HKB
HAFI.
No, I will not; I will not act this farce a moment longer: He shall, must know it.
SALADIN.
Who? what?
SITTAH.
O Al-Hafi, Is this thy promise, this thy keeping word?
HAFI.
How could I think it was to go so far?
SALADIN.
Well, what am I to know?
SITTAH.
I pray thee, Hafi, Be more discreet.
SALADIN.
That’s very singular. And what can Sittah then so earnestly, So warmly have to sue for from a stranger, A dervis, rather than from me, her brother? Al-Hafi, I command. Dervis, speak out.
SITTAH.
Let not a trifle, brother, touch you nearer Than is becoming. You know I have often Won the same sum of you at chess, and, as I have not just at present need of money, I’ve left the sum at rest in Hafi’s chest, Which is not over-full; and thus the stakes Are not yet taken out—but, never fear, It is not my intention to bestow them On thee, or Hafi.
HAFI.
Were it only this—
SITTAH.
Some more such trifles are perhaps unclaimed; My own allowance, which you set apart, Has lain some months untouched.
HAFI.
Nor is that all—
SALADIN.
Nor yet—speak then!
HAFI.
Since we have been expecting The treasure out of Egypt, she not only—
SITTAH.
Why listen to him?
HAFI.
Has not had an asper;—
SALADIN.
Good creature—but has been advancing to thee—
HAFI.
Has at her sole expense maintained thy state.
SALADIN (embracing her).
My sister—ah!
SITTAH.
And who but you, my brother, Could make me rich enough to have the power?
HAFI.
And in a little time again will leave thee Poor as himself.
SALADIN.
I, poor—her brother, poor? When had I more, when less than at this instant? A cloak, a horse, a sabre, and a God!— What need I else? With them what can be wanting? And yet, Al-Hafi, I could quarrel with thee For this.
SITTAH.
A truce to that, my brother. Were it As easy to remove our father’s cares!
SALADIN.
Ah! now my joy thou hast at once abated: To me there is, there can be, nothing wanting; But—but to him—and, in him, to us all. What shall I do? From Egypt maybe nothing Will come this long time. Why—God only knows. We hear of no stir. To reduce, to spare, I am quite willing for myself to stoop to, Were it myself, and only I, should suffer— But what can that avail? A cloak, a horse, A sword I ne’er can want;—as to my God, He is not to be bought; He asks but little, Only my heart. I had relied, Al-Hafi, Upon a surplus in my chest.
HAFI.
A surplus? And tell me, would you not have had me impaled, Or hanged at least, if you had found me out In hoarding up a surplus? Deficits— Those one may venture on.
SALADIN.
Well, but how next? Could you have found out no one where to borrow Unless of Sittah?
SITTAH.
And would I have borne To see the preference given to another? I still lay claim to it. I am not as yet Entirely bare.
SALADIN.
Not yet entirely—This Was wanting still. Go, turn thyself about; Take where, and as, thou canst; be quick, Al-Hafi. Borrow on promise, contract, anyhow; But heed me—not of those I have enriched— To borrow there might seem to ask it back. Go to the covetous. They’ll gladliest lend— They know how well their money thrives with me—
HAFI.
I know none such.
SITTAH.
I recollect just now I heard, Al-Hafi, of thy friend’s return.
HAFI (startled).
Friend—friend of mine—and who should that be?
SITTAH.
Who? Thy vaunted Jew!
HAFI.
A Jew, and praised by me?
SITTAH.
To whom his God (I think I still retain Thy own expression used concerning him) To whom, of all the good things of this world, His God in full abundance has bestowed The greatest and the least.
HAFI.
What could I mean When I said so?
SITTAH.
The least of good things, riches; The greatest, wisdom.
HAFI.
How—and of a Jew Could I say that?
SITTAH.
Didst thou not—of thy Nathan?
HAFI.