As the fire augmented, symptoms of it became soon apparent in the chamber, where Ivanhoe was watched and tended by the Jewess Rebecca. He had been awakened from his brief slumber by the noise of the battle; and his attendant, who had, at his anxious desire, again placed herself at the window to watch and report to him the fate of the attack, was for some time prevented from observing either, by the increase of the smouldering and stifling vapour. At length the volumes of smoke which rolled into the apartment⁠—the cries for water, which were heard even above the din of the battle made them sensible of the progress of this new danger.

“The castle burns,” said Rebecca; “it burns!⁠—What can we do to save ourselves?”

“Fly, Rebecca, and save thine own life,” said Ivanhoe, “for no human aid can avail me.”

“I will not fly,” answered Rebecca; “we will be saved or perish together⁠—And yet, great God!⁠—my father, my father⁠—what will be his fate!”

At this moment the door of the apartment flew open, and the Templar presented himself⁠—a ghastly figure, for his gilded armour was broken and bloody, and the plume was partly shorn away, partly burnt from his casque. “I have found thee,” said he to Rebecca; “thou shalt prove I will keep my word to share weal and woe with thee⁠—There is but one path to safety, I have cut my way through fifty dangers to point it to thee⁠—up, and instantly follow me!” 37

“Alone,” answered Rebecca, “I will not follow thee. If thou wert born of woman⁠—if thou hast but a touch of human charity in thee⁠—if thy heart be not hard as thy breastplate⁠—save my aged father⁠—save this wounded knight!”

“A knight,” answered the Templar, with his characteristic calmness, “a knight, Rebecca, must encounter his fate, whether it meet him in the shape of sword or flame⁠—and who recks how or where a Jew meets with his?”

“Savage warrior,” said Rebecca, “rather will I perish in the flames than accept safety from thee!”