“This, Sir Knight,” said Rebecca, “is but idle boasting⁠—a brag of what you would have done had you not found it convenient to do otherwise. You received my glove, and my champion, if a creature so desolate can find one, must encounter your lance in the lists⁠—yet you would assume the air of my friend and protector!”

“Thy friend and protector,” said the Templar, gravely, “I will yet be⁠—but mark at what risk, or rather at what certainty, of dishonour; and then blame me not if I make my stipulations, before I offer up all that I have hitherto held dear, to save the life of a Jewish maiden.”

“Speak,” said Rebecca; “I understand thee not.”