“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.”