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"There is no one to call me Belasez now!" Bruno clasped her closer. "My darling!" he said, "so long as the Lord spares us to each other, thou wilt always be belle assez for me!" She was the young widow of William, Earl of Pembroke, the eldest brother of the husband of Marjory of Scotland. "Joy for the freed one!
Indeed, there was no reason to hide it from thee further than this, that the tale being a painful one, thy father and I have not cared to talk about it. This Anegay was the sister of Abraham thy father, and therefore thine aunt." Belasez, who had been imagining that Anegay might have been her father's sister, at once mentally decided that she was not.
And she said, No: but she thought there was one Christian priest who was like what the Scripture described Christ to be." "Did she say that?" There was a tone of tender regret in the priest's voice. "She did. But, Father, I want to know how to deal with Belasez. Sometimes she will talk to me quite freely, and tell me all her thoughts and feelings: at other times I cannot get a word out of her."
Before Margaret could reply, the deep bass "Ding-dong!" of the great dinner-bell rang through the Castle, and Levina made her appearance at the door. "My Lady has given me charge concerning thee, Belasez," she said, rather coldly addressing the Jewess. "Thou wilt come with me." With a graceful reverence to Margaret, Belasez turned, and followed Levina.
Is not the day at hand when they shall be our ploughmen and vine-dressers?" "Well, then," answered Belasez, assuming a playfulness which she was far from feeling, "when Sir Richard is thy ploughman, thou canst knock his cap off." "Pish! They like high interest, these Christians. I'll let them have it, the other way about." "Cress, what dost thou mean to do?"
"I do not think about it," said Belasez, in the same tone as before. "What is to be will be." "But what is to be," said Margaret, "may be very delightful, or it may be very horrid." "Yes, no doubt," was the cool answer. "I shall see when the time comes." Margaret turned away, with a shrug of her shoulders and a comic look in her eyes which nearly upset the gravity of the rest.
"If my Lady will pardon me," said poor Belasez, driven into a corner, "I did not like it." "What kind was it?" "Levina said it was Suffolk cheese." Belasez's conscience rather smote her in giving this answer. "Ah!" responded the unconscious Countess, "it is often hard, and everybody does not like it, I know." Belasez was silent beyond a slight reverence to show that she heard the observation.
Belasez could not remember having ever opened it. She pulled it down now, just missing a sprained wrist in the process, and found it to be a splendid copy of the Hagiographa, with full-page pictures, glowing with colours and gold.
I have dwelt all this summer at Lincoln, with my mother's father." "`The Devil overlooks Lincoln, they say," remarked Margaret, laughingly. "I hope he did thee no mischief, Belasez. But, perhaps Jews do not believe in the Devil?" "Ah! We have good cause to believe in the Devil," answered Belasez gravely. "Nay, Damsel, he did me no mischief. Yet what know I? The Holy One knoweth all things."
It was wanted for the rich usurer's wife, Rosia: and she wished Belasez to come to her with specimens of various patterns, so that she might select the one she preferred. A walk through the city was an agreeable and unusual break in the monotony of existence; and Rosia's house was quite at the other end of the Jews' quarter. Belasez prepared to go out with much alacrity.
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