And Levina disappeared without venturing a reply.
“What have they done to thy brother, Belasez?” asked Margaret.
“They beat him sorely. Damsel, and turned him forth into the street.”
“Where did he go?”
“That is known to the Blessed One. Out in the fields somewhere. It is not the first time that a Jew hath lain hidden for a night or more, until the fury of the Christians should pass away.”
Doucebelle de Vaux was a grave and thoughtful girl, beyond her years. She sat silent now, trying to recall, from the stores of a memory not too well furnished, whether Christ, whom these Christians professed to follow, had ever treated people in such a manner as this. At length she remembered that she had seen a picture at Thetford of His driving sundry people out of the Temple with a scourge. But was that because they were Jews? Doucebelle thought not. She was too ignorant to be sure, but she fancied they had been doing something wrong.
“I should think,” said Margaret warmly, “that you Jews must hate us Christians.”
“Christians are not all alike,” said Belasez with a faint smile.
“But do you not hate us?” persisted Margaret.
“Delecresse does, I am afraid,” replied Belasez, colouring.