Ivanhoe, Walter Scott [philippa perry book .txt] 📗

“No, damsel!” said the proud Templar, springing up, “thou shalt not thus impose on me⁠—if I renounce present fame and future ambition, I renounce it for thy sake, and we will escape in company. Listen to me, Rebecca,” he said, again softening his tone; “England⁠—Europe⁠—is not the world. There are spheres in which we may act, ample enough even for my ambition. We will go to Palestine, where Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat, is my friend⁠—a friend free as myself from the doting scruples which fetter our freeborn reason⁠—rather with Saladin will we league ourselves, than endure the scorn of the bigots whom we contemn.⁠—I will form new paths to greatness,” he continued, again traversing the room with hasty strides⁠—“Europe shall hear the loud step of him she has driven from her sons!⁠—Not the millions whom her crusaders send to slaughter, can do so much to defend Palestine⁠—not the sabres of the thousands and ten thousands of Saracens can hew their way so deep into that land for which nations are striving, as the strength and policy of me and those brethren, who, in despite of yonder old bigot, will adhere to me in good and evil. Thou shalt be a queen, Rebecca⁠—on Mount Carmel shall we pitch the throne which my valour will gain for you, and I will exchange my long-desired batoon for a sceptre!”

“A dream,” said Rebecca; “an empty vision of the night, which, were it a waking reality, affects me not. Enough, that the power which thou mightest acquire, I will never share; nor hold I so light of country or religious faith, as to esteem him who is willing to barter these ties, and cast away the bonds of the Order of which he is a sworn member, in order 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, and think when and how we are next to meet, I could even wish myself one of thine own degraded nation; my hand conversant with ingots and shekels, instead of spear and shield; my head bent down before each petty noble, and my look only terrible to the shivering and bankrupt debtor⁠—this could I wish, Rebecca, to be near to thee in life, and to escape the fearful share I must have in thy death.”

“Thou hast spoken the Jew,” said Rebecca, “as the persecution of such as thou art has made him. Heaven in ire has driven him from his country, but industry has opened to him the only road to power and to influence, which oppression has left unbarred. Read the ancient history of the people of God, and tell me if those, by whom Jehovah wrought such marvels among the nations, were then a people of misers and of usurers!⁠—And know, proud knight, we number names amongst us to which your boasted northern nobility is as the gourd compared with the cedar⁠—names that ascend far back to those high times when the Divine Presence shook the mercy-seat between the cherubim, and which derive their splendour from no earthly prince, but from the awful Voice, which bade their fathers be nearest of the congregation to the Vision⁠—Such were the princes of the House of Jacob.”

Rebecca’s colour rose as she boasted the ancient glories of her race, but faded as she added, with at sigh, “Such were the princes of Judah, now such no more!⁠—They are trampled down like the shorn grass, and