"Holy Virgin," answered the Prior, turning up his eyes in horror, "a Jewess!—We should deserve to be stoned out of the lists; and I am not yet old enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my patron saint, that she is far inferior to the lovely Saxon, Rowena."
"Saxon or Jew," answered the Prince, "Saxon or Jew, dog or hog, what matters it? I say, name Rebecca, were it only to mortify the Saxon churls."
A murmur arose even among his own immediate attendants.
"This passes a jest, my lord," said Bracy; "no knight here will lay lance in rest if such an insult is attempted."
"It is the mere wantonness of insult," said one of the oldest of Prince John's followers, Waldemar Fitzurse; "and if your grace attempt it, cannot but prove ruinous to your projects."
"I entertained you, sir," said John, reining up his palfrey haughtily, "for my follower, but not for my counsellor."
