Айвенго / Ivanhoe. Вальтер Скотт

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      The Palmer woke up with sunrise, said his prayers, left his room and entered the room of Isaac the Jew. The Jew was sleeping with a worried face. His hands and arms were moving convulsively, as if struggling with the nightmare.

      The Palmer touched him with his staff. The old man woke up, his grey hair standing almost erect upon his head.

      “Don’t fear me, Isaac,” said the Palmer, “I come as your friend.”

      “May the God of Israel bless you,” said the Jew, greatly relieved. Then, collecting himself, he added in his usual tone, “And what do you want at so early an hour with the poor Jew?”

      “I want to tell you,” said the Palmer, “that if you don’t leave this mansion at once, your journey may become dangerous. When the Templar crossed the hall yesterday night, he spoke to his Muslim slaves in the Saracen language, which I understand, and told them to catch the Jew on the road and bring him to the castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf.”

      It is impossible to describe the terror which seized upon the Jew at this information.

      “Holy God of Abraham!” cried he, raising his wrinkled hands, “Oh, holy Moses! Oh, blessed Aaron! They are going to torture me!”

      “Isaac, listen to me,” said the Palmer, who watched the old man’s distress with compassion, “you have a reason to be afraid, but calm down, and I will show you how to escape. Leave this mansion right now, while everybody is asleep. I will guide you by the secret roads of the forest and I will not leave you until you are safe. Or, if you don’t trust me, you can remain here—Cedric the Saxon will protect you.”

      “Oh, he will not let me go with him!” said the Jew, “Saxon or Norman will be equally ashamed of the poor Israelite, and I cannot travel alone—Good man, I will go with you! Let us hurry!”

      “We will go now,” said the Palmer, “but I must find us a way out, follow me.”

      He went to the small room next door, which was occupied by Gurth the swineherd. – ”Wake up, Gurth,” said the Palmer, “wake up now. Open the small gate, and let out the Jew and me.”

      Gurth was offended at the familiar and commanding tone in which the Palmer spoke.

      “Both Jew and yourself must wait until the big gate is open—we don’t let our visitors out in secret.”

      “Still,” said the Palmer, “you will do it for me.”

      So saying, the Palmer leaned and whispered something in swineherd’s ear in Saxon. Gurth jumped up as if electrified. The Palmer raised his finger and added, “Gurth, be careful. I say, open the small gate and give us two mules—you will know more soon.”

      Gurth hurried to obey him.

      “I wish I knew,” said Wamba, who was watching this scene, when his friend left, “what you Palmers learn in the Holy Land.”

      “To say our prayers, fool,” answered the Palmer.

      “Something more powerful than that,” answered the Jester; “for when did a prayer make Gurth do something?”

      At this moment Gurth came back with two mules and let the travellers out. When the travellers were mounting the mules, the Palmer reached his hand to Gurth, who kissed it.

      The swineherd stood gazing after the travellers until they were lost in the forest.

      “You know,” said Wamba, “my good friend Gurth, that you are strangely polite on this summer morning? I wish I were a monk – I would get much more from you than a kiss of the hand.”