“Robber and villain!” cried the Jew, “I will pay thee nothing—not one silver penny will I pay thee unless my daughter is delivered to me in safety!”
“Art thou in thy senses, Israelite?” asked the Norman sternly. “Hast thy flesh and blood a charm against heated iron and scalding oil?”
“I care not!” replied the Jew, rendered desperate by paternal affection; “my daughter is my flesh and blood, dearer to me a thousand times than those limbs thy cruelty threatens. No silver will I give thee unless I were to pour it molten down thy [v]avaricious throat—no, not a silver penny will I give thee, [v]Nazarene, were it to save thee from the deep damnation thy whole life has merited. Take my life, if thou wilt, and say that the Jew, amidst his tortures, knew how to disappoint the Christian.”
“We shall see that,” said Front-de-Boeuf; “for by the blessed [v]rood thou shalt feel the extremities of fire and steel! Strip him, slaves, and chain him down upon the bars.”
In spite of the feeble struggles of the old man, the Saracens had already torn from him his upper garment and were proceeding totally to disrobe him, when the sound of a bugle, twice winded without the castle, penetrated even to the recesses of the dungeon. Immediately after voices were heard calling for Sir Reginald Front-de-Boeuf. Unwilling to be found engaged in his hellish occupation, the savage baron gave the slaves a signal to restore Isaac’s garment; and, quitting the dungeon with his attendants, he left the Jew to thank God for his own deliverance or to lament over his daughter’s captivity, as his personal or parental feelings might prove the stronger.
III
When the bugle sounded, De Bracy was engaged in pressing his suit with the Saxon heiress Rowena, whom he had carried off under the impression that she would speedily surrender to his rough wooing. But he found her [v]obdurate as well as tearful and in no humor to listen to his professions of devotion. It was, therefore, with some relief that the free-lance heard the summons at the barbican. Going into the hall of the castle, De Bracy was presently joined by Bois-Guilbert.
“Where is Front-de-Boeuf!” the latter asked.
“He is [v]negotiating with the Jew, I suppose,” replied De Bracy, coolly; “probably the howls of Isaac have drowned the blast of the bugle. But we will make the [v]vassals call him.”
They were soon after joined by Front-de-Boeuf, who had only tarried to give some necessary directions.