"I am sure of that; nevertheless, it is good thou shouldst say it." "If the Cohen agree," said Leo, stroking his white beard, "I am willing to make a compromise. As we have no child, and thou art so fond of children, the child shall abide with thee, on condition that thou take a like oath to bring him up a proselyte of Israel: and then let him be circumcised on the eighth day after his coming here. But if not, some friend of his parents must be found. What say you, Cohen?" "I am willing so to have it." "I am not," said Countess shortly. "As to friends of the child's parents, there are none such, save the God for whom they died, and in whose presence they stand to-night. I must keep mine oath. Unhurt in body, unhurt in soul, according to their conception thereof, and according to my power, will I bring the boy to his father at the coming of Messiah." "Wife, wouldst thou have the Cohen curse thee in the face of all Israel?" "These rash vows!" exclaimed the Rabbi, in evident uneasiness. "Daughter, it is written in the Thorah that if any woman shall make a vow, her husband may establish it or make it void, if he do so in the day that he hear it; and the Blessed One (unto whom be praise!) shall forgive her, and she shall not perform the vow." "The vow was made before I was Leo's wife." "Well, but in the day that he hath heard it, it is disallowed." "There is something else written in the Thorah, Cohen. `Every vow of a widow, or of her that is divorced, shall stand.'" "Father Isaac! when didst thou read the Thorah? Women have no business to do any such thing." "It is there, whether they have or not." "Then it was thy father's part to disallow it." "I told him of my vow, and he did not." "That is an awkward thing!" said Leo in a low tone to the Rabbi. "I must consult the Rabbins," was the answer. "It may be we shall find a loophole, to release the foolish woman. Canst thou remember the exact words of thy vow?" "What matter the exact words? The Holy One (blessed be He!) looketh on the heart, and He knew what I meant to promise." "Yet how didst thou speak?" "I have told you. I said, `God do so to me and more also, if I bring not the child to you unhurt!'" "Didst thou say `God'? or did the man say it, and thy word was only `He'?" asked the Rabbi eagerly, fancying that he saw a way of escape. "What do I know which it was? I meant Him, and that is in His eyes as if I had said it." "Countess, if thou be contumacious, I cannot shelter thee," said Leo sternly. "My daughter," answered the Rabbi, still suavely, though he was not far from anger, "I am endeavouring to find thee a way of escape." "I do not wish to escape. I sware, and I will do it. Oh, bid me depart!" she cried, almost fiercely, turning to Leo. "I cannot bear this endless badgering. Give me my raiment and my jewels, and bid me depart in peace!"