ction
that tortures and death were impending over him.

On the other hand, the stately form of the Norman appeared to dilate
in magnitude, like that of the eagle, which ruffles up its plumage when
about to pounce on its defenceless prey. He paused within three steps
of the corner in which the unfortunate Jew had now, as it were, coiled
himself up into the smallest possible space, and made a sign for one of
the slaves to approach. The black satellite came forward accordingly,
and, producing from his basket a large pair of scales and several
weights, he laid them at the feet of Front-de-Boeuf, and again retired
to the respectful distance, at which his companion had already taken his
station.

The motions of these men were slow and solemn, as if there impended over
their souls some preconception of horror and of cruelty. Front-de-Boeuf
himself opened the scene by thus addressing his ill-fated captive.

"Most accursed dog of an accursed race," he said, awaking with his deep
and sullen voice the sullen echoes of his dungeon vault, "seest thou
these scales?"

The unhappy Jew returned a feeble affirmative.

"In these very scales shalt thou weigh me out," said the relentless
Baron, "a thousand silver pounds, after the just measure and weight of
the Tower of London."

"Holy Abraham!" returned the Jew, finding voice through the very
extremity of his danger, "heard man ever such a demand?--Who ever
heard, even in a minstrel's tale, of such a sum as a thousand pounds
of silver?--What human sight was ever blessed with the vision of such
a mass of treasure?--Not within the walls of York, ransack my house
and that of all my tribe, wilt thou find the tithe of that huge sum of
silver that thou speakest of."

"I am reasonable," answered Front-de-Boeuf, "and if silver be scant, I
refuse not gold. At the rate of a mark of gold for each six pounds of
silver, thou shalt free thy unbelieving carcass from such punishment as
thy heart has never even conceived."

"Have mercy on me, noble knight!" exclaimed Isaac; "I am old, and poor,
and helpless. It were unworthy to triumph over me--It is a poor deed to
crush a worm."

"Old thou mayst be," replied the knight; "more shame to their folly who
have suffered thee to grow grey in usury and knavery--Feeble thou mayst
be, for when had a Jew either heart or hand--But rich it is well known
thou art."

"I swear to you, noble knight," said the Jew "by all which I believe,
and by all which we