“Our fathers escaped at all cost from Egypt. I’ll not go back, nor Marah.”
The knight was surprised, and his looks expressed it as he said:
“Dost thou rave?”
“Oh, no, I was just remembering that a bearded serpent was the Egyptian symbol of deity; something like a man. You Christians would have all husbands gods to their families! No bearded serpent for mine!”
“Heavens, woman! thinkest thou thy scorn and vituperation can stay me?” So saying he pushed, or rather half flung the woman from him. He had no conception of the rage that any thing like a blow evokes in the heart of a woman that could love as once did Rizpah. On his part it was intended as a masterpiece of strategy, in the hope that the woman would swoon, then surrender in the weakness of following hysteria. The act was hateful to him, but he justified it by the end sought, yet missed that end.
Rizpah was a tigress roused, and like many another mother, beast or human, when the fight is once for offspring was endowed with sudden, supernatural strength. She sprang toward the hammock, plucking her dagger meanwhile from its hiding-place.
“Heaven defend us, woman!” cried Sir Charleroy, glancing about for a means of prevention, “thou wouldst not do murder?”
“Oh, no, thou art not fit to die; but hear me; this blade, consecrated to defense from dishonor, saved me once. Dost thou remember? It will do it again, if need be. The giver sleeps, but his stern charge haunts me still. ‘Protect at any cost from dishonor!’”
“Wouldst thou shed blood of any here!”