er to gratify an unruly passion for the daughter of another
people.--Put not a price on my deliverance, Sir Knight--sell not a deed
of generosity--protect the oppressed for the sake of charity, and not
for a selfish advantage--Go to the throne of England; Richard will
listen to my appeal from these cruel men."

"Never, Rebecca!" said the Templar, fiercely. "If I renounce my Order,
for thee alone will I renounce it--Ambition shall remain mine, if thou
refuse my love; I will not be fooled on all hands.--Stoop my crest to
Richard?--ask a boon of that heart of pride?--Never, Rebecca, will I
place the Order of the Temple at his feet in my person. I may forsake
the Order, I never will degrade or betray it."

"Now God be gracious to me," said Rebecca, "for the succour of man is
well-nigh hopeless!"

"It is indeed," said the Templar; "for, proud as thou art, thou hast in
me found thy match. If I enter the lists with my spear in rest, think
not any human consideration shall prevent my putting forth my strength;
and think then upon thine own fate--to die the dreadful death of the
worst of criminals--to be consumed upon a blazing pile--dispersed to the
elements of which our strange forms are so mystically composed--not a
relic left of that graceful frame, from which we could say this lived
and moved!--Rebecca, it is not in woman to sustain this prospect--thou
wilt yield to my suit."

"Bois-Guilbert," answered the Jewess, "thou knowest not the heart
of woman, or hast only conversed with those who are lost to her best
feelings. I tell thee, proud Templar, that not in thy fiercest battles
hast thou displayed more of thy vaunted courage, than has been shown
by woman when called upon to suffer by affection or duty. I am myself a
woman, tenderly nurtured, naturally fearful of danger, and impatient
of pain--yet, when we enter those fatal lists, thou to fight and I to
suffer, I feel the strong assurance within me, that my courage shall
mount higher than thine. Farewell--I waste no more words on thee; the
time that remains on earth to the daughter of Jacob must be otherwise
spent--she must seek the Comforter, who may hide his face from his
people, but who ever opens his ear to the cry of those who seek him in
sincerity and in truth."

"We part then thus?" said the Templar, after a short pause; "would to
Heaven that we had never met, or that thou hadst been noble in birth and
Christian in faith!--Nay, by Heaven! when I gaze on thee, an