As he spoke he bent his face within his bosom, which he covered, as in profound meditation, with the folds of his long robe.
Scarcely half the brief time allowed him had expired, when he again lifted his countenance and, as he did so, flung back his garment.
The Dominican uttered a loud cry; the guards started back in awe.

A wonderful change had come over the intended victim; he seemed to stand amongst them literally--wrapt in fire; flames burst from his lip, and played with his long locks, as, catching the glowing hue, they curled over his shoulders like serpents of burning light: blood-red were his breast and limbs, his haughty crest, and his outstretched arm; and as for a single moment, he met the shuddering eyes of his judges, he seemed, indeed, to verify all the superstitions of the time--no longer the trembling captive but the mighty demon or the terrible magician.
The Dominican was the first to recover his self-possession.

"Seize the enchanter!" he exclaimed; but no man stirred.

Ere yet the exclamation had died on his lip, Almamen took from his breast a phial, and dashed it on the ground--it broke into a thousand shivers: a mist rose over the apartment--it spread, thickened, darkened, as a sudden night; the lamps could not pierce it.

The luminous form of the Hebrew grew dull and dim, until it vanished in the shade.