ied by the guards, retainers, and
petitioners of the Protectorate. There was a long table of rude
workmanship near the door at which they entered--above was a lamp,
similar in size and construction to that which swung outside:--many
assembled round, or sat close to, this table, while others walked up and
down--not passing, however, the centre of the hall, which was crossed
by a silk cord of crimson, fastened in the middle to two brass poles,
standing sufficiently apart to permit one person at a time to enter; and
also guarded by a single sentinel, who walked so as to pass and repass
the opening every half minute. Manasseh paced slowly towards the
soldier, still leaning on Robin. His conductor kept a little in advance,
bowing on either side, while a conciliating smile lingered on his lip,
until he came to the silken line.

"Only one may pass!" was the soldier's brief notice; and the Rabbi,
grasping his staff more firmly, walked to the door opposite the great
entrance, which was guarded also by another sentinel.

"You can find a seat--that is, if you choose to sit," said the servitor
sneeringly, to Robin, pointing at the same time to an empty corner of
the hall.

"Or would it please you I descend to the apartments of the lower
servants?" inquired the Ranger, remembering the meekness befitting the
character of a Jew.

"None leave this hall, after entering it by his Highness's permission,
till they receive orders to that effect," he replied, turning from
Robin, who slunk to the place assigned him, in no very agreeable mood.

If his imaginings were of an unpleasant description, still more so were
the observations made aloud by the pages, flippant both by nature and
usage, and the sarcastic and cool jests, given forth at his expense by
the more sober persons of the assembly.

"Wouldst like any refreshment, friend?" inquired a youth in a
sad-coloured tunic and blue vest, over which fell a plain collar of the
finest Valenciennes' lace, so as to cover his shoulders. "And yet,"
continued the malapert, "methinks there is nothing to offer thee but
some ham, or preserved pigs' tongues, which, of course, thou tastest not
of."

"No, I humbly thank ye, young sir," replied Robin; "I do not need the
pigs' tongues, having tasted of thine."

"What mean you by that, Jew dog!" said the boy fiercely, laying his hand
on his sword.

"Nothing, fair gentleman, except it be that thine, though well
preserved, would fain take up the busi