Gerhardt lifted little Rudolph from his mother’s arms and placed him in those of the dark-eyed maiden.
“The Lord watch over thee and him!” he said.
“Amen!” And as Countess carried away the baby close pressed to her bosom, they saw her stoop down and kiss it almost passionately.
“Holy Virgin! what have you done, Gerard?” cried Isel in horror. “Don’t you know there is poison in a Jew’s breath? They’ll as sure cast a spell upon that baby as my name’s Isel.”
“No, I don’t,” said Gerhardt a little drily. “I only know that some men say so. I have placed my child in the hands of the Lord; and He, not I, has laid it in that maiden’s. It may be that this little kindness is a link in the chain of Providence, whereby He designs to bring her soul to Him. Who am I, if so, that I should put my boy or myself athwart His purpose?”
“Well, you’re mighty pious, I know,” said Isel. “Seems to me you should have been a monk, by rights. However, what’s done is done. Let’s be going, for there’s no time to waste.”
They went a little way down Fish Street, passing the Jewish synagogue, which stood about where the northernmost tower of Christ Church is now, turned to the left along Civil School Lane—at the south end of Tom Quad, coming out about Canterbury Gate—pursued their way along Saint John Baptist Street, now Merton Street, and turning again to the left where it ended, skirted the wall till they reached the East Gate. Here a heterogeneous crowd was assembled, about the gate, and on the top were perched a number of adventurous youths, among whom Haimet was descried.
“Anything coming?” Gerhardt called to him.
“Yes, a drove of pigs,” Haimet shouted back.
The pigs came grunting in, to be sarcastically greeted by the crowd, who immediately styled the old sow and her progeny by the illustrious names of Queen Eleonore and the royal children. Her Majesty was not very popular, the rather since she lived but little in England, and was known greatly to prefer her native province of Aquitaine. Still, a show was always a show, and the British public is rarely indifferent to it.