Ben Jonah at the Hague.
Rebecca temporized as best she might. She thought her uncle was too old.
She besought dear Moses and dear Simeon not to quarrel with each other,
and offend their father by pressing their suit. Ben Minories from
London, she said, was too young, and Jochanan from Paris, she pointed
out to Isaac of York, must be a spendthrift, or he would not wear those
absurd waistcoats. As for Ben Jonah, she said, she could not bear the
notion of tobacco and Dutch herrings: she wished to stay with her papa,
her dear papa. In fine, she invented a thousand excuses for delay, and
it was plain that marriage was odious to her. The only man whom she
received with anything like favor, was young Bevis Marks of London, with
whom she was very familiar. But Bevis had come to her with a certain
token that had been given to him by an English knight, who saved him
from a fagot to which the ferocious Hospitaller Folko of Heydenbraten
was about to condemn him. It was but a ring, with an emerald in it, that
Bevis knew to be sham, and not worth a groat. Rebecca knew about the
value of jewels too; but ah! she valued this one more than all the
diamonds in Prester John's turban. She kissed it; she cried over it;
she wore it in her bosom always and when she knelt down at night and
morning, she held it between her folded hands on her neck.
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