“Let our chaplain,” said Beaumanoir, “stand forth, and tell this obstinate infidel—”
“Forgive the interruption,” said Rebecca, meekly; “I am a maiden, unskilled to dispute for my religion, but I can die for it, if it be God’s will.—Let me pray your answer to my demand of a champion.”
“Give me her glove,” said Beaumanoir. “This is indeed,” he continued, as he looked at the flimsy texture and slender fingers, “a slight and frail gage for a purpose so deadly!—Seest thou, Rebecca, as this thin and light glove of thine is to one of our heavy steel gauntlets, so is thy cause to that of the Temple, for it is our Order which thou hast defied.”
“Cast my innocence into the scale,” answered Rebecca, “and the glove of silk shall outweigh the glove of iron.”
“Then thou dost persist in thy refusal to confess thy guilt, and in that bold challenge which thou hast made?”
“I do persist, noble sir,” answered Rebecca.
“So be it then, in the name of Heaven,” said the Grand Master; “and may God show the right!”
“Amen,” replied the Preceptors around him, and the word was deeply echoed by the whole assembly.
“Brethren,” said Beaumanoir, “you are aware that we might well have refused to this woman the benefit of the trial by combat—but though a Jewess and an unbeliever, she is also a stranger and defenceless, and God forbid that she should ask the benefit of our mild laws, and that it should be refused to her. Moreover, we are knights and soldiers as well as men of religion, and shame it were to us upon any pretence, to refuse proffered combat. Thus, therefore, stands the case. Rebecca, the daughter of Isaac of York , is, by many frequent and suspicious circumstances, defamed of