“You are wounded, my lord—and the blood is flowing!” cried Stephano. “Hasten, friend Isaachar—and fetch water, bandages——”
“It is nothing—a mere scratch,” exclaimed the marquis, tearing away with his left hand the right sleeve of his doublet, and displaying a tolerably severe gash, which ran down the forearm lengthwise, and from which the blood trickled on the floor. “Be kind enough to bind it with my scarf, Signor Verrina, and let us continue in a more peaceful manner the discourse which has been somewhat rudely interrupted.”
Isaachar, however, supplied water in an ewer, and linen bandages; and the old man, forgetting the object of Manuel’s predatory visit to his abode, hastened himself to wash and bind up the wounded arm.
“Thou art a good Jew—and hast something of the feeling of the Christian in thee,” said the marquis, when the operation was completed.
“Didst thou ever suppose that different creeds made different hearts, my lord?” asked the old man, in a half melancholy, half reproachful tone.
“Isaachar, I shall not forget this kindness on your part,” said the marquis, blushing with shame at himself, when he reflected on the purpose for which he had sought the Jew’s dwelling. “Heaven knows it is not in my power to reward you with gold; but whenever I may henceforth hear your race traduced, reckon upon me as its champion.”
The old man cast a look of gratitude upon the marquis; and, after some little hesitation, he said in a tremulous tone, “Your lordship hinted ere now—at least methought I understood as much—that you required gold. I take Father Abraham above to witness that I am not so rich as ye Christians deem me to be; but—since your lordship can say a kind word of the Jew—I—I will lend you such sum as you may need—without interest—without bond——”
Orsini, in whose breast all generous feeling had not been entirely crushed by the vices which had proved his ruin, extended his left hand—for his right now hung in a sling—to the kind-hearted Jew, exclaiming, “There is the signor to whom I am indebted, worthy Isaachar; it is for him to say whether he will press me immediately for the sum that I have fairly lost to him with the dice.”
“Not I!” ejaculated Stephano, in his blunt, coarse manner. “And therefore your lordship need not lay yourself under any obligation to the Jew, who, after all, is a worthy signor in his way.”
“Yes,” exclaimed the marquis, “I shall ever lie under an obligation to him; nor shall I be ashamed to proclaim the fact in the presence of all Florence.”