"Wouldst like any refreshment, friend?" inquired a youth in a
sad-coloured tunic and blue vest, over which fell a plain collar of the
finest Valenciennes' lace, so as to cover his shoulders. "And yet,"
continued the malapert, "methinks there is nothing to offer thee but
some ham, or preserved pigs' tongues, which, of course, thou tastest not
of."
"No, I humbly thank ye, young sir," replied Robin; "I do not need the
pigs' tongues, having tasted of thine."
"What mean you by that, Jew dog!" said the boy fiercely, laying his hand
on his sword.
"Nothing, fair gentleman, except it be that thine, though well
preserved, would fain take up the business of thy white teeth."
"How, knave?"
"Become biting," replied Robin, bowing.
"Ah, Morrison! the Jew is too much for ye," said another youth, who was
just roused from a half slumber in a high-backed chair.--"Where got ye
yer wit?"
"Where you did not get yours, under favour," was Robin's ready reply.
"And where was that?"
"From nature; too common a person for so gay a young gentleman to be
beholden to," he retorted, bowing again with even a greater show of
humility than before.
At this reply, Sir John Berkstead, formerly a goldsmith in the Strand,
but gradually raised to the dignity of chief steward of Oliver's
household, approached Robin with his usual shuffling gait, and said,-"Hey! young gentlemen--hey! young gentlemen, what foolish jesting is
this? what mean ye? It is his Highness's pleasure to receive the master,
and what for do ye treat the man with indignity? My worthy Samuel," he
looked closer--"but it is not Samuel," he continued, peering curiously
at Robin, "it is not Samuel. What ho! Gracious Meanwell! did this man
enter with the learned Manasseh Ben Israel?"
"Yes, please ye, Sir John," replied the page, humbly.
"Indeed!" he exclaimed, surveying Robin attentively. "But where is the
Rabbi's usual attendant, whom I have before seen?"
"He is sick even unto death, unless it please the God of Abraham to work
a miracle in his favour," replied Robin: thinking to himself, "he
remembers enough, at least, of his old trade to know all is not gold
that glitters."
Sir John Berkstead withdrew, only observing to the page, who stood back,
boy-like, longing for any frolic likely to relieve the monotony of so
dull a court, especially at midnight, "See ye do not treat him
uncourteously. The Rabbi has always been permitted to bring his
attendant, almost to the anteroom: a favour seldom granted--but his
Highness is gracious in remembering that his bodily infirmities need
support. So see that he is treated with all courtesy, for his Highness
is wishful that Christian toleration be exercised towards this and all
other Jews."