"Stand forth, Dom Abraham de Balthasar!" said the judge, ostentatiously referring to a paper.
The physician blinked his eyes at the increased light, but did not budge.
"My name is Dom Diego," he said.
"Thy baptismal name imports no more to us than to thee. Perchance I should have said Dom Isaac. Stand forth!"
The physician straightened himself sullenly. "A pretty treatment for a loyal son of Holy Church who hath served his Most Faithful and Catholic Sovereign at the University," he grumbled. "Who accuses me of Judaism? Confront me with the rogue!"
"'Tis against our law," said the secretary.
"Let me hear the specific charges. Read me the counts."
"In the audience-chamber. Anon."
"Confess! confess!" snapped the judge testily.
"To confess needs a sin. I have none but those I have told the priest. But I know my accuser—'tis Gabriel da Costa, a sober and studious young senhor with no ear for a jest, who did not understand that I was rallying the market-woman upon the clearance of her stock by these stinking heretics. I am no more a Jew than Da Costa himself." But even as he spoke, Gabriel knew that they were brother-Jews—he and the prisoner.