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Updated: June 13, 2025
And after that He will provide. My son, wilt thou come for the child to-morrow? I will let thee out at the postern door; for thou hadst better not meet Delecresse." And Abraham drew back the bolt, and opened the baize door. "Father Jacob!" they heard him instantly ejaculate, in a very different tone from that of his last words.
There was, therefore, some excuse for Richard, educated as he had been in this belief. Delecresse, on the contrary, had been as carefully brought up in the opposite conviction. To him it was the Gentile who was the refuse of humanity, and it was a perpetual humiliation to be forced to cringe to, and wait upon, such contemptible creatures.
Bad as he was in one respect, he was capable of personal attachment as well as of hatred; and Sir Piers' delicate notions of love rather astonished him. But Sir Piers was very far from being the only man who was or is incapable of entertaining any others. Delecresse soon recovered himself. He was too anxious to get his work done, to quarrel with his tools.
"I seek it on Sir Richard de Clare, the young Earl of Gloucester." "He is no friend of mine!" said Sir Piers, between his teeth. "His father married the woman I wanted. I should rather enjoy it than otherwise." "The Lady his mother yet lives." "What is that to me? She is an old hag. What do I care for her now?" Delecresse felt staggered for a moment.
"O my son, light of mine eyes, what hast thou done!" mournfully ejaculated old Abraham, as he resigned the attempt to influence or reason with Delecresse. "Done? made those vile Gentiles wince, I hope!" retorted Licorice. "I hate every man, woman, and child among them. I should like to bake them all in the oven!" And she shut the door of that culinary locality with a bang.
Down, down, plunging overhead into some soft, evil-odoured, horrible mass, from which, by grasping an iron bar that projected above, he just managed so far to raise himself as to get his head free. And then the dreadful truth broke upon him, and his cries for help became piercing. Delecresse had fallen into the open cess-pool of Tewkesbury Castle. Suddenly he ceased to shriek, and all was still.
The storm was over now, and they gained home and the chamber over the porch without coming in contact with Delecresse. Abraham left Bruno there, while he desired Belasez to take off her wet things and rejoin them. Meantime he changed his coat, and carried up wine and cake to his guest. But when Belasez reappeared, Abraham drew the bolt, and closed the inner baize door which shut out all sound.
Why should I, when he read the words of one of our own prophets, and in the holy tongue, rendering it into French as he went on? And Delecresse said it was correctly translated, for I asked him afterwards. He saw nothing in it different from usual. But it was terrible to me!
Beatrice could guess of what woman Abraham was especially thinking. "Is Cress come with thee, my father?" "No not here," answered the old Jew, emphatically. "And he never can." "Why?" "Belasez, I have a sad tale to tell thee." "O my father! Is there anything wrong with Cress?" It was impossible to recognise Delecresse as uncle instead of brother. "Ay, child, wrong enough!" said Abraham sadly.
"Delecresse," she said, the first time she was alone with her brother, "had we ever a sister?" "Never, to my knowledge," said Delecresse, looking as if he wondered what had put that notion into her head. Evidently he knew nothing. "Genta," she said, "tell me when my sister died." "Thy sister, Belasez?" Genta's expression was one of most innocent perplexity. "Hadst thou ever a sister?"
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