[Exit Ruahmah: Naaman stands looking after her.]
Scene II
Time: The following morning
The audience-hall in Benhadad's palace. The sides of the hall are lined with lofty columns: the back opens toward the city, with descending steps: the House of Rimmon with its high tower is seen in the background. The throne is at the right in front: opposite is the royal door of entrance, guarded by four tall sentinels. Enter at the rear between the columns, Rakhaz, Saballidin, Hazael, Izdubhar.
Izdubhar: [An excited old man.]
The city is all in a turmoil. It boils like a pot of lentils. The people are foaming and bubbling round and round like beans in the pottage.
Hazael: [A lean, crafty man.]
Fear is a hot fire.
Rakhaz: [A fat, pompous man.]
Well may they fear, for the Assyrians are not three days distant. They are blazing along like a waterspout to chop Damascus down like a pitcher of spilt milk.
Saballidin: [Young and frank.]
Cannot Naaman drive them back?
Rakhaz: [Puffing and blowing.]
Ho! Naaman? Where have you been living? Naaman is a broken reed whose claws have been cut. Build no hopes on that foundation, for it will run away and leave you all adrift in the conflagration.
Saballidin:
He clatters like a windmill. What would he say, Hazael?