“Forgive me,” said the Jew; “I spoke rashly. But there dropped words from you last night and this morning. that, like sparks from flint, showed the metal within; and in the bosom of that Palmer’s gown is hidden a knight’s chain and spurs of gold. They glanced as you stooped over my bed in the morning.”

The Pilgrim could not forbear smiling. “Were thy garments searched by as curious an eye, Isaac,” said he, “what discoveries might not be made ?”

“No more of that,” said the Jew, changing colour; and drawing forth his writing materials in haste, as if to stop the conversation, he began to write upon a piece of paper which he supported on the top of this yellow cap, without dismounting from his mule. When he had finished, he delivered the scroll, which was in the Hebrew character, to the Pilgrim, saying, “In the town of Leicester all men know the rick Jew, Kirjath Jairam of Lombardy: give him this scroll—he hath on sale six Milan harnesses, the worst would suit a crowned head; ten goodly steeds—the worst might mount a king, were he to do battle for his throne. Of these he will give thee thy choice, with everything else that can furnish thee forth for the tournament: when it is over, thou wilt return them safely—unless thou shouldst have wherewith to pay their value to the owner.”

“But, Isaac,” said the Pilgrim, smiling, “dost thou know that in these sports, the arms and steed of the knight who is unhorsed are forfeit to his victor ? Now I may be unfortunate, and so lose what I cannot replace or repay.”

The Jew looked somewhat astounded at this possibility; but collecting his courage, he replied hastily, “No—no—no—it is impossible—I will not think so. The blessing of our Father will be upon thee. Thy lance will be powerful as the rod of Moses.”

So saying, he was turning his mule’s head away, when the Palmer, in his turn, took hold of his gaberdine. Nay but, Isaac, thou knowest not all the risk. The steed may be slain, the armour injured—for I will spare neither horse nor man. Besides, those of thy tribe give nothing for nothing; something there must be paid for their use.”

The Jew twisted himself in the saddle, like a man in a fit of the colic; but his better feelings predominated over those which were most familiar to him. “I care not,” he said, “I care not—let me go. If there is damage, it will cost you nothing—if there is usage money, Kirjath Jairam will forgive it for the sake of his kinsman Isaac. Fare thee well !—yet hark thee, good youth,” said he, turning about, “thrust thyself not too forward into this van hurly-burly—I speak not for endangering the steed, and coat of armour, but for the sake of thine own life and limbs.”

“Gramercy for thy caution,” said the Palmer, again smiling; “I will use thy courtesy frankly, and it will go hard with me but I will requite it.”

They parted, and took different roads for the town of Sheffield.