"I got you out of Front-de-Boeufs castle," said poor Wamba, piteously,
appealing to Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, "and canst thou not save me from
the lash?"
"Yes, from Front-de-Boeuf's castle, WHERE YOU WERE LOCKED UP WITH THE
JEWESS IN THE TOWER!" said Rowena, haughtily replying to the timid
appeal of her husband. "Gurth, give him four dozen!"
And this was all poor Wamba got by applying for the mediation of his
master.
In fact, Rowena knew her own dignity so well as a princess of the
royal blood of England, that Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, her consort, could
scarcely call his life his own, and was made, in all things, to feel the
inferiority of his station. And which of us is there acquainted with the
sex that has not remarked this propensity in lovely woman, and how often
the wisest in the council are made to be as fools at HER board, and the
boldest in the battle-field are craven when facing her distaff?
"Where you were locked up with the Jewess in the tower," was a
remark, too, of which Wilfrid keenly felt, and perhaps the reader will
understand, the significancy. When the daughter of Isaac of York brought
her diamonds and rubies--the poor gentle victim!--and, meekly laying
them at the feet of the conquering Rowena, departed into foreign lands
to tend the sick of her people, and to brood over the bootless passion
which consumed her own pure heart, one would have thought that the heart
of the royal lady would have melted before such beauty and humility, and
that she would have been generous in the moment of her victory.
Pages:
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437