  TIME: A week later The fore-court of the House of Rimmon. At the back the broad steps and double doors of the shrine: above them the tower of the god, its summit invisible. Enter various groups of citizens, talking, laughing, shouting: RAKHAZ, HAZAEL, SHUMAKIM and others. FIRST CITIZEN: Great news, glorious news, the Assyrians are beaten! SECOND CITIZEN: Naaman is returning, crowned with victory. Glory to our noble captain! THIRD CITIZEN: No, he is killed. I had it from one of the camp-followers who saw him fall at the head of the battle. They are bringing his body to bury it with honour. O sorrowful victory! RAKHAZ; Peace, my good fellows, you are ignorant, you have not been rightly informed, I will misinform you. The accounts of Naaman's death are overdrawn. He was killed, but his life has been preserved. One of his wounds was mortal, but the other three were curable, and by these the physicians have saved him. SHUMAKIM: [Balancing himself before RAKHAZ in pretended admiration.] O wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, and three curable, therefore he must recover as it were, by three to one. Rakhaz, do you know that you are a marvelous man? RAKHAZ: Yes, I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge. SHUMAKIM: Too modest, for in knowing this you know what is unknown to any other in Damascus! [Enter, from the right, SABALLIDIN in armour: from the left, TSARPI with her attendants, among whom is RUAHMAH.] HAZAEL: Here is Saballidin, we'll question him; He was enflamed by Naaman's fiery words, And rode with him to battle. Good, my lord, We hail you as a herald of the fight You helped to win. Give us authentic news Of your great general! Is he safe and well? When will he come? Or will he come at all? [All gather around him, listening eagerly.] SABALLIDIN: He comes but now, returning from the field Where he hath gained a crown of deathless fame! Three times he led the charge; three times he fell Wounded, and the Assyrians beat us back. Yet every wound was but a spur to urge His valour onward. In the last attack He rode before us as the crested wave That heads the flood; and lo, our enemies Were broken like a dam of river-reeds, Burst by the torrent, scattered, swept away! But look! the Assyrian king in wavering flight Is lodged like driftwood on a little hill, Encircled by his guard, and stands at bay. Then Naaman, followed hotly by a score Of whirlwind riders, hammers through the hedge Of spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke: "Take back this gift," he cries; and shatters it On Shalmaneser's helmet. So the fight Dissolves in universal rout: the king, His chariots and his horsemen melt away; Our captain stands the master of the field, And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings, First to the king, report of this great triumph. [Shouts of joy and applause.] RUAHMAH: [Coming close to SABALLIDIN,] But what of him who won it? Fares he well? My mistress would receive some word of him. SABALLIDIN: Hath she not heard? RUAHMAH: But one brief message came: A tablet saying, "We have fought and conquered," No word of his own person. Fares he well? SABALLIDIN: Alas, most ill! For he is like a man Consumed by some strange sickness: wasted, wan,-- His eyes are dimmed so that scarce can see; His ears are dulled; his fearless face is pale As one who walks to meet a certain doom Yet will not flinch. It is most pitiful,-- But you shall see. RUAHMAH: Yea, we shall see a man Who took upon himself his country's burden, dared To hazard all to save the poor and helpless; A man who bears the wrath of evil powers Unknown, and pays the hero's sacrifice. [Enter BENHADAD with courtiers.] BENHADAD: Where is my faithful servant Naaman, The captain of my host? SABALLIDIN: My lord, he comes. [Trumpet sounds. Enter company of soldiers in armour. Then four soldiers bearing captured standards of Asshur. NAAMAN follows, very pale, armour dinted and stained; he is blind, and guides himself by cords from the standards on each side, but walks firmly. The doors of the temple open slightly, and REZON appears at the top of the steps. NAAMAN lets the cords fall, and gropes his way for a few paces.] NAAMAN: [Kneeling] Where is my King? Master, the bearer of thy sword returns. The golden yoke thou gavest me I broke On him who sent it. Asshur's Bull hath fled Dehorned. The standards of his host are thine! Damascus is all thine, at peace, and free! BENHADAD: [Holding out his arms.] Thou art a mighty man of valour! Come, And let me fold thy courage to my heart. REZON: [Lifting his rod.] Forbear, O King! Stand back from him, all men! By the great name of Rimmon I proclaim This man a leper! On his brow I see The death-white seal, the finger-print of doom! That tiny spot will spread, eating his flesh, Gnawing his fingers bone from bone, until The impious heart that dared defy the gods Dissolves in the slow death which now begins. Unclean! unclean! Henceforward he is dead: No human hand shall touch him, and no home Of men shall give him shelter. He shall walk Only with corpses of the selfsame death Down the long path to a forgotten tomb. Avoid, depart, I do adjure you all, Leave him to god,--the leper Naaman! [All shrink back horrified. REZON retires into the temple; the crowd melts away, wailing: TSARPI is among the first to go, followed by her attendants, except RUAHMAH, who crouches, with her face covered, not far from NAAMAN.] BENHADAD: [Lingering and turning back.] Alas, my son! O Naaman, my son! Why did I let thee go? Thou art cast out Irrevocably from the city's life Which thou hast saved. Who can resist the gods? I must obey the law, and touch thy hand Never again. Yet none shall take from thee Thy glorious title, captain of my host! I will provide for thee, and thou shalt dwell With guards of honour in a house of mine Always. Damascus never shall forget What thou hast done! O miserable words Of crowned impotence! O mockery of power Given to kings, who cannot even defend Their dearest from the secret wrath of heaven! Naaman, my son, my son! [Exit.] NAAMAN: [Slowly, passing his hand over his eyes, and looking up.] Am I alone With thee, inexorable one, whose pride Offended takes this horrible revenge? I must submit my mortal flesh to thee, Almighty, but I will not call thee god! Yet thou hast found the way to wound my soul Most deeply through the flesh; and I must find The way to let my wounded soul escape! [Drawing his sword.] Come, my last friend, thou art more merciful Than Rimmon. Why should I endure the doom He sends me? Irretrievably cut off From all dear intercourse of human love, From all the tender touch of human hands, From all brave comradeship with brother-men, With eyes that see no faces through this dark, With ears that hear all voices far away, Why should I cling to misery, and grope My long, long way from pain to pain, alone? RUAHMAH: [At his feet.] Nay, not alone, dear lord, for I am here; And I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee! NAAMAN: What voice is that? The silence of my tomb Is broken by a ray of music,--whose? RUAHMAH: [Rising.] The one who loves thee best in all the world. NAAMAN: Why that should be,--O dare I dream it true? Tsarpi, my wife? Have I misjudged thy heart As cold and proud? How nobly thou forgivest! Thou com'st to hold me from the last disgrace,-- The coward's flight into the dark. Go back Unstained, my sword! Life is endurable While there is one alive on earth who loves us, RUAHMAH: My lord,--my lord,--O listen! You have erred,-- You do mistake me now,--this dream-- NAAMAN: Ah, wake me not! For I can conquer death Dreaming this dream. Let me at last believe, Though gods are cruel, a woman can be kind. Grant me but this! For see,--I ask so little,-- Only to know that thou art faithful,-- Only to lean upon the thought that thou, My wife, art near me, though I touch thee not,-- O this will hold me up, though it be given From pity more than love. RUAHMAH: [Trembling, and speaking slowly.] Not so, my lord! My pity is a stream; my pride of thee Is like the sea that doth engulf the stream; My love for thee is like the sovran moon That rules the sea. The tides that fill my soul Flow unto thee and follow after thee; And where thou goest I will go; and where Thou diest I will die,--in the same hour. [She lays her hand on his arm. He draws back.] NAAMAN: O touch me not! Thou shall not share my doom. RUAHMAH: Entreat me not to go. I will obey In all but this; but rob me not of this,-- The only boon that makes life worth the living,-- To walk beside thee day by day, and keep Thy foot from stumbling; to prepare thy food When thou art hungry, music for thy rest, And cheerful words to comfort thy black hour; And so to lead thee ever on, and on, Through darkness, till we find the door of hope. NAAMAN: What word is that? The leper has no hope. RUAHMAH: Dear lord, the mark upon thy brow is yet No broader than my little finger-nail. Thy force is not abated, and thy step Is firm. Wilt thou surrender to the enemy Before thy strength is touched? Why, let me put A drop of courage from my breast in thine. There is a hope for thee. The captive maid Of Israel who dwelt within thy house Knew of a god very compassionate, Long-suffering, slow to anger, one who heals The sick, hath pity on the fatherless, And saves the poor and him who has no helper. His prophet dwells nigh to Samaria; And I have heard that he hath brought the dead To life again. We'll go to him. The King, If I beseech him, will appoint a guard Of thine own soldiers and Saballidin, Thy friend, to convoy us upon our journey. He'll give us royal letters to the king Of Israel to make our welcome sure; And we will take the open road, beneath The open sky, to-morrow, and go on Together till we find the door of hope. Come, come with me! [She grasps his hand.] NAAMAN: [Drawing back.] Thou must not touch me! RUAHMAH: [Unclasping her girdle and putting the end in hand.] Take my girdle, then! NAAMAN: [Kissing the clasp of the girdle.] I do begin to think there is a God, Since love on earth can work such miracles! CURTAIN. |
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