it were yesterday, when he rode into