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"
What
dost
thou
see
,
Rebecca
?
"
again
demanded
the
wounded
knight
.
"
Nothing
but
the
cloud
of
arrows
flying
so
thick
as
to
dazzle
mine
eyes
,
and
to
hide
the
bowmen
who
shoot
them
.
"
"
That
can
not
endure
,
"
said
Ivanhoe
;
"
if
they
press
not
right
on
to
carry
the
castle
by
pure
force
of
arms
,
the
archery
may
avail
but
little
against
stone
walls
and
bulwarks
.
Look
for
the
Knight
of
the
Fetterlock
,
fair
Rebecca
,
and
see
how
he
bears
himself
;
for
as
the
leader
is
,
so
will
his
followers
be
.
"
"
I
see
him
not
,
"
said
Rebecca
.
"
Foul
craven
!
"
exclaimed
Ivanhoe
;
"
does
he
blench
from
the
helm
when
the
wind
blows
highest
?
"
"
He
blenches
not
!
he
blenches
not
!
"
said
Rebecca
,
"
I
see
him
now
;
he
leads
a
body
of
men
close
under
the
outer
barrier
of
the
barbican
.
--
They
pull
down
the
piles
and
palisades
;
they
hew
down
the
barriers
with
axes
.
--
His
high
black
plume
floats
abroad
over
the
throng
,
like
a
raven
over
the
field
of
the
slain
.
--
They
have
made
a
breach
in
the
barriers
--
they
rush
in
--
they
are
thrust
back
!
--
Front-de-Boeuf
heads
the
defenders
;
I
see
his
gigantic
form
above
the
press
.
They
throng
again
to
the
breach
,
and
the
pass
is
disputed
hand
to
hand
,
and
man
to
man
.
God
of
Jacob
!
it
is
the
meeting
of
two
fierce
tides
--
the
conflict
of
two
oceans
moved
by
adverse
winds
!
"
She
turned
her
head
from
the
lattice
,
as
if
unable
longer
to
endure
a
sight
so
terrible
.
"
Look
forth
again
,
Rebecca
,
"
said
Ivanhoe
,
mistaking
the
cause
of
her
retiring
;
"
the
archery
must
in
some
degree
have
ceased
,
since
they
are
now
fighting
hand
to
hand
.
--
Look
again
,
there
is
now
less
danger
.
"
Rebecca
again
looked
forth
,
and
almost
immediately
exclaimed
,
"
Holy
prophets
of
the
law
!
Front-de-Boeuf
and
the
Black
Knight
fight
hand
to
hand
on
the
breach
,
amid
the
roar
of
their
followers
,
who
watch
the
progress
of
the
strife
--
Heaven
strike
with
the
cause
of
the
oppressed
and
of
the
captive
!
"
She
then
uttered
a
loud
shriek
,
and
exclaimed
,
"
He
is
down
!
--
he
is
down
!
"
