In truth, her instinct had not been at fault; Daniel, who was no longer smiling, no longer the feeble and humble old man, but rather, fury flashing from his little round eyes, seemed inspired by the spirit of Vengeance, was in the midst of a throng of Jews eager, like himself, to wreak their thirsty hate on one of the enemies of their religion. He seemed to multiply himself, giving orders to some, urging others forward in the work, making, with a hideous solicitude, all the necessary preparations for the accomplishment of the frightful deed which he had been meditating, day in, day out, while, impassive, he hammered the anvil in his den at Toledo.
Sara, who, favored by the darkness, had succeeded in reaching the porch of the church, had to make a supreme effort to suppress a cry of horror as her glance penetrated its interior. In the ruddy glow of a blaze which threw the shadow of that infernal group on the walls of the church, she thought she saw that some were making efforts to raise a heavy cross, while others wove a crown of briers, or sharpened on a stone the points of enormous nails. A fearful thought crossed her mind. She remembered that her race had been accused more than once of mysterious crimes. She recalled vaguely the terrifying story of the Crucified Child which she had hitherto believed a gross calumny invented by the populace for the taunting and reproaching of the Hebrews.
But now there was no longer room for doubt. There, before her eyes, were those awful instruments of martyrdom, and the ferocious executioners only awaited their victim.
Sara, filled with holy indignation, overflowing with noble wrath and inspired by that unquenchable faith in the true God whom her lover had revealed to her, could not control herself at sight of that spectacle, and, breaking through the tangled undergrowth that concealed her, suddenly appeared on the threshold of the temple.
On beholding her the Jews raised a cry of amazement, and Daniel, taking a step toward his daughter with threatening aspect, hoarsely asked her: “What seekest thou here, unhappy one?”
“I come to cast in your faces,” said Sara, in a clear, unfaltering voice, “all the shame of your infamous work and I come to tell you that in vain you await the victim for the sacrifice, unless you mean to quench in me your thirst for blood, for the Christian you are expecting will not come, because I have warned him of your plot.”
“Sara!” exclaimed the Jew, roaring with anger, “Sara, this is not true; thou canst not have been so treacherous to us as to reveal our mysterious rites. If it is true that thou hast revealed them, thou art no longer my daughter.”
“No, I am not thy daughter. I have found another Father, a father all love for his children, a Father whom you Jews nailed to an ignominious cross and who died upon it to redeem us, opening to us for an eternity the doors of heaven. No, I am no longer thy daughter, for I am a Christian, and I am ashamed of my origin.”
On hearing these words, pronounced with that strong fortitude which heaven puts only into the mouth of martyrs, Daniel, blind with rage, rushed upon the beautiful Hebrew girl and, throwing her to the ground, dragged her by the hair, as though he were possessed by an infernal spirit, to the foot of the cross which seemed to open its bare arms to receive her.
“Here I deliver her up to you,” he exclaimed to those who stood around. “Deal justice to this shameless one, who has sold her honor, her religion and her brethren.”