oisin, who withheld me from the resolution I had formed,
of hurling back the glove at the face of the superstitious and
superannuated fool, who listened to a charge so absurd, and against a
creature so high in mind, and so lovely in form as thou art!"

"And what now avails rant or flattery?" answered Rebecca. "Thou hast
made thy choice between causing to be shed the blood of an innocent
woman, or of endangering thine own earthly state and earthly hopes--What
avails it to reckon together?--thy choice is made."

"No, Rebecca," said the knight, in a softer tone, and drawing nearer
towards her; "my choice is NOT made--nay, mark, it is thine to make the
election. If I appear in the lists, I must maintain my name in arms;
and if I do so, championed or unchampioned, thou diest by the stake and
faggot, for there lives not the knight who hath coped with me in arms on
equal issue, or on terms of vantage, save Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and his
minion of Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe, as thou well knowest, is unable to bear
his corslet, and Richard is in a foreign prison. If I appear, then thou
diest, even although thy charms should instigate some hot-headed youth
to enter the lists in thy defence."

"And what avails repeating this so often?" said Rebecca.

"Much," replied the Templar; "for thou must learn to look at thy fate on
every side."

"Well, then, turn the tapestry," said the Jewess, "and let me see the
other side."

"If I appear," said Bois-Guilbert, "in the fatal lists, thou diest by a
slow and cruel death, in pain such as they say is destined to the guilty
hereafter. But if I appear not, then am I a degraded and dishonoured
knight, accused of witchcraft and of communion with infidels--the
illustrious name which has grown yet more so under my wearing, becomes a
hissing and a reproach. I lose fame, I lose honour, I lose the prospect
of such greatness as scarce emperors attain to--I sacrifice mighty
ambition, I destroy schemes built as high as the mountains with which
heathens say their heaven was once nearly scaled--and yet, Rebecca," he
added, throwing himself at her feet, "this greatness will I sacrifice,
this fame will I renounce, this power will I forego, even now when it
is half within my grasp, if thou wilt say, Bois-Guilbert, I receive thee
for my lover."

"Think not of such foolishness, Sir Knight," answered Rebecca, "but
hasten to the Regent, the Queen Mother, and to Prince John--they cannot,
in honour to the English crow