“The devil,” said the Preceptor, “I think, possessed you both. How oft have I preached to you caution, if not continence? Did I not tell you that there were enough willing Christian damsels to be met with, who would think it sin to refuse so brave a knight le don d’amoureux merci , and you must needs anchor your affection on a wilful, obstinate Jewess! By the mass, I think old Lucas Beaumanoir guesses right, when he maintains she hath cast a spell over you.”

“Lucas Beaumanoir!”⁠—said Bois-Guilbert reproachfully⁠—“Are these your precautions, Malvoisin? Hast thou suffered the dotard to learn that Rebecca is in the Preceptory?”

“How could I help it?” said the Preceptor. “I neglected nothing that could keep secret your mystery; but it is betrayed, and whether by the devil or no, the devil only can tell. But I have turned the matter as I could; you are safe if you renounce Rebecca. You are pitied⁠—the victim of magical delusion. She is a sorceress, and must suffer as such.”