behind me on my steed—on Zamor, the gallant horse that never failed his rider. I won him in single fight from the Sultan of Trebizond —mount, I say, behind me—in one short hour is pursuit and enquiry far behind—a new world of pleasure opens to thee—to me a new career of fame. Let them speak the doom which I despise, and erase the name of Bois-Guilbert from their list of monastic slaves! I will wash out with blood whatever blot they may dare to cast on my scutcheon.”
“Tempter,” said Rebecca, “begone!—Not in this last extremity canst thou move me one hair’s-breadth from my resting place—surrounded as I am by foes, I hold thee as my worst and most deadly enemy—avoid thee, in the name of God!”
Albert Malvoisin, alarmed and impatient at the duration of their conference, now advanced to interrupt it.
“Hath the maiden acknowledged her guilt?” he demanded of Bois-Guilbert; “or is she resolute in her denial?”
“She is indeed resolute,” said Bois-Guilbert.
“Then,” said Malvoisin, “must thou, noble brother, resume thy place to attend the issue—The shades are changing on the circle of the dial—Come, brave Bois-Guilbert—come, thou hope of our holy Order, and soon to be its head.”
As he spoke in this soothing tone, he laid his hand on the knight’s bridle, as if to lead him back to his station.
“False villain! what meanest thou by thy hand on my rein?” said Sir Brian, angrily. And shaking off his companion’s grasp, he rode back to the upper end of the lists.
“There is yet spirit in him,” said Malvoisin apart to Mont-Fitchet, “were it well directed—but, like the Greek fire, it burns whatever approaches it.”