“Is it not too late to ask such questions, Señor? If I am not to be trusted, already you and your people are in the hollow of my hand?”
“Not at all, not at all, my dear,” said Israel. “If we see the slightest cause to doubt you, why, there are many great vats in this place, one of which, at a pinch, would serve you as a coffin, though it would be a pity to spoil the good wine.”
Inez laughed as she answered:
“Save your wine, and your time too. Morella has cast me off, and I hate him, and wish to escape from him and rob him of his prize. Also, I desire money to live on afterwards, and this you must give to me or I do not stir, or rather the promise of it, for you Jews keep your word, and I do not ask a maravedi from you until I have played my part.”
“And then how many maravedis do you ask, young woman?”
Inez named a sum, at the mention of which both of them opened their eyes, and old Israel exclaimed drily:
“Surely—surely you must be one of us.”
“No,” she answered, “but I try to follow your example, and, if I am to live at all, it shall be in comfort.”
“Quite so,” said Castell, “we understand. But now tell us, what do you propose to do for this money?”
“I propose to set you, your daughter, the Dona Margaret, and her lover, the Señor Brome, safe and free outside the walls of Granada, and to leave the Marquis of Morella married to another woman.”