“What sayest thou to this, Conrade?” said the Grand Master⁠—“Den of thieves! and a fit residence is a den of thieves for such a Prior. No wonder that the hand of God is upon us, and that in the Holy Land we lose place by place, foot by foot, before the infidels, when we have such churchmen as this Aymer.⁠—And what meaneth he, I trow, by this second Witch of Endor?” said he to his confident, something apart. Conrade was better acquainted (perhaps by practice) with the jargon of gallantry, than was his Superior; and he expounded the passage which embarrassed the Grand Master, to be a sort of language used by worldly men towards those whom they loved par amours; but the explanation did not satisfy the bigoted Beaumanoir.

“There is more in it than thou dost guess, Conrade; thy simplicity is no match for this deep abyss of wickedness. This Rebecca of York was a pupil of that Miriam of whom thou hast heard. Thou shalt hear the Jew own it even now.” Then turning to Isaac, he said aloud, “Thy daughter, then, is prisoner with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?”

“Ay, reverend valorous sir,” stammered poor Isaac, “and whatsoever ransom a poor man may pay for her deliverance⁠—”

“Peace!” said the Grand Master. “This thy daughter hath practised the art of healing, hath she not?”

“Ay, gracious sir,” answered the Jew, with more confidence; “and knight and yeoman, squire and vassal, may bless the goodly gift which Heaven hath assigned to her. Many a one can testify that she hath recovered them by her art, when every other human aid hath proved vain; but the blessing of the God of Jacob was upon her.”