n was good for him. The devil had a finger in the matter.
I know, too, how they were married. Before one Jew and two Christian
witnesses, they plighted their troth to each other, and exchanged
rings--rings as if it were a Christian ceremony, though he remained a
Jew and she a Christian. He intended to go to the Netherlands with
her, but one of the witnesses betrayed them--denounced them to the Holy
Inquisition. This soon interposed of course, for there it interferes
with everything, and in this case it was necessary; nay more--a
Christian duty. The young wife was seized in the street with her
attendant and thrown into prison; on the rack she entirely lost the
power of speech. The old physician and the doctor were warned in time,
and kept closely concealed. Through Chamberlain de Sa, her uncle--or was
it only her cousin?--through de Sa the wife regained her liberty, and
then I believe all three fled to France--the father, son and wife. But
no, they must have come here...."

"There you have it!" cried the magistrate, interrupting the monk, and
glancing triumphantly at the prelate. "An old practitioner scents crime,
as a tree frog smells rain. Now, for the first time, I can say with
certainty: We have him, and the worst punishment is too little for his
deserts. There shall be an unparalleled execution, something wonderful,
magnificent, grand! You have given me important information, and I thank
you, Father."

"Then you knew nothing?" faltered the librarian; and, raising his neck
higher than usual, the vein in the centre of his forehead swelled with
wrath.

"No, Anselme!" said the abbot. "But it was your duty to speak, as,
unfortunately, it was mine to listen. Come to me again, by and bye; I
have something to say to you."

The librarian bowed silently, coldly and proudly, and without
vouchsafing the magistrate a single glance, went back, not to his books,
but to his cell, where he paced up and down a long time, sorrowfully
murmuring Lopez's name, striking himself on the mouth, pressing his
clenched hand to his brow, and at last throwing himself on his knees to
pray for the Jew, before the image of the crucified Redeemer.

As soon as the monk had left the room, the magistrate exclaimed:

"What unexpected aid! What series of sins lie before us! First the
small ones. He had never worn the Jews' badge, and allowed himself to be
served by Christians, for Caspar's daughters were often at the House
to help in sewing. A swor