“Rebecca, thou canst derive no benefit from
the evidence of this unhappy knight, for whom, as
we well perceive, the Enemy is yet too powerful.
Hast thou aught else to say?”
“There is yet one chance of life left to me,”
said Rebecca, “even by your own fierce laws.
Life has been miserable—–miserable,
at least, of late—–but I will not
cast away the gift of God, while he affords me the
means of defending it. I deny this charge—–I
maintain my innocence, and I declare the falsehood
of this accusation—–I challenge the
privilege of trial by combat, and will appear by my
champion.”
“And who, Rebecca,” replied the Grand
Master, “will lay lance in rest for a sorceress?
who will be the champion of a Jewess?”
“God will raise me up a champion,” said
Rebecca—–“It cannot be that
in merry England—–the hospitable,
the generous, the free, where so many are ready to
peril their lives for honour, there will not be found
one to fight for justice. But it is enough that
I challenge the trial by combat—–there
lies my gage.”
She took her embroidered glove from her hand, and
flung it down before the Grand Master with an air
of mingled simplicity and dignity, which excited universal
surprise and admiration.
------There I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee to the extremest point
Of martial daring.
Richard ii
Even Lucas Beaumanoir himself was affected by the
mien and appearance of Rebecca. He was not originally
a cruel or even a severe man; but with passions by
nature cold, and with a high, though mistaken, sense
of duty, his heart had been gradually hardened by
the ascetic life which he pursued, the supreme power
which he enjoyed, and the supposed necessity of subduing
infidelity and eradicating heresy, which he conceived
peculiarly incumbent on him. His features relaxed
in their usual severity as he gazed upon the beautiful
creature before him, alone, unfriended, and defending
herself with so much spirit and courage. He crossed
himself twice, as doubting whence arose the unwonted
softening of a heart, which on such occasions used
to resemble in hardness the steel of his sword.
At length he spoke.
“Damsel,” he said, “if the pity
I feel for thee arise from any practice thine evil
arts have made on me, great is thy guilt. But
I rather judge it the kinder feelings of nature, which
grieves that so goodly a form should be a vessel of
perdition. Repent, my daughter—–confess
thy witchcrafts—–turn thee from thine
evil faith—–embrace this holy emblem,
and all shall yet be well with thee here and hereafter.
In some sisterhood of the strictest order, shalt thou
have time for prayer and fitting penance, and that
repentance not to be repented of. This do and
live—–what has the law of Moses done
for thee that thou shouldest die for it?”
“It was the law of my fathers,” said Rebecca;
“it was delivered in thunders and in storms
upon the mountain of Sinai, in cloud and in fire.
This, if ye are Christians, ye believe—–it
is, you say, recalled; but so my teachers have not
taught me.”
