TIME: A month later: dawn

SCENE I

NAAMAN'S tent, on high ground among the mountains near Samaria: the city below. In the distance, a wide and splendid landscape. SABALLIDIN and soldiers on guard below the tent. Enter RUAHMAH in hunter's dress, with a lyre slung from her shoulder.

RUAHMAH:

Peace and good health to you, Saballidin.

Good morrow to you all. How fares my lord?

SABALLIDIN:

The curtains of his tent are folded still:

They have not moved since we returned, last night,

And told him what befell us in the city.

RUAHMAH:

Told him! Why did you make report to him.

And not to me? Am I not captain here,

Intrusted by the King's command with care

Of Naaman's life, until he is restored?

'Tis mine to know the first of good or ill

In this adventure: mine to shield his heart

From every arrow of adversity.

What have you told him? Speak!

SABALLIDIN:

Lady, we feared

To bring our news to you. For when the king

Of Israel had read our monarch's letter,

He rent his clothes, and cried, "Am I a god,

To kill and make alive, that I should heal

A leper? Ye have come with false pretence,

Damascus seeks a quarrel with me. Go!"

But when we told our lord, he closed his tent,

And there remains enfolded in his grief.

I trust he sleeps; 't were kind to let him sleep!

For now he doth forget his misery,

And all the burden of his hopeless woe

Is lifted from him by the gentle hand

Of slumber. Oh, to those bereft of hope

Sleep is the only blessing left,--the last

Asylum of the weary, the one sign

Of pity from impenetrable heaven.

Waking is strife: sleep is the truce of God!

Ah, lady, wake him not. The day will be

Full long for him to suffer, and for us

To turn our disappointed faces home

On the long road by which we must return.

RUAHMAH:

Return! Who gave you that command? Not I!

The King made me the leader of this quest,

And bound you all to follow me, because

He knew I never would return without

The thing for which he sent us. I'll go on

Day after day, unto the uttermost parts

Of earth, if need be, and beyond the gates

Of morning, till I find that which I seek,--

New life for Naaman. Are ye ashamed

To have a woman lead you? Then go back

And tell the King, "This huntress went too far

For us to follow; she pursues the trail

Of hope alone, refusing to forsake

The quarry: we grew weary of the chase;

And so we left her and retraced our steps,

Like faithless hounds, to sleep beside the fire."

Did Naaman forsake his soldiers thus

When you went forth to hunt the Assyrian Bull?

Your manly courage is less durable

Than woman's love, it seems. Go, if you will,--

Who bids me now farewell?

SOLDIERS:

Not I, not I!

SABALLIDIN:

Lady, lead on, we'll follow you for ever!

RUAHMAH:

Why, now you speak like men! Brought you no word

Out of Samaria, except that cry

Of impotence and fear from Israel's king?

SABALLIDIN:

I do remember while he spoke with us

A rustic messenger came in, and cried

"Elisha saith, let Naaman come to me

At Dothan, he shall surely know there is

A God in Israel."

RUAHMAH:

What said the King?

SABALLIDIN:

He only shouted "Go!" more wildly yet,

And rent his clothes again, as if he were

Half-maddened by a coward's fear, and thought

Only of how he might be rid of us.

What comfort could there be for him, what hope

For us, in the rude prophet's misty word?

RUAHMAH:

It is the very word for which I prayed!

My trust was not in princes; for the crown,

The sceptre, and the purple robe are not

Significant of vital power. The man

Who saves his brother-men is he who lives

His life with Nature, takes deep hold on truth,

And trusts in God. A prophet's word is more

Than all the kings on earth can speak. How far

Is Dothan?

SOLDIER:

Lady, 'tis but three hours' ride

Along the valley northward.

RUAHMAH:

Near! so near?

I had not thought to end my task so soon!

Prepare yourselves with speed to take the road.

I will awake my lord.

[Exeunt all but SABALLIDIN and RUAHMAH. She goes toward the tent.]

SABALLIDIN;

Ruahmah, stay! [She turns back.]

I've been your servant in this doubtful quest,

Obedient, faithful, loyal to your will,--

What have I earned by this?

RUAHMAH:

The gratitude

Of him we both desire to serve: your friend,--

My master and my lord.

SABALLIDIN:

No more than this?

RUAHMAH:

Yes, if you will, take all the thanks my hands

Can hold, my lips can speak.

SABALLIDIN:

I would have more.

RUAHMAH:

My friend, there's nothing more to give to you,

My service to my lord is absolute.

There's not a drop of blood within my veins

But quickens at the very thought of him;

And not a dream of mine but he doth stand

Within its heart and make it bright. No man

To me is other than his friend or foe.

You are his friend, and I believe you true!

SABALLIDIN:

I have been true to him,--now, I am true

To you.

RUAHMAH:

And therefore doubly true to him!

O let us match our loyalties, and strive

Between us who shall win the higher crown!

Men boast them of a friendship stronger far

Than love of woman. Prove it! I'll not boast,

But I'll contend with you on equal terms

In this brave race: and if you win the prize

I'll hold you next to him: and if I win

He'll hold you next to me; and either way

We'll not be far apart. Do you accept

My challenge?

SABALLIDIN:

Yes! For you enforce my heart

By honour to resign its great desire,

And love itself to offer sacrifice

Of all disloyal dreams on its own altar.

Yet love remains; therefore I pray you, think

How surely you must lose in our contention.

For I am known to Naaman: but you

He blindly takes for Tsarpi. 'Tis to her

He gives his gratitude: the praise you win

Endears her name.

RUAHMAH:

Her name? Why, what is that?

A name is but an empty shell, a mask

That does not change the features of the face

Beneath it. Can a name rejoice, or weep,

Or hope? Can it be moved by tenderness

To daily services of love, or feel the warmth

Of dear companionship? How many things

We call by names that have no meaning: kings

That cannot rule; and gods that are not good;

And wives that do not love! It matters not

What syllables he utters when he calls,

'Tis I who come,--'tis I who minister

Unto my lord, and mine the living heart

That feels the comfort of his confidence,

The thrill of gladness when he speaks to me,--

I do not hear the name!

SABALLIDIN:

And yet, be sure

There's danger in this error,--and no gain!

RUAHMAH:

I seek no gain; I only tread the path

Marked for me daily by the hand of love.

And if his blindness spared my lord one pang

Of sorrow in his black, forsaken hour,--

And if this error makes his burdened heart

More quiet, and his shadowed way less dark,

Whom do I rob? Not her who chose to stay

At ease in Rimmon's House! Surely not him!

Only myself? And that enriches me.

Why trouble we the master? Let it go,--

To-morrow he must know the truth,--and then

He shall dispose of me e'en as he will!

SABALLIDIN:

To-morrow?

RUAHMAH:

Yes, for I will tarry here,

While you conduct him to Elisha's house

To find the promised healing. I forebode

A sudden danger from the craven king

Of Israel, or else a secret ambush

From those who hate us in Damascus. Go,

But leave me twenty men: this mountain-pass

Protects the road behind you. Make my lord

Obey the prophet's word, whatever he commands,

And come again in peace. Farewell!

[Exit SABALLIDIN. RUAHMAH goes toward the tent, then pauses and turns back. She takes her lyre and sings.]

SONG.

Above the edge of dark appear the lances of the sun;

Along the mountain-ridges clear his rosy heralds run;

The vapours down the valley go

Like broken armies, dark and low.

Look up, my heart, from every hill

In folds of rose and daffodil

The sunrise banners flow.

O fly away on silent wing, ye boding owls of night!

O welcome little birds that sing the coming-in of light!

For new, and new, and ever-new,

The golden bud within the blue;

And every morning seems to say:

"There's something happy on the way,

And God sends love to you!"

NAAMAN: [Appearing at the entrance of his tent.]

O let me ever wake to music! For the soul

Returns most gently then, and finds its way

By the soft, winding clue of melody,

Out of the dusky labyrinth of sleep,

Into the light. My body feels the sun

Though I behold naught that his rays reveal.

Come, thou who art my daydawn and my sight,

Sweet eyes, come close, and make the sunrise mine!

RUAHMAH: [Coming near.]

A fairer day, dear lord, was never born

In Paradise! The sapphire cup of heaven

Is filled with golden wine: the earth, adorned

With jewel-drops of dew, unveils her face

A joyful bride, in welcome to her king.

And look! He leaps upon the Eastern hills

All ruddy fire, and claims her with a kiss.

Yonder the snowy peaks of Hermon float

Unmoving as a wind-dropt cloud. The gulf

Of Jordan, filled with violet haze, conceals

The rivers winding trail with wreaths of mist.

Below us, marble-crowned Samaria thrones

Upon her emerald hill amid the Vale

Of Barley, while the plains to northward change

Their colour like the shimmering necks of doves.

The lark springs up, with morning on her wings,

To climb her singing stairway in the blue,

And all the fields are sprinkled with her joy!

NAAMAN:

Thy voice is magical: thy words are visions!

I must content myself with them, for now

My only hope is lost: Samaria's king

Rejects our monarch's message,--hast thou heard?

"Am I a god that I should cure a leper?"

He sends me home unhealed, with angry words,

Back to Damascus and the lingering death.

RUAHMAH:

What matter where he sends? No god is he

To slay or make alive. Elisha bids

You come to him at Dothan, there to learn

There is a God in Israel.

NAAMAN:

I fear

That I am grown mistrustful of all gods;

Their secret counsels are implacable.

RUAHMAH:

Fear not! There's One who rules in righteousness

High over all.

NAAMAN:

What knowest thou of Him?

RUAHMAH:

Oh, I have heard,--the maid of Israel,--

Rememberest thou? She often said her God

Was merciful and kind, and slow to wrath,

And plenteous in forgiveness, pitying us

Like as a father pitieth his children.

NAAMAN:

If there were such a God, I'd worship Him

For ever!

RUAHMAH:

Then make haste to hear the word

His prophet promises to speak to thee!

Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt lose

This curse that burdens thee. This tiny spot

Of white that mars the beauty of thy brow

Shall melt like snow; thine eyes be filled with light.

Thou wilt not need my leading any more,--

Nor me,--for thou wilt see me, all unveiled,--

I tremble at the thought.

NAAMAN:

Why, what is this?

Why shouldst thou tremble? Art thou not mine own?

RUAHMAH: [Turning to him.]

Surely I am! But take me, take me now!

For I belong to thee in body and soul;

The very pulses of my heart are thine.

Wilt thou not feel how tenderly they beat?

Wilt thou not lie like myrrh between my breasts

And satisfy thy lonely lips with love?

Thou art opprest, and I would comfort thee

While yet thy sorrow weighs upon thy life.

To-morrow? No, to-day! The crown of love

Is sacrifice; I have not given thee

Enough! Ah, fold me in thine arms,--take all!

[She takes his hands and puts them around her neck; he holds her from him, with one hand on her shoulder, the other behind her head.]

NAAMAN:

Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss,--

Too dear for me to stain thy purity,

Or leave one touch upon thee to regret!

How should I take a gift may bankrupt thee,

Or drain the fragrant chalice of thy love

With lips that may be fatal? Tempt me not

To sweet dishonour; strengthen me to wait

Until thy prophecy is all fulfilled,

And I can claim thee with a joyful heart.

RUAHMAH: [Turning away.]

Thou wilt not need me then,--and I shall be

No more than the faint echo of a song

Heard half asleep. We shall go back to where

We stood before this journey.

NAAMAN:

Never again!

For thou art changed by some deep miracle.

The flower of womanhood hath bloomed in thee,--

Art thou not changed?

RUAHMAH:

Yea, I am changed,--and changed

Again,--bewildered,--till there's nothing clear

To me but this: I am the instrument

In an Almighty hand to rescue thee

From death. This will I do,--and afterward--

[A trumpet is blown, without.]

Hearken, the trumpet sounds, the chariot waits.

Away, dear lord, follow the road to light!

SCENE II. [*]

[*] Note that this scene is not intended to be put upon the stage, the effect of the action upon the drama being given at the beginning of Act IV.

The house of Elisha, upon a terraced hillside. A low stone cottage with vine-trellises and flowers; a flight of steps, at the foot of which is NAAMAN'S chariot. He is standing in it; SABALLIDIN beside it. Two soldiers come down the steps.

FIRST SOLDIER:

We have delivered my lord's greeting and his message.

SECOND SOLDIER:

Yes, and near lost our noses in the doing of it! For the servant slammed the door in our faces. A most unmannerly reception!