“Nay, nay!” exclaimed one of the spectators, “thou art fairly hit, sir Guiseppo.”
“Aye, aye, fairly hit,” cried another; and “The Jew has paid thee in thine own coin,” a third shouted, throwing himself in the path of the page.
“Nay, nay, let him come!” cried the Jew, with a sneer. “Let him come. I’ll tame his pageship.”
“Dost thou mock me, thou dog!” As he spoke, the page raised his oaken staff, and whirling it around his head, he aimed with all his strength at the sconce of the Jew, who coolly turned aside the blow with his upraised arm, and in an instant he had Guiseppo by the throat.
He whispered a word in the ear of the page, and then, unloosing his hold, he began to gather up his wares.
The eyebrows of the page elevated with astonishment, and his lips parted. The bystanders gathered around Guiseppo with various expressions of their surprise at the sudden change that had passed over him.
“Why stare you so?” exclaimed a peasant maid.
“Art mad?” asked one of the yeoman of the guard.
“Perhaps moon-struck?” suggested another.
Guiseppo made no reply, but walked slowly away, while the Jew remained standing in the centre of the group, with his servitor waiting silently by his side.