The poor girl screamed piercingly, and so did the Duchess, who sprang from her horse. Gonzaga, brutally laughing and swearing, called the dog off without success; but the Moorish stable-boy, seizing it by the tail, bit it till his teeth met. The unfortunate Cynthia was released, and she fell swooning into the arms of her compassionate mistress, whose dress was stained with her blood. She was instantly relieved of her burthen, however, by her _maestro di casa_, Perez, who bore her off to her women, while the hunting-party pressed round Giulia to extol her humanity to the skies. Turning to the Cardinal she said, expressively-- "She _is_ of the same flesh and blood, after all!" And then went to visit her poor wounded maiden, and change her dress. Cynthia, more dead than alive, was laid on a pallet bed, and Caterina was in anxious attendance on her, while a Jewish physician dressed the wound. "Do you think she will die?" said the Duchess in a low voice. "It is impossible, at present," returned he, "to pronounce an opinion." Cynthia opened her languid eyes, and seeing the Duchess's dress stained with her blood, mutely drew it to her lips. Giulia kindly patted her hand, saying-- "My poor girl! Keep quiet; be patient, and you will soon be well," and then withdrew. When she re-entered the _sala di compagnía_, her cousin was telling stories in a loud over-bearing voice, of the feats of his dog in hunting up and pulling down Moors, Jews, and heretics. The brute's ancestors had distinguished themselves in this line during the repeated massacres in Spain. "Pray desist, Alfonso," said the Duchess, "or I shall be unable to eat my dinner." He laughed, and continued his narrations in a lower voice. This was the Cardinal's last day, and he grudged every moment of Giulia's time that was devoted to any but himself. "Is the girl going on well?" said he to her. "The wound is dressed, but her recovery is considered doubtful by Bar Hhasdai. Do you disapprove of my employing a Jewish leech?" "By no means; there are none equal to them. The Spaniards did very foolishly, I think, to expel the whole race. There are no such physicians, astronomers, or metaphysicians." "They are sad infidels, however, and Bar Hhasdai is unconverted." "All the better," said the Cardinal lightly. "I distrust renegades. Better be a good Jew than a bad Christian. In medicine especially, I believe a baptised Jew loses half his virtue; the charm is broken." "That never occurred to me," said the Duchess. "But I dare say it is so, since you say it."