Scene VII.
Nathan, the Templar.
TEMPLAR.
Are you then not acquainted with him yet?
NATHAN.
Who, Saladin? Not yet. I've neither shunned
Nor sought to see him. And the public voice
Proclaims his fame so loud, that I could wish
Rather to take its language upon trust,
Than sift the truth. And yet if it be true
That he has spared your life----
TEMPLAR.
Yes, so it is.
The life I live, he gave.
NATHAN.
Then he bestows
A double, treble life on me. And thus
He flings a bond around me, which secures
My duty to his service; and henceforth
I burn to know his wishes. Now, for all
I am prepared; and further, will confess
'Tis for your sake alone that I am thus.
TEMPLAR.
Often I've sought to meet him, but as yet
Have found no means to render him my thanks.
The impress which his mind received of me
Was transient, and ere now has disappeared.
Who knows if he may still remember me?
And yet once more at least he must recall
Me to his thoughts--to fix my future lot!
'Tis not enough that by his gracious will
I still have of life; I've yet to learn
According to whose will I have to live.
NATHAN.
Therefore 'twere well I did not tarry now.
Perchance some happy word may give excuse
To speak of you. Now, pardon me, farewell!
I must away. When shall we meet again?
TEMPLAR.
Whenever 'tis permitted.
NATHAN.
When you will.
TEMPLAR.
To-day, then.
NATHAN.
And your name?
TEMPLAR.
My name was--is--
Conrad of Stauffen.
NATHAN.
Conrad of Stauffen! Stauffen!
TEMPLAR.
What is there in my name to wonder at?
NATHAN.
There are more races of that name, no doubt.
TEMPLAR.
Yes, many of the name were here--rot here,
My uncle even--I should say my father.
But wherefore is your eye so fixed on me?
NATHAN.
I know not; but I love to look on you.
TEMPLAR.
Therefore I take my leave. The searching eye
Will oft discover more than it desires.
I fear it, Nathan; so, farewell. Let time,
Not curious prying, make us better known. (Exit.)
NATHAN (looking after him with astonishment).
"The searching eye will oft discover more
Than it desires." As if he read my soul!
That, too, may chance to be. 'Tis not alone
His walk, his stature, but his very voice!
Leonard so bore himself--was even wont
To carry thus his sword upon his arm,
And thus to shade his eyebrow with his hand,
As if to hide the fire that fill'd his look.
So deeply graven images may seem
At times to lie asleep within the soul,
When all at once a single word--a tone--
Calls them to life again. Of Stauffen--right--
Filnek and Stauffen--I will soon know more.
But first to Saladin. Ha! Daja here--
And on the watch! Come nearer, Daja, come.