Jochebed
[A female relative, coming from without, cautiously draws aside the curtain over the doorway] Ahab!
Ahab
Speak low! Tread softly! Her sleep is light as thistle-down. A breath will scatter it.
Jochebed
Well for one who can still sleep, when the gates of the city are being assailed.
Ahab
Not a word of the matter. Not a word of the enemy. As you love her, spare her.
Jochebed
What do you mean? What must I not speak of?