Scene VIII.
The Place of Palms in the neighbourhood of the Convent, where the Templar awaits Nathan.
TEMPLAR (walking to and fro, in conflict with himself.)
The panting victim here may rest awhile.
So far 'tis well. I dare not ask myself
What change has sprung within me, nor inquire
What yet may happen. Flight has proved in vain,
And, come what may, I could no more than flee,
The stroke was far too sudden to escape.
Long--much--I strove to keep aloof, in vain.
But once to see her, e'en against my will,
To see her, and to frame a firm resolve
Never to lose her. What, then, is resolve?
Resolve is purpose--action, while--in truth--
I was but passive. But to see her once,
And feel that I was woven into her being,
Was then and still remains the self-same thing.
To live apart from her--oh, bitter thought!--
Were death; and after death--where'er we were--
'Twould there be death too. Say, then, is this love?
And doth the Templar love? A Christian loves
A Jewish maiden! Well, and what of that?
This is the holy land; holy to me,
And dear, because I have of late renounced
Full many a prejudice. What says my vow?
In the same hour that made me prisoner
To Saladin. The head he gave me back,
Was it the old one? No. I'm newly framed,
I know no fragment of the ancient forms
That bound me once. My brain is clearer now,
More fit for my paternal home above.
Now I can think as once my father thought,
If tales of him are not untruly told--
Tales that were ne'er so credible as now,
When I am stumbling where my father fell.
Fell! yet 'twere better far to fall with men
Than stand with boys. His conduct guarantees
His approbation. And what need I more
Than Nathan's approbation? Of his praise
I cannot doubt. Oh, what a Jew is he!
And yet he would appear the simple Jew.
But, see, he comes--he comes in haste--delight
Beams from his eye. But who leaves Saladin
With other looks? Ho! Nathan!
Scene IX.
Nathan, the Templar.
NATHAN.
Are you there?
TEMPLAR.
Your visit to the Sultan has been long.
NATHAN.
Not over long. My audience was delayed.
But, Conrad, this man well supports his fame--
His fame is but his shadow. But I must
Without delay inform you that he would----
TEMPLAR.
Say on.
NATHAN.
Would speak with you. So, come with me at once.
I have some brief commands to give at home,
Then to the Sultan.
TEMPLAR.
Nathan, I will ne'er
Enter your door again----
NATHAN.
Then you've been there
Already--spoken with her. Tell me all.
How do you like my Recha?
TEMPLAR.
Words would fail
To tell how much. I dare not trust myself
Alone with her again, unless you say
That I may gaze upon her form for ever.
NATHAN.
What can this mean?
TEMPLAR (after a short pause, embracing him suddenly).
My father!
NATHAN.
How, young man?
TEMPLAR (withdrawing himself as suddenly).
Call me your son! I do implore you, Nathan.
NATHAN.
Dear youth!
TEMPLAR.
And not your son! I pray you, Nathan,
Conjure you, by the strongest ties of Nature,
Let it content you now to be a man:
Repel me not.
NATHAN.
My dearest friend!
TEMPLAR.
Say son!
Why not your son? What, if in Recha's heart
Mere gratitude had paved the way for love,
And if we both but waited your assent
To crown our union! You are silent, sir!
NATHAN.
I am astonished at your words, young Knight.
TEMPLAR.
Astonished! Do I then astonish you
With your own thoughts, although you know them not
When uttered by my lips. Astonished, Nathan?
NATHAN.
Would that I knew what Stauffen was your father!
TEMPLAR.
What say you, Nathan? At a time like this,
Can you indulge such empty, curious thoughts?
NATHAN.
I knew a Stauffen once whose name was Conrad.
TEMPLAR.
What, if my father bore that very name?
NATHAN.
And did he so?
TEMPLAR.
I bear my father's name,
I am called Conrad.
NATHAN.
So! And yet the man
I knew was not your father, for, like you,
He was a Templar, and was never married.
TEMPLAR.
And what of that?
NATHAN.
How?
TEMPLAR.
He might still have been
My father.
NATHAN.
Nay, you jest.
TEMPLAR.
You're far too good.
What matters it? Does bastard wound your ear?
The race, good sir, is not to be despised.
But spare my pedigree, and I'll spare yours.
Great God! forbid my words should ever cast
The smallest doubt on your ancestral tree.
You can attest it backwards, leaf by leaf,
To Abraham. And from that point--I know it well,
Myself--can even swear to it.
NATHAN.
Your words are bitter. Do I merit this?
What have I e'er refused you? I have but
Forborn assent at the first word you spoke.
No more!
TEMPLAR.
Oh! true, no more. Forgive me, Nathan.
NATHAN.
Well, come with me, come.
TEMPLAR.
Whither? to your house?
That will I not--it burns. I'll wait you here.
Farewell. If I'm to see her once again,
I then shall see her often; and if not,
I have already seen her too--too much.
Scene X.
The Templar, Daja.
TEMPLAR.
Too much, indeed! Strange that the human brain
So infinite of comprehension, should
At times with a mere trifle be engrossed,
Suddenly filled, and all at once quite full,
No matter what it teems with. But the soul
Soon calms again, and the fermenting stuff
Makes itself room, restoring life and order.
And is this, then, the first time that I love?
And was the glow to which I gave that name
Not love at all? And is this love alone
Which now with burning flame consumes my heart?
DAJA (who has crept up to his side).
Sir Knight! Sir Knight!
TEMPLAR.
Who calls? What, Daja, you!
DAJA.
Yes, I am here; I managed to slip by him.
But he can see us where we stand. Come nearer,
And place yourself with me behind this tree.
TEMPLAR.
Why so mysterious? What's the secret, Daja?
DAJA.
Yes, 'tis a secret which has brought me hither--
A twofold secret. Part is known to me,
The other part to you. Come, let us change:
First tell me yours, and then I'll tell you mine.
TEMPLAR.
Yes, willingly, when I have ascertained
What you call mine. But yours will throw a light
Upon the whole. Begin, then.
DAJA.
That's not fair;
You must begin, Sir Knight, and I will follow.
For be assured my secret's nothing worth,
Unless I hear yours first. Then lose no time,
For if I guess it, you've not trusted me;
My secret, then, will be my own, and yours
Worth nothing. But do you suppose, Sir Knight,
That you can hide such secrets from a woman?
TEMPLAR.
Secrets we often are unconscious of.
DAJA.
Perhaps. But I must prove myself your friend
And tell you all. Confess how happened it
That you so suddenly took leave of us,
And that with Nathan you will not return?
Has Recha, then, made no impression on you,
Or made too deep a one, perchance? Oh yes!
Too deep--too deep! You are a hapless bird
Whose fluttering wing the fatal twig has limed,
Confess it, plainly, with a word, you love--
Love her to madness, and I'll tell you then----
TEMPLAR.
To madness? Ah! you understand it well.
DAJA.
Well, grant the love, the madness I'll resign.
TEMPLAR.
Because, of course, there is no doubt of it.
A Templar love a Jewess!----
DAJA.
Why, it seems
Absurd. But often there's more fitness in
Some things than we can readily discern;
And 'twould not be the first time that our Lord
Had drawn us to Him by a secret path
Which we had ne'er discovered of ourselves.
TEMPLAR.
Solemnly spoken I (and if for our Lord
I substituted Providence, 'twere true).
You make me curious, far beyond my wont.
DAJA.
This is the land of miracles!
TEMPLAR.
Ay, true,
Of miracles! Can it be otherwise,
When all the world flocks hither? Dearest Daja,
You have your wish; so take it as confessed
That I do love her, nor can comprehend
How I can live without her.
DAJA.
Can this be?
Then swear, Sir Knight, to make her yours--to save
Her here on earth--to save her there for ever.
TEMPLAR.
How can I this? How can I swear to do
What stands not in my power.
DAJA.
'Tis in your power!
One single word brings it within your power.
TEMPLAR.
But will her father smile upon my suit?
DAJA.
Her father, truly! He shall be compelled.
TEMPLAR.
Compell'd! What, has he fallen among thieves?
Compell'd!
DAJA.
Then hear me. Nathan will consent:
He must consent.
TEMPLAR.
Consent! and must! Oh, Daja!
I have already tried to touch that chord;
It vibrates not responsive.
DAJA.
What! reject you?
TEMPLAR.
He answered me in such discordant tone
That I was hurt.
DAJA.
What say you? Did you breathe
The shadow of a wish to marry Recha.
And did not Nathan leap for joy? Did he
Draw coldly back--raise obstacles?
TEMPLAR.
He did.
DAJA.
Then I'll deliberate no moment more.
TEMPLAR (after a pause).
And yet you are deliberating still.
DAJA.
Nathan in all things has been ever good.
I owe him much. Did he refuse to listen?
God knows it grieves me to constrain him thus.
TEMPLAR.
I pray you, Daja, now to terminate
This dire uncertainty. But if you doubt
Whether the thing you would impart to me
Be right or wrong, worthy of shame or honour,
Then tell it not, and henceforth I'll forget
You have a secret it were well to hide.
DAJA.
Your words but spur me on to tell you all.
Then learn that Recha is no Jewess--that
She is a Christian maid.
TEMPLAR (coldly).
I wish you joy!
At last the tedious labour's at an end.
The birth-pangs have not hurt you. Still go on
With undiminished zeal, and people heaven
When you are fit no more to people earth.
DAJA.
How, Knight! and does the news I bring deserve
Such bitter taunts? Does it confer no joy
On you to hear that Recha is a Christian,
On you, her lover, and a Christian knight?
TEMPLAR.
And more especially since Recha is
A Christian of your making?
DAJA.
Think you so?
Then I would fain see him that may convert her.
It is her fate long since to have been that
Which she can now no more become.
TEMPLAR.
Explain,
Or leave me.
DAJA.
Well! she is a Christian maid,
Of Christian parents born--and is baptised.
TEMPLAR (hastily).
And Nathan!
DAJA.
Not her father.
TEMPLAR.
Nathan not
Her father? Are you sure of that?
DAJA.
I am;
The truth has cost me tears of blood. He's not.
TEMPLAR.
But as his daughter he has brought her up,
Brought up the Christian maiden as a Jewess?
DAJA.
Just so.
TEMPLAR.
And knows she aught about her birth?
Has she not learnt from him that she was born
A Christian and no Jewess?
DAJA.
Never yet.
TEMPLAR.
And he not only let the child grow up
In this mistaken notion, but he leaves
The woman in it.
DAJA.
Ay, alas!
TEMPLAR.
Oh, Nathan!
How can the wise, good Nathan lend himself
To stifle Nature's voice--to misdirect
The yearnings of a heart in such a way
Which, to itself abandoned, would have formed
Another bias, Daja? Ay, in truth,
The secret is of moment, and may have
Important issues. But I feel perplexed:
I know not how I ought to act. But go,
Let me have breathing time. He may approach,
He may surprise us suddenly. Farewell!
DAJA.
I tremble with affright.
TEMPLAR.
And I can scarce
Express my thoughts. But go; and should you chance
To meet him, say he'll find me at the Sultan's.
DAJA.
Let him not see that you have any thing
Against him. That 'twere well to keep reserved,
To give the proper turn to things at last.
It may remove your scruples, touching Recha.
But if you take her back to Europe, Knight,
You will not leave me here?
TEMPLAR.
We'll see, now go!