, and as fast as they bear the wounded to the rear, fresh men
supply their places in the assault. Great God! hast thou given men thine
own image that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their
brethren!" "Think not of that," replied Ivanhoe; "this is no time for such
thoughts. Who yield? Who push their way?"

"The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shuddering; "the soldiers
lie groveling under them like crushed reptiles; the besieged have the
better." "Saint George strike for us!" said the knight; "do the false
yeomen give way?" "No," exclaimed Rebecca, "they bear themselves right
yeomanly; the Black Knight approaches the postern with his huge ax; the
thundering blows which he deals, you may hear them above all the din and
shouts of the battle; stones and beams are hailed down on the brave
champion; he regards them no more than if they were thistle down and
feathers."

"Saint John of Acre!" said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his couch,
"methought there was but one man in England that might do such a deed."
"The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca; "it crashes--it is
splintered by his powerful blows--they rush in--the outwork is won! O God!
they hurry the defenders from the battlements--they throw them into the
moat! O men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer!"
"The bridge--the bridge which communicates with the castle--have they won
that pass?" exclaimed Ivanhoe. "No," replied Rebecca; "the Templar has
destroyed the plank on which they crossed--few of the defenders escaped
with him into the castle--the shrieks and cries which you hear, tell the
fate of the others. Alas! I see that it is still more difficult to look
upon victory than upon battle."

"What do they now, maiden?" said Ivanhoe; "look forth yet again--this is
no time to faint at bloodshed." "It is over, for a time," said Rebecca;
"our friends strengthen themselves within the outwork which they have
mastered." "Our friends," said Ivanhoe, "will surely not abandon an
enterprise so gloriously begun, and so happily attained; Oh no! I will put
my faith in the good knight whose ax has rent heart of oak and bars of
iron. Singular," he again muttered to himself, "if there can be two who
are capable of such achievements. It is,--it must be Richard Coeur de
Lion."

"Seest thou nothing else. Rebecca, by which the Black Knight may be
distinguished?" "Nothing," said the Jewess, "all about him is as black as
the wing