Part 18

RUAHMAH: Why, then, be 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 lute 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 river's 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 Forever!

RUAHMAH: Then make haste to hear the word His prophet promises to speak to thee! Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt find Healing and peace. The light shall fill thine eyes. 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 and speaking in broken words.] I am,--thy handmaid,--all and only thine,-- The very pulses of my heart are thine! Feel how they throb to comfort thee to-day-- To-day! Because it is thy time of trouble.

[She takes his hand and puts it to her forehead and her lips, but before she can lay it upon her heart, he draws away from her.]

NAAMAN: Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss,-- 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 [3]

_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!

FIRST SOLDIER: But I take that as a good omen. It is a mark of holy men to keep ill-conditioned servants. Look, the door opens, the prophet is coming.

SECOND SOLDIER: No, by my head, it is that notable mark of his master's holiness, that same lantern-jawed lout of a servant.

[GEHAZI loiters down the steps and comes to NAAMAN with a slight obeisance.]

GEHAZI: My master, the prophet of Israel, sends word to Naaman the Syrian,--are you he?---"Go wash in Jordan seven times and be healed."

[GEHAZI turns and goes slowly up the steps.]

NAAMAN: What insolence is this? Am I a man To be put off with surly messengers? Has not Damascus rivers more renowned Than this rude muddy Jordan? Crystal streams, Abana! Pharpar! flowing smoothly through A paradise of roses? Might I not Have bathed in them and been restored at ease? Come up, Saballidin, and guide me home!

SABALLIDIN: Bethink thee, master, shall we lose our quest Because a servant is uncouth? The road That seeks the mountain leads us through the vale. The prophet's word is friendly after all; For had it been some mighty task he set, Thou wouldst perform it. How much rather then This easy one? Hast thou not promised her Who waits for thy return? Wilt thou go back To her unhealed?

NAAMAN: No! not for all my pride! I'll make myself most humble for her sake, And stoop to anything that gives me hope Of having her. Make haste, Saballidin, Bring me to Jordan. I will cast myself Into that river's turbulent embrace A hundred times, until I save my life Or lose it!

[Exeunt. The light fades: musical interlude. The light increases again with ruddy sunset shining on the door of ELISHA'S house. The prophet appears and looks off, shading his eyes with his hand as he descends the steps. Trumpet blows,--NAAMAN'S call;--sound of horses galloping and men shouting. NAAMAN enters joyously, followed by SABALLIDIN and soldiers, with gifts.]

NAAMAN: Behold a man delivered from the grave By thee! I rose from Jordan's waves restored To youth and vigour, as the eagle mounts Upon the sunbeam and renews his strength! O mighty prophet deign to take from me These gifts too poor to speak my gratitude; Silver and gold and jewels, damask robes,--

ELISHA: [Interrupting.] As thy soul liveth I will not receive A gift from thee, my son! Give all to Him Whose mercy hath redeemed thee from thy plague.

NAAMAN: He is the only God! I worship Him! Grant me a portion of the blessed soil Of this most favoured land where I have found His mercy; in Damascus will I build An altar to His name, and praise Him there Morning and night. There is no other God In all the world.

ELISHA: Thou needst not This load of earth to build a shrine for Him; Yet take it if thou wilt. But be assured God's altar is in every loyal heart, And every flame of love that kindles there Ascends to Him and brightens with His praise. There is no other God! But evil Powers Make war against Him in the darkened world; And many temples have been built to them.

NAAMAN: I know them well! Yet when my master goes To worship in the House of Rimmon, I Must enter with him; for he trusts me, leans Upon my hand; and when he bows himself I cannot help but make obeisance too,-- But not to Rimmon! To my country's King I'll bow in love and honour. Will the Lord Pardon thy servant in this thing?

ELISHA: My son, Peace has been granted thee. 'Tis thine to find The only way to keep it. Go in peace.

NAAMAN: Thou hast not answered me,--may I bow down?

ELISHA: The answer must be thine. The heart that knows The perfect peace of gratitude and love, Walks in the light and needs no other rule. When next thou comest into Rimmon's House, Thy heart will tell thee how to go in peace.

_CURTAIN._

[3] 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.

ACT IV

SCENE I

_The interior of NAAMAN'S tent, at night. RUAHMAH alone, sleeping on the ground. A vision appears to her through the curtains of the tent: ELISHA standing on the hillside at Dothan: NAAMAN, restored to sight, comes in and kneels before him. ELISHA blesses him, and he goes out rejoicing. The vision of the prophet turns to RUAHMAH and lifts his hand in warning._

ELISHA: Daughter of Israel, what dost thou here? Thy prayer is granted. Naaman is healed: Mar not true service with a selfish thought. Nothing remains for thee to do, except Give thanks, and go whither the Lord commands. Obey,--obey! Ere Naaman returns Thou must depart to thine own house in Shechem.

[The vision vanishes.]

RUAHMAH: [Waking and rising slowly.] A dream, a dream, a messenger of God! O dear and dreadful vision, art thou true? Then am I glad with all my broken heart. Nothing remains,--nothing remains but this,-- Give thanks, obey, depart,--and so I do. Farewell, my master's sword! Farewell to you, My amulet! I lay you on the hilt His hand shall clasp again: bid him farewell For me, since I must look upon his face No more for ever!--Hark, what sound was that?

[Enter soldier hurriedly.]

SOLDIER: Mistress, an arméd troop, footmen and horse, Mounting the hill!

RUAHMAH: My lord returns in triumph.

SOLDIER: Not so, for these are enemies; they march In haste and silence, answering not our cries.

RUAHMAH: Our enemies? Then hold your ground,--on guard! Fight! fight! Defend the pass, and drive them down.

[Exit soldier. RUAHMAH draws NAAMAN'S sword from the scabbard and hurries out of the tent. Confused noise of fighting outside. Three or four soldiers are driven in by a troop of men in disguise. RUAHMAH follows: she is beaten to her knees, and her sword is broken.]

REZON: [Throwing aside the cloth which covers his face.] Hold her! So, tiger-maid, we've found your lair And trapped you. Where is Naaman, Your master?

RUAHMAH: [Rising, her arms held by two of REZON'S followers.] He is far beyond your reach.

REZON: Brave captain! He has saved himself, the leper, And left you here?

RUAHMAH: The leper is no more.

REZON: What mean you?

RUAHMAH: He has gone to meet his God.

REZON: Dead? Dead? Behold how Rimmon's wrath is swift! Damascus shall be mine; I'll terrify The King with this, and make my terms. But no! False maid, you sweet-faced harlot, you have lied To save him,--speak.

RUAHMAH: I am not what you say, Nor have I lied, nor will I ever speak A word to you, vile servant of a traitor-god.

REZON: Break off this little flute of blasphemy, This ivory neck,--twist it, I say! Give her a swift despatch after her leper! But stay,--if he still lives he'll follow her, And so we may ensnare him. Harm her not! Bind her! Away with her to Rimmon's House! Is all this carrion dead? There's one that moves,-- A spear,--fasten him down! All quiet now? Then back to our Damascus! Rimmon's face Shall be made bright with sacrifice.

[Exeunt, forcing RUAHMAH with them. Musical interlude. A wounded soldier crawls from a dark corner of the tent and finds the chain with NAAMAN'S seal, which has fallen to the ground in the struggle.]

WOUNDED SOLDIER: The signet of my lord, her amulet! Lost, lost! Ah, noble lady,--let me die With this upon my breast.

[The tent is dark. Enter NAAMAN and his company in haste, with torches.]

NAAMAN: What bloody work Is here? God, let me live to punish him Who wrought this horror! Treacherously slain At night, by unknown hands, my brave companions: Tsarpi, my best beloved, light of my soul, Put out in darkness! O my broken lamp Of life, where art thou? Nay, I cannot find her.

WOUNDED SOLDIER: [Raising himself on his arm.] Master!

NAAMAN: [Kneels beside him.] One living? Quick, a torch this way! Lift up his head,--so,--carefully! Courage, my friend, your captain is beside you. Call back your soul and make report to him.

WOUNDED SOLDIER: Hail, captain! O my captain,--here!

NAAMAN: Be patient,--rest in peace,--the fight is done. Nothing remains but render your account.

WOUNDED SOLDIER: They fell upon us suddenly,--we fought Our fiercest,--every man,--our lady fought Fiercer than all. They beat us down,--she's gone. Rezon has carried her away a captive. See,-- Her amulet,--I die for you, my captain.

NAAMAN: [He gently lays the dead soldier on the ground, and rises.] Farewell. This last report was brave; but strange Beyond my thought! How came the High Priest here? And what is this? my chain, my seal! But this Has never been in Tsarpi's hand. I gave This signet to a captive maid one night,-- A maid of Israel. How long ago? Ruahmah was her name,--almost forgotten! So long ago,--how comes this token here? What is this mystery, Saballidin?

SABALLIDIN: Ruahmah is her name who brought you hither.

NAAMAN: Where then is Tsarpi?

SABALLIDIN: In Damascus. She left you when the curse of Rimmon fell,-- Took refuge in his House,--and there she waits Her lord's return,--Rezon's return.

NAAMAN: 'Tis false!

SABALLIDIN: The falsehood is in her. She hath been friend With Rezon in his priestly plot to win Assyria's favour,--friend to his design To sell his country to enrich his temple,-- And friend to him in more,--I will not name it.

NAAMAN: Nor will I credit it. Impossible!

SABALLIDIN: Did she not plead with you against the war, Counsel surrender, seek to break your will?

NAAMAN: She did not love my work, a soldier's task. She never seemed to be at one with me Until I was a leper.

SABALLIDIN: From whose hand Did you receive the sacred cup?

NAAMAN: From hers.

SABALLIDIN: And from that hour the curse began to work.

NAAMAN: But did she not have pity when she saw Me smitten? Did she not beseech the King For letters and a guard to make this journey? Has she not been the fountain of my hope, My comforter and my most faithful guide In this adventure of the dark? All this Is proof of perfect love that would have shared A leper's doom rather than give me up. Can I doubt her who dared to love like this?

SABALLIDIN: O master, doubt her not,--but know her name; Ruahmah! It was she alone who wrought This wondrous work of love. She won the King To furnish forth this company. She led Our march, kept us in heart, fought off despair, Watched over you as if you were her child, Prepared your food, your cup, with her own hands, Sang you asleep at night, awake at dawn,--

NAAMAN: [Interrupting.] Enough! I do remember every hour Of that sweet comradeship! And now her voice Wakens the echoes in my lonely breast. Shall I not see her, thank her, speak her name? Ruahmah! Let me live till I have looked Into her eyes and called her my Ruahmah!

[To his soldiers.]

Away! away! I burn to take the road That leads me back to Rimmon's House,-- But not to bow,--by God, never to bow!

SCENE II

TIME: _Three days later_

_Inner court of the House of Rimmon; a temple with huge pillars at each side. In the right foreground the seat of the King; at the left, of equal height, the seat of the High Priest. In the background a broad flight of steps, rising to a curtain of cloudy gray, embroidered with two gigantic hands holding thunderbolts. The temple is in half darkness at first. Enter KHAMMA and NUBTA, robed as Kharimati, or religious dancers, in gowns of black gauze with yellow embroideries and mantles._

KHAMMA: All is ready for the rites of worship; our lady will play a great part in them. She has put on her Tyrian robes, and all her ornaments.

NUBTA: That is a sure sign of a religious purpose. She is most devout, our lady Tsarpi!

KHAMMA: A favourite of Rimmon, too! The High Priest has assured her of it. He is a great man,--next to the King, now that Naaman is gone.

NUBTA: But if Naaman should come back, healed of the leprosy?

KHAMMA: How can he come back? The Hebrew slave that went away with him, when they caught her, said that he was dead. The High Priest has shut her up in the prison of the temple, accusing her of her master's death.

NUBTA: Yet I think he does not believe it, for I heard him telling our mistress what to do if Naaman should return.

KHAMMA: What, then?

NUBTA: She will claim him as her husband. Was she not wedded to him before the god? That is a sacred bond. Only the High Priest can loose it. She will keep her hold on Naaman for the sake of the House of Rimmon. A wife knows her husband's secrets, she can tell--

[Enter SHUMAKIM, with his flagon, walking unsteadily.]

KHAMMA: Hush! here comes the fool Shumakim. He is never sober.

SHUMAKIM: [Laughing.] Are there two of you? I see two, but that is no proof. I think there is only one, but beautiful enough for two. What were you talking to yourself about, fairest one!

KHAMMA: About the lady Tsarpi, fool, and what she would do if her husband returned.

SHUMAKIM: Fie! fie! That is no talk for an innocent fool to hear. Has she a husband?

NUBTA: You know very well that she is the wife of Lord Naaman.

SHUMAKIM: I remember that she used to wear his name and his jewels. But I thought he had exchanged her,--for a leprosy.

KHAMMA: You must have heard that he went away to Samaria to look for healing. Some say that he died on the journey; but others say he has been cured, and is on his way home to his wife.

SHUMAKIM: It may be, for this is a mad world, and men never know when they are well off,--except us fools. But he must come soon if he would find his wife as he parted from her,--or the city where he left it. The Assyrians have returned with a greater army, and this time they will make an end of us. There is no Naaman now, and the Bull will devour Damascus like a bunch of leeks, flowers and all,--flowers and all, my double-budded fair one! Are you not afraid?

NUBTA: We belong to the House of Rimmon. He will protect us.

SHUMAKIM: What? The mighty one who hides behind the curtain there, and tells his secrets to Rezon? No doubt he will take care of you, and of himself. Whatever game is played, the gods never lose. But for the protection of the common people and the rest of us fools, I would rather have Naaman at the head of an army than all the sacred images between here and Babylon.

KHAMMA: You are a wicked old man. You mock the god. He will punish you.

SHUMAKIM: [Bitterly.] How can he punish me? Has he not already made me a fool? Hark, here comes my brother the High Priest, and my brother the King. Rimmon made us all; but nobody knows who made Rimmon, except the High Priest; and he will never tell.

[Gongs and cymbals sound. Enter REZON with priests, and the King with courtiers. They take their seats. A throng of Khali and Kharimati come in, TSARPI presiding; a sacred dance is performed with torches, burning incense, and chanting, in which TSARPI leads.]

CHANT