David. And heard her speak?
Michal. A night
Under the leaves of Gibeah—when she
Sang with another—David.
David. Say no more.
Michal. And from afar, under the moon, blew faint
The treading of the wine-presses with song.
David she loved, but anger-torn betrayed,
Unworthy of him.
David. Speak of her no more,
Nor of her cruelty, unless to pray
He she has ruined may forget her.
Michal. Yet
If deep she should repent?—if deep she should?
(A cry interrupts. They start.)
David. A jackal? (Listens.) No, the signal! Word at last!
(To Michal). He who is near may prove to thee less kind.
(She goes. He leaps up the cliff.)
Abishai? Abiathar?... It is!
But staggering and wounded? breathless? torn?
The priest with bloody ephod, too, and wild?