“He is captured by the Turks,” replied Bacri, “and is now in the Bagnio.”
“Where they will doubtless bastinado him to death,” said Francisco, grinding his teeth and clenching his hands with suppressed passion. “Bacri, I feel that in me which makes me long to run a-muck among these Turks.”
“I understand you not,” said Bacri.
“Why, I will take the first opportunity that offers to cut the throats of as many of these fiends as possible before they manage to cut mine. They say that vengeance is sweet. I will taste it and try,” said the merchant, with a grim smile.
“‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord,’” returned Bacri slowly; “says not your own Scripture so?”
“It may be so, but man’s power of endurance is limited,” retorted Francisco gloomily.
“But God’s power to aid and strengthen is not limited,” returned the Jew. “Believe me, no good ever came of violence—at least from revengeful violence. No doubt a violent assault at the right time and with a right motive has often carried the day; but violence given way to for the mere purpose of gratifying the feelings is not only useless, it is hurtful and childish.”
“Hast never given way to such thyself, Bacri?” demanded Francisco with some asperity.
“I have,” replied the Jew with humility, “and it is because I have done so that I am enabled to speak with some authority as to the results. Your desire, I suppose, is to save Mariano. If you would attain that end, you must learn to curb your passions and use the powers of judgment with which your Maker has endowed you.”
“Well, well, we will let that point hang on its peg in the meantime,” returned Francisco impatiently; “but what wouldst thou advise? we are at your mercy.”