The quivering
Quicksands of destiny beneath her stir.
Is heaven a mocking shield that ever keeps
God from our prayers?
Miriam. David, contain thy heart.
(A faint uproar begins afar; and dawn.)
David. The battle! on the wind. Abiathar,
Speed out upon the mountain-side and cull
All that befalls.
(Adah opens the gate. The priest goes.)
Adah (springing back). Oh!
David. Child, why do you quail?
Adah. My mistress, Merab!
David. Girl?
Adah. I saw her—she—
Is coming hither! Do not let her—she—
I fear—I fear her!