“Thou art an honest fellow,” replied the robber, “I warrant thee; and we worship not St. Nicholas so devoutly but what thy thirty zecchins may yet escape, if thou deal uprightly with us. Meantime render up thy trust for a time.” So saying, he took from Gurth’s breast the large leathern pouch, in which the purse given him by Rebecca was enclosed, as well as the rest of the zecchins, and then continued his interrogation.⁠—“Who is thy master?”

“The Disinherited Knight,” said Gurth.

“Whose good lance,” replied the robber, “won the prize in today’s tourney? What is his name and lineage?”

“It is his pleasure,” answered Gurth, “that they be concealed; and from me, assuredly, you will learn nought of them.”

“What is thine own name and lineage?”

“To tell that,” said Gurth, “might reveal my master’s.”