“Why, so do I,” quoth he, who had so much to gain.
“And, therefore, because after all, though I profess Christianity, there is Jewish blood in my veins, I would have a marriage that must satisfy even my father when he regains his freedom, as I believe he will—for, after all, he is not charged with any sin against the faith.”
She paused, and he was conscious of a premonitory chill upon his ardour.
“What do you mean?” he asked her, and his voice was strained.
“I mean—you’ll not be angry with me?—I mean that I would have us married not only by a Christian priest, and in the Christian manner, but also and first of all by a Rabbi, and in accordance with the Jewish rites.”
Upon the words, she felt his encircling arms turn limp, and relax their grip upon her, whereupon she clung to him the more tightly.
“Rodrigo! Rodrigo! If you truly love me, if you truly want me, you’ll not deny me this condition, for I swear to you that once I am your wife you shall never hear anything again to remind you that I am of Jewish blood.”
His face turned ghastly pale, his lips writhed and twitched, and beads of sweat stood out upon his brow.
“My God!” he groaned. “What do you ask? I... I can’t. It were a desecration, a defilement.”
She thrust him from her in a passion. “You regard it so? You protest love, and in the very hour when I propose to sacrifice all to you, you will not make this little sacrifice for my sake, you even insult the faith that was my forbears’, if it is not wholly mine. I misjudged you, else I had not bidden you here to-day. I think you had better leave me.”