“No,” she said. She stood apart, conning him steadily. “Yet I would not have it supposed that you were in any way coerced to this.” They were odd words; but he heeded not their oddness. He was hardly master of the wits which in themselves were never of the brightest. “I require you to declare that it is your own desire that our marriage should be solemnized in accordance with the Jewish rites and the law of Moses.” And he, fretted now by impatience, anxious to have this thing done and ended, made answer hastily: “Why, to be sure I do declare it to be my wish that we should be so married—in the Jewish manner, and in accordance with the law of Moses. And now, where is the Rabbi?” He caught a sound and saw a quiver in the tapestries that masked the door of the alcove. “Ah! He is here, I suppose....” He checked abruptly, and recoiled as from a blow, throwing up his hands in a convulsive gesture. The tapestry had been swept aside, and forth stepped not the Rabbi he expected, but a tall, gaunt man, stooping slightly at the shoulders, dressed in the white habit and black cloak of the order of St. Dominic, his face lost in the shadows of a black cowl. Behind him stood two lay brothers of the order, two armed familiars of the Holy Office, displaying the white cross on their sable doublets. Terrified by that apparition, evoked, as it seemed, by those terribly damning words he had pronounced, Don Rodrigo stood blankly at gaze a moment, not even seeking to understand how this dread thing had come to pass. The friar pushed back his cowl, as he advanced, and displayed the tender, compassionate, infinitely wistful countenance of Frey Tomas de Torquemada. And infinitely compassionate and wistful came the voice of that deeply sincere and saintly man. “My son, I was told this of you—that you were a Judaizer—yet before I could bring myself to believe so incredible a thing in one of your lineage, I required the evidence of my own senses. Oh, my poor child, by what wicked counsels have you been led so far astray?” The sweet, tender eyes of the inquisitor were luminous with unshed tears. Sorrowing pity shook his gentle voice. And then Don Rodrigo’s terror changed to wrath, and this exploded. He flung out an arm towards Isabella in passionate denunciation. “It was that woman who bewitched and fooled and seduced me into this. It was a trap she baited for my undoing.” “It was, indeed. She had my consent to do so, to test the faith which I was told you lacked. Had your heart been free of heretical pravity the trap had never caught you; had your faith been strong, my son, you could not have been seduced from loyalty to your Redeemers.” “Father! Hear me, I implore you!” He flung down upon his knees, and held out shaking, supplicating hands.