The Jew's dress, which appeared to have suffered considerably from the
storm, was a plain russet cloak of many folds, covering a dark purple
tunic. He had large boots lined with fur, and a belt around his
waist, which sustained a small knife, together with a case for writing
materials, but no weapon. He wore a high square yellow cap of a peculiar
fashion, assigned to his nation to distinguish them from Christians, and
which he doffed with great humility at the door of the hall.
The reception of this person in the hall of Cedric the Saxon, was such
as might have satisfied the most prejudiced enemy of the tribes of
Israel. Cedric himself coldly nodded in answer to the Jew's repeated
salutations, and signed to him to take place at the lower end of the
table, where, however, no one offered to make room for him. On the
contrary, as he passed along the file, casting a timid supplicating
glance, and turning towards each of those who occupied the lower end of
the board, the Saxon domestics squared their shoulders, and continued
to devour their supper with great perseverance, paying not the least
attention to the wants of the new guest. The attendants of the Abbot
crossed themselves, with looks of pious horror, and the very heathen
Saracens, as Isaac drew near them, curled up their whiskers with
indignation, and laid their hands on their poniards, as if ready to
rid themselves by the most desperate means from the apprehended
contamination of his nearer approach.
Probably the same motives which induced Cedric to open his hall to this
son of a rejected people, would have made him insist on his attendants
receiving Isaac with more courtesy. But the Abbot had, at this moment,
engaged him in a most interesting discussion on the breed and character
of his favourite hounds, which he would not have interrupted for matters
of much greater importance than that of a Jew going to bed supperless.
While Isaac thus stood an outcast in the present society, like his
people among the nations, looking in vain for welcome or resting
place, the pilgrim who sat by the chimney took compassion upon him, and
resigned his seat, saying briefly, "Old man, my garments are dried,
my hunger is appeased, thou art both wet and fasting." So saying, he
gathered together, and brought to a flame, the decaying brands which
lay scattered on the ample hearth; took from the larger board a mess of
pottage and seethed kid, placed it upon the small table at which he had
himself supped, and, without waiting the Jew's thanks, went to the
other side of the hall;--whether from unwillingness to hold more close
communication with the object of his benevolence, or from a wish to draw
near to the upper end of the table, seemed uncertain.