Section 186. REBECCA DESCRIBES THE SIEGE OF TORQUILSTONE TO THE WOUNDED IVANHOE. IV.
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“Think not of that (S. 4, N. 5, B),” said Ivanhoe; “this is[1] no time for such thoughts. Who yield? Who push their way[2]?”
“The ladders are thrown down,” replied Rebecca shuddering; “the soldiers lie grovelling[3] under them like crushed reptiles. The besieged have the better[4].”
“No!” exclaimed Rebecca, “they bear[7] themselves right yeomanly—the Black Knight approaches the postern with his huge axe—the thundering blows which he deals[8] you may[9] hear them above all the din[10] and shouts of the battle.—Stones and beams are hailed down[11] on the bold champion—he regards them no more than if they were[12] thistle-down[13] or feathers!”
“By Saint George,” said Ivanhoe, raising (S. 111, N. 6) himself joyfully on his couch, “methought[14] there was (S. 82, N. 7, and App. § 33) but one man in England that[15] might do such a deed!”
“The postern gate shakes[16],” continued Rebecca; “it crashes—it is splintered by[17] his blows—they rush in—the outwork is won[18].—O God, they hurl the defenders from the battlements—they throw them into the moat.—O men, if ye[19] be indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer!”
“The bridge—the bridge which communicates with the castle—have they won[20] that pass?” exclaimed Ivanhoe.
“No,” replied Rebecca, “the Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed[21]—few[22] of the defenders escaped with him into the castle—the shrieks and cries[23] which you hear tell the fate of the others.—Alas! I see it is still more difficult to look upon[24] victory (S. 3, N. 2) than upon battle.”—Sir Walter Scott, “Ivanhoe.”