“I hope I have not vexed thee,” said Margaret, ingenuously. “I did not know.”
“My damsel did not vex me, as soon as I saw that she did not know.”
“And wouldst thou not like better to be a Christian than a Jew?” demanded Margaret, who could not imagine the possibility of any feeling on Belasez’s part regarding her nationality except those of regret and humiliation.
But the answer, though it came in a single syllable, was unmistakable. Intense pride, passionate devotion to her own creed and people, the deepest scorn and loathing for all others, combined to make up the tone of Belasez’s “No!”
“How very odd!” exclaimed Margaret, looking at her, with an expression of great astonishment upon her own fair, open features.
“Is it odd to my damsel? Does she know what her question sounded like, to me?”
“Tell me.”
“‘Would she not like better to be a villein scullion-maid, than to be the daughter of my noble Lord of Kent?’”
“But Jews are not noble!” cried Margaret, gazing in bewilderment from Belasez to Doucebelle, as if she expected one of them to help her out of the puzzle.
“Not in the world’s estimate,” answered Belasez. “There is One above the world.”