xquisite
beauty.

The Grand Master had collected the suffrages, and now in a solemn
tone demanded of Rebecca what she had to say against the sentence of
condemnation, which he was about to pronounce.

"To invoke your pity," said the lovely Jewess, with a voice somewhat
tremulous with emotion, "would, I am aware, be as useless as I should
hold it mean. To state that to relieve the sick and wounded of another
religion, cannot be displeasing to the acknowledged Founder of both our
faiths, were also unavailing; to plead that many things which these men
(whom may Heaven pardon!) have spoken against me are impossible, would
avail me but little, since you believe in their possibility; and still
less would it advantage me to explain, that the peculiarities of my
dress, language, and manners, are those of my people--I had well-nigh
said of my country, but alas! we have no country. Nor will I even
vindicate myself at the expense of my oppressor, who stands there
listening to the fictions and surmises which seem to convert the tyrant
into the victim.--God be judge between him and me! but rather would I
submit to ten such deaths as your pleasure may denounce against me,
than listen to the suit which that man of Belial has urged upon
me--friendless, defenceless, and his prisoner. But he is of your own
faith, and his lightest affirmance would weigh down the most solemn
protestations of the distressed Jewess. I will not therefore return to
himself the charge brought against me--but to himself--Yes, Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, to thyself I appeal, whether these accusations are not
false? as monstrous and calumnious as they are deadly?"

There was a pause; all eyes turned to Brain de Bois-Guilbert. He was
silent.

"Speak," she said, "if thou art a man--if thou art a Christian,
speak!--I conjure thee, by the habit which thou dost wear, by the name
thou dost inherit--by the knighthood thou dost vaunt--by the honour of
thy mother--by the tomb and the bones of thy father--I conjure thee to
say, are these things true?"

"Answer her, brother," said the Grand Master, "if the Enemy with whom
thou dost wrestle will give thee power."

In fact, Bois-Guilbert seemed agitated by contending passions, which
almost convulsed his features, and it was with a constrained voice that
at last he replied, looking to Rebecca,--"The scroll!--the scroll!"

"Ay," said Beaumanoir, "this is indeed testimony! The victim of her
witcheries can only name the fatal