Was it indeed Rachel? Those pinched features, those hollow eyes; that figure, so bowed with sorrow, could that be his peerless daughter? What had diamonds and pearls in common with that pale spectre?
The banker could scarcely suppress a cry of angwish as he gaze a upon the wreck of so much beauty. But he gathered courage to cross the room, and stood before her.
"Rachel," said he, in a soft, imploring voice, "do you know me?"
"I know you," replied she, without moving; "do you know me?"
"My beloved child, my heart recognizes yon, and calls you to itself. Come, darling, come and rest within you father's protecting arms. See, they are open to receive you. I have forgiven all, and am ready to devote my whole life to your happiness."
He opened his arms, but Rachel did not stir. She looked at him, and when he saw the look, his hands dropped nerveless to his side.
"Where is Gunther?" asked she. "What have you done with him?"
"I, my child?" exclaimed Eskeles. "The emperor has detected him in some dishonorable act (I know not what), and has sent him recruit to Hungary."
"I have heard this fable before," said Rachel, with a glance of mourn. "The priest who was sent to convert, has tried to console me for my loss, by dinning in my ears that Gunther was a traitor; but I know better. He is the victim of a Jew's revenge. It is you who have accused him with false witnesses, false letters, with all that vengeance can inspire, and wicked gold can buy. You are the accuser of my noble Gunther!" By this time she had arisen, and now she stood confronting her father, her wasted finger pointing toward him, and her sunken eyes glowing like lights from a dark, deep cave. "Who says so? Who has dared accuse me?" said he.
"Your face accuses you!—your eyes, that dare not encounter mine! Nay—do not raise your hand in sacrilegious protest, but answer me. By the faith of your ancestors, are you not the man who denounced him?"