Scene III.
Sittah, Saladin.
SITTAH.
He speeds away, as though he would escape.
Why so? Is he indeed himself deceived,
Or would he now mislead me?
SALADIN.
Can I guess?
I scarcely know the man of whom you speak,
And, for the first time, hear to-day of him.
SITTAH.
Can it be possible you know him not
Who, it is said, has visited the
Of Solomon and David; knows the spell
To ope their marble lids, and thence obtain
The boundless stores that claim no lesser source.
SALADIN.
Were this man's wealth by miracle procured,
'Tis not at Solomon's or David's tomb
That it is found. Mere mortal fools lie there.
SITTAH.
Or knaves!--But still his source of opulence
Is more productive, more exhaustless than
A cave of Mammon.
SALADIN.
For he trades, I'm told.
SITTAH.
His caravans through every desert toil,
His laden camels throng the public roads,
His ships in every harbour furl their sails.
Al-Hafi long ago has told me this,
Adding, with pride, how Nathan gives away,
What he esteems it noble to have earned
By patient industry, for others' wants;
How free from bias is his lofty soul,
His heart to every virtue how unlocked,
To every lovely feeling how allied!
SALADIN.
And yet Al-Hafi spoke with coldness of him.
SITTAH.
Not coldness, but unwillingness, as if
He deemed it dangerous to praise too much,
Yet knew not how to blame without a cause.
Or can it be, in truth, that e'en the best
Amongst a tribe can never quite escape
The foibles of their race, and that, in fact,
Al-Hafi has in this to blush for Nathan?
But come what may, let him be Jew or not,
If he be rich, that is enough for me.
SALADIN.
You would not, sister, take his--wealth by force?
SITTAH.
By force? What mean you? Fire and sword? Oh, no!
What force is necessary with the weak
But their own weakness? Come awhile with me,
Into my harem. I have bought a songstress
You have not heard--she came but yesterday.
Meanwhile I'll think upon a subtle plan
For this same Nathan. Follow, Saladin!
Scene IV.
The Place of Palms, near Nathan's house, from which Recha and Nathan are coming; Daja, meeting them.
RECHA.
Dear father! you have been so slow, that you
Will scarcely meet him now.
NATHAN.
Well, well, my child;
If not beneath the palms, be sure that we
Shall meet him somewhere else. Be satisfied.
Is not that Daja whom I see approaching?
RECHA.
She certainly has lost him.
NATHAN.
Wherefore so?
RECHA.
Her pace were quicker else.
NATHAN.
She has not seen us.
RECHA.
There, now she spies us.
NATHAN.
And her speed redoubles.
Recha, be calm!
RECHA.
What! would you have your child
Be cold and unconcerned about his fate
To whom her life is due?--a life to her
But dear because she owed it first to you.
NATHAN.
I would not wish you other than you are,
E'en if I knew that in your secret soul
Another and a different feeling throbs.
RECHA.
What means my father?
NATHAN.
Do you ask of me--
So tremblingly of me? What passes now
Within your soul is innocence and nature.
Nay, fear not, for it gives me no alarm.
But promise, if the heart shall ever speak
A plainer language, you will not conceal
One single of your wishes from my love.
RECHA.
Oh, the bare thought that I should ever wish
To hide them from my father, makes me shudder.
NATHAN.
Recha, enough of this. Now, what says Daja?
DAJA.
He's still beneath the palms, and presently
He'll reach yon wall. See! here he comes at last.
RECHA.
He seems irresolute which way to turn,
To left or right!
DAJA.
His custom is to seek
The convent walls, so he will pass this way.
What will you wager? Yes, he comes to us.
RECHA.
Right! Did you speak to him? How did he look?
DAJA.
As usual.
NATHAN.
Do not let him see you here.
Stand farther back, or to the house retire.
RECHA.
Just one look more. Ah! the trees hide him now.
DAJA.
Come, come away! Recha, your father's right.
Should he observe us he'll retire at once.
RECHA.
Alas! the trees----
NATHAN.
Now he emerges from them.
He can't but see you. Hence! I beg of you.
DAJA.
Come, Recha, come! I know a window whence
We may observe him better.
RECHA.
Come, then, come.
(They both retire.)