Ivanhoe - Page 193/201

"Alas!" said Rebecca, "what advantages could compensate for such an

absolute sacrifice?"

"The power of vengeance, Rebecca," replied the Templar, "and the

prospects of ambition."

"An evil recompense," said Rebecca, "for the surrender of the rights

which are dearest to humanity."

"Say not so, maiden," answered the Templar; "revenge is a feast for the

gods! And if they have reserved it, as priests tell us, to themselves,

it is because they hold it an enjoyment too precious for the possession

of mere mortals.--And ambition? it is a temptation which could disturb

even the bliss of heaven itself."--He paused a moment, and then added,

"Rebecca! she who could prefer death to dishonour, must have a proud and

a powerful soul. Mine thou must be!--Nay, start not," he added, "it must

be with thine own consent, and on thine own terms. Thou must consent to

share with me hopes more extended than can be viewed from the throne

of a monarch!--Hear me ere you answer and judge ere you refuse.--The

Templar loses, as thou hast said, his social rights, his power of free

agency, but he becomes a member and a limb of a mighty body, before

which thrones already tremble,--even as the single drop of rain which

mixes with the sea becomes an individual part of that resistless ocean,

which undermines rocks and ingulfs royal armadas. Such a swelling flood

is that powerful league. Of this mighty Order I am no mean member, but

already one of the Chief Commanders, and may well aspire one day to hold

the batoon of Grand Master. The poor soldiers of the Temple will not

alone place their foot upon the necks of kings--a hemp-sandall'd monk

can do that. Our mailed step shall ascend their throne--our gauntlet

shall wrench the sceptre from their gripe. Not the reign of your

vainly-expected Messiah offers such power to your dispersed tribes as my

ambition may aim at. I have sought but a kindred spirit to share it, and

I have found such in thee."

"Sayest thou this to one of my people?" answered Rebecca. "Bethink

thee--"

"Answer me not," said the Templar, "by urging the difference of our

creeds; within our secret conclaves we hold these nursery tales in

derision. Think not we long remained blind to the idiotical folly of our

founders, who forswore every delight of life for the pleasure of dying

martyrs by hunger, by thirst, and by pestilence, and by the swords of

savages, while they vainly strove to defend a barren desert, valuable

only in the eyes of superstition. Our Order soon adopted bolder and

wider views, and found out a better indemnification for our sacrifices.

Our immense possessions in every kingdom of Europe, our high military

fame, which brings within our circle the flower of chivalry from every

Christian clime--these are dedicated to ends of which our pious founders

little dreamed, and which are equally concealed from such weak spirits

as embrace our Order on the ancient principles, and whose superstition

makes them our passive tools. But I will not further withdraw the veil

of our mysteries. That bugle-sound announces something which may require

my presence. Think on what I have said.--Farewell!--I do not say forgive

me the violence I have threatened, for it was necessary to the display

of thy character. Gold can be only known by the application of the

touchstone. I will soon return, and hold further conference with thee."