HKB
FRIAR.
Yet gratitude, the patriarch thinks, is not A debt before the eye of God or man, Unless for our own sakes the benefit Had been conferred; and, it has been reported, The patriarch understands that Saladin Preserved your life merely because your voice, Your air, or features, raised a recollection Of his lost brother.
TEMPLAR.
He knows this? and yet— If it were sure, I should—ah, Saladin! How! and shall nature then have formed in me A single feature in thy brother’s likeness, With nothing in my soul to answer to it? Or what does correspond shall I suppress To please a patriarch? So thou dost not cheat us, Nature—and so not contradict Thyself, Kind God of all.—Go, brother, go away: Do not stir up my anger.
FRIAR.
I withdraw More gladly than I came. We cloister-folk Are forced to vow obedience to superiors.
[Goes.
TEMPLAR and DAYA.
DAYA.
The monk, methinks, left him in no good mood: But I must risk my message.
TEMPLAR.
Better still The proverb says that monks and women are The devil’s clutches; and I’m tossed to-day From one to th’ other.
DAYA.
Whom do I behold?— Thank God! I see you, noble knight, once more. Where have you lurked this long, long space? You’ve not Been ill?
TEMPLAR.
No.
DAYA.
Well, then?
TEMPLAR.
Yes.
DAYA.
We’ve all been anxious Lest something ailed you.
TEMPLAR.
So?
DAYA.
Have you been journeying?
TEMPLAR.
Hit off!
DAYA.
How long returned?
TEMPLAR.
Since yesterday.
DAYA.
Our Recha’s father too is just returned, And now may Recha hope at last—
TEMPLAR.
For what?
DAYA.
For what she often has requested of you. Her father pressingly invites your visit. He now arrives from Babylon, with twenty High-laden camels, brings the curious drugs, And precious stones, and stuffs, he has collected From Syria, Persia, India, even China.
TEMPLAR.
I am no chap.
DAYA.
His nation honours him, As if he were a prince, and yet to hear him Called the wise Nathan by them, not the rich, Has often made me wonder.
TEMPLAR.
To his nation Are rich and wise perhaps of equal import.
DAYA.
But above all he should be called the good. You can’t imagine how much goodness dwells Within him. Since he has been told the service You rendered to his Recha, there is nothing That he would grudge you.
TEMPLAR.
Aye?
DAYA.
Do—see him, try him.
TEMPLAR.
A burst of feeling soon is at an end.
DAYA.
And do you think that I, were he less kind, Less bountiful, had housed with him so long: That I don’t feel my value as a Christian: For ’twas not o’er my cradle said, or sung, That I to Palestina should pursue My husband’s steps, only to educate A Jewess. My husband was a noble page In Emperor Frederic’s army.
TEMPLAR.
And by birth A Switzer, who obtained the gracious honour Of drowning in one river with his master. Woman, how often you have told me this! Will you ne’er leave off persecuting me?
DAYA.
My Jesus! persecute—
TEMPLAR.
Aye, persecute. Observe then, I henceforward will not see, Not hear you, nor be minded of a deed Over and over, which I did unthinking, And which, when thought about, I wonder at. I wish not to repent it; but, remember, Should the like accident occur again, ’Twill be your fault if I proceed more coolly, Ask a few questions, and let burn what’s burning.
DAYA.
My God forbid!
TEMPLAR.