“I wish I could think so; there are many to say that he is in truth what he appears to be, and therefore one most dangerous to offend.”
“I fear him as little as I scorn him much. I have heard this report before, but heed it not at all. Our holy cause loses little in the apostasy of such a member.”
“It may be so, Inez; but he holds the lives of others in his keeping, and therefore revenge is easily obtained.”
“You will not frighten me, Julian, try as you may. They say Pedro Benito is ill, almost to death—I am sorry for him, for I know no one more unfit to die; but I have far too much pride to fear him, believe me. Better he should injure me, than I my own soul in uniting it with his. See,” she continued, laughing, as she pointed to the portly figure of a Dominican priest pushing his mule up the steep ascent leading to the villa, in such evident haste and trepidation as to occasion some amusement to his beholders; “there is more fear there than I shall ever feel. What can the poor priest need? Do you know him, Julian? comes he to you or me?”
“I trust to neither, Inez, for such hot haste bodes little good.”
“Why, now, what a craven you have grown! I will disown you for my cousin if you pluck not up more spirit, man!”
Julian Alvarez tried to give as jesting a reply, but succeeded badly, his spirits feeling strangely anxious and oppressed. He was spared further rallying on the part of Inez, by the sudden reappearance of the priest (whom they had lost sight of by a curve in the ascent), without his mule, at the private entrance of Inez’s own garden, and without ceremony or question neared the window. Inez addressed him courteously, though with evident surprise; the priest seemed not to heed her words, but laying his hand on her arm, said, in a deep, low tone—
“Donna Inez, this is no time for courtesy or form. Daughter, fly! even now the bloodhounds are on the track. The scent has been given; a dying man proclaimed you a Jewess in hearing of others besides his confessor, else had you been still safe and free. Ere two hours, nay, in less time, they will be here. Away! pause not for thought; seek to save nothing but life, too precious for such sacrifice. A vessel lies moored below, which a brisk hour’s walk will reach. She sails for England the moment the wind shifts; secure a passage in her, and trust in the God of Israel for the rest.”
“And who are you who thus can care for me, knowing that which I am?” answered the lady, in accents low as the supposed priest’s, but far less faltering, and only evincing the shock she had sustained by the sudden whiteness of cheek and lip.
“Men call me—think me, Padre José, my child; but were I such you had not seen me here. That which you are am I, and because I thought Pedro Benito the same, I stood beside his death-bed. Vengeance and apostasy went hand in hand. Ask no more, but hence at once; how may those fragile limbs bear the rack—the flames? Senor Alvarez, shake off this stupor, or it will be too late!”