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!”