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