20. XX.
Amri proceeded to the dwelling of Edacer according
to previous appointment. It was now almost night, and
Edacer had gone forth from his lodgings. A slave directed
Amri where to find him, having a command from
his master to that effect. Edacer had gone to visit the
Lady Urraca;—a lady of evil repute, and of whom we
have already spoken. Amri was, or rather had been,
attached to her, and even now there was some show of
regard between them. Of this we shall see more. She
was a lady of the Gothic stock: and, though vicious,
such was the degraded character of the Jew, that it had
been a condescension with her to smile upon Amri, and
a favour bestowed by Edacer to procure him her knowledge.
The gold of Adoniakim procured indulgences
for the Jewish youth from the prostitute of a race which
considered him, even while bestowing upon him the utmost
favours of a seeming affection, degraded even below
humanity, and sometimes treated him accordingly.
Amri received the message with some chagrin.
“Now would I not see her!” he muttered to himself;
“I hate her now as once—Psha! she loves me
not,—it is but a stale fetch,—the trick of the trade;—
love, indeed! To think of love with her,—to think I
should once have been so foolish—so blinded—so besotted—as
to fall into her bonds,—and such accursed
bonds. But I must meet her,—I must seem to meet
her joyfully, too, as if I did not hate, and fear her, and
despise.”
He left the dwelling of Edacer, and moved onward to
that of Urraca; but his thoughts were bitter in the extreme
as he proceeded.
“Now will they clamour for the Jew's money,—the
eternal cry! And I must bear abuse and every scorn
meekly, as if I found some pleasure in it. Would I
were free of her. I fear her now. She doth suspect
my coldness. She has doubts. I must seem fond, for
she is passionate. She would not scruple at my blood,
if she but thought that I strayed from her.”
Soliloquizing thus, he entered the dwelling of the Lady
Urraca. A richly-decorated chamber received him, at
the farthest end of which a pile of cushions sustained the
majestic and symmetrical person of this princely dame.
She wore her most imposing look and expression of
loveliness. Her whole figure was one to fix the eye—
splendidly formed, yet exquisitely and nicely elaborated.
Her skin was darker than that of the Gothic damsels
usually, and a bright Moorish teint might almost have
persuaded the spectator to conceive her a daughter of
that nation. Her eye was black, and suited to her complexion,
while her hair, streaming in rich volumes of flowing
silk down her neck and shoulders, was raven-like
and glossy. Her glance was bright and piercing, like
that of a young eagle for the first time challenging the
sun; and, at the first view, none might seem to be more
innocent, as certainly none could have been more beautiful,
than the Lady Urraca. A second look, however,
would better advise the observer. Quick passions, sudden
moods, impetuous emotions, irresistible impulses,
were momently shown to be in her heart, by the changing
colour on her cheeks, by the violent and rapid rush
of blood through her veins, by the flickering and uncertain
expression of her keen and restless eyes. Her
brow, too, was full of action, and therefore of speech.
It had a power of contraction which threw together a
series of muscular folds just between the eyes, whenever
she became excited, which formed a complete cloud
above them, while they darted forth perpetual lightning
from below. This cloud was partially formed upon her
brow as the young Hebrew came into her presence. She
motioned him with her finger, and he approached. Edacer
sat upon a low cushion by her side. To Amri she
assigned one at her feet. When he had seated himself,
without addressing him with any word, the dame turned
to Edacer and thus spoke:
“My lord Edacer, think you that I am less beautiful
to-night than I was last night, or the night before—or
the past nights for a goodly and long year? Speak, I
pray thee,—have I grown ugly in this time?”
“Truly, Urraca, I were a false lord to think so.
Thou hast lost no beauties, but hast rather acquired
many. I see thee not, but to see in thee each day some
newer loveliness—some better sweetness—some dearer
and more exquisite charm.”
“Mine eyes are yet bright, my lips sweet, my person
has lost nothing, dost thou say?”
“Nothing!—to me, if thou hast changed in any wise,
it has been a better change, if it be that one so lovely
as thyself may change to lovelier and yet continue mortal.”
“And there is no other beauty to vie and mate with
mine, newly come into the city?”
“None—none!” was the still flattering answer.
“Then wherefore is it, I ask thee, that Amri seeks
me not of late? He has beheld the change which has
escaped thine eyes, Lord Edacer—he has noted the absence
of some charm which won him once—or else he
hath seen the newly-arrived beauty, which thy glances
have not yet distinguished.” And, as the vain lady
spoke, with a mixed expression of pride and vexation,
she fixed her keen eyes upon the changing features of
Amri. The Hebrew started; he trembled for his secret,
but a second glance at Urraca reassured him. He saw
from the fickle gaze that her charge was vague and conjectural,
and simply spoke for the natural jealousy of the
woman, having no aim but for the devotion of her creatures,
and apprehensive at all times of new and rival influences.
Recovering himself, therefore, from the momentary
confusion which his own consciousness rather than
her charge of falsehood had induced, he replied promptly,
and with as much show of earnestness and passion as
he could well assume under the emergency,
“Thou dost me wrong, Lady Urraca—thou dost thine
own beauty and surpassing excellence no less a wrong,
when thou sayest I have not willed to seek thee of late.
I have suffered that I have seen thee not. Thou canst
not know the pain I have felt when away from thee.”
“And wherefore didst thou keep away? Do I not
know that thou hadst no occasion?”
“Ay, lady, but I had! The Lord Edacer will do me
justice, and tell thee that we had a serious task together,
which kept me from thee.”
Edacer, thus appealed to, leaned over to where Amri
sat, and whispered him,
“Hast thou brought the jewels—the gold?”
Amri whispered him in return,
“Thou wilt find the gold in the silk mantle which is
behind thee.”
“What say ye to each other?” demanded Urraca, impatiently.
“We spoke of that same business, Urraca, which hath
kept Amri from thy presence;” and, while he spoke, the
mercenary Edacer assured himself that the mantle and
gold were behind him.
“Thou answerest for him, then?” she asked.
“I do—I know what cares have kept him from thee.
He hath spoken but the truth, Urraca, and thou must
forgive him.”
“And for my forgiveness, fair Lady Urraca, I pray
thee to wear this;” and, as he spoke, Amri arose, and
drawing from his vest a glittering ornament of precious
gems, making a rich tiara, was about to place it upon
her head, when, suddenly grasping his arm, she tore the
jewels from his hand, and dashed them upon the floor.
“It buys no forgiveness from me, Amri! Thou
knowest me not,—neither thou nor the Lord Edacer.
Leave me, my lord, I pray thee, for a while. I would
be alone with Amri. Leave me with him. I have that
to say which is for his ears only. Go to the other chamber
till I call.”
In silence and astonishment the Gothic noble withdrew,
leaving the no less astounded Hebrew with the
now deeply-excited woman. But he preserved his composure,
and prepared himself, as well as he might, for the
anticipated outbreak.
