"Was it a fault of foolish pride in me,
Did I aspire audaciously, to hope
That I, by doing and by daring much,
Beyond my equals, might beyond them share
Fulfilments such as these? I heard a voice
Saying, 'Prepare the Lord His way.' I thought
The Lord was near, and what I could, I would
Do to make wide and smooth and straight His way
Before Him, ere He came. I trusted Him
That, when He came, He in His hands would bring
Large recompense for servants faithful found,
And not forget even Saul, should haply Saul
Not utterly in vain prove to have striven,
Removing from the path of His approach
The stone of stumbling.
"Sister, these are thoughts
Such as men have, but cherish secretly,
Even from themselves, and never speak aloud
To any; I have now not spoken these
To thee; thou hast but heard a few heart-beats
Rendered articulate breath by grace of right
Thine own to know the truth, who hast the truth
Revealed to me.
"O other conscience mine,
Wherein have I gone wrong? I felt the power,
Asleep within me, stirring half awake,
To take possession of the minds of men
And sway their wills; the world was not too wide
To be the empire I could rule aright,
As chiefest minister, were such His will,
Of God's Messiah. Some one needs must sit
At His right hand to hear and execute
His pleasure—why not Saul? Who worthier?
But now, alas! less worthy who, or who
Less likely? I am fallen, am shamed—past hope,
Past hope! I who aspired to greatest things
Am to least things by proof unequal found!
How shall I not hate Stephen, who has wrought
On me this great despite—besides what he
Wrought on the suffering cause of truth divine?"
Rachel's heart heaved, but in what words to speak
She did not find. Saul into his dark mood
Retired, and sat in silence for a while.
Returning, then, for torture of himself,
To that which Rachel brokenly began
To say, and left unsaid, Saul asked of her:
"What was it, sister, thou beganst to tell,
When, not thy brother, but thy brother's spleen,
Broke thy words off with interruption rude?
Something it seemed of how, at Stephen's words,
A change fell on thee, from thy first applause
Of me—"
"O Saul! A chasm of difference,"
So to her brother, Rachel sad burst forth,
"Yawns betwixt thee and me this day, how wide,
How wide! I feel the bond of sisterhood,
Stretching across, not strained to break—for that
Shall never, never be, in any world,
O brother, truest, noblest, best beloved!—
But strained to draw thee to me where I am
From where thou art, far off, albeit so near!"
"A tragic riddle which I fail to read,
Rachel," said Saul, perplexed; "solve thou it me."
"Brother, I fear I cannot," Rachel said;
"But loyally I will try. When Stephen stood
To answer thee that day, a power not he
Oppressed my spirit with a sense of weight,
Gentle but insupportable, which grew
Instantly greater and greater, until it seemed
Ready to crush, unless I yielded; Saul,
I yielded, and that weight became as might
Which passed to underneath me and upbore."
"Rachel, be simpler," Saul severely said;
"My soul refuses to be teased with words.
Meanest thou this, that Stephen mastered thee?"
"Nay, Saul, my brother," meekly Rachel said,
Meekly and firmly; "Stephen not, but God.
No man could master me away from Saul.
Proudly I was thy vassal sister, Saul,
Until God summoned me with voice that I
Might not resist; God's vassal am I now,
But sister still to thee, and loyal, Saul,
Beyond all measure of that loyalty
I held before, which made me proud of thee,
And glad of thee, and spurred me on to praise
My brother as the paragon of men.
O Saul—"
"Nay, Rachel," Saul said, with a tone
Repressive more than the repressive words,
"I will not hear thee further in this vein.
Thou art a woman, and I must not blame
Thy weakness; sister too to me thou art,
And I will not misdoubt thy love; but thou
Hast added the last drop of bitterness
To the crowned cup of grief and shame poured out
For me to drink. Go, Rachel, muse on this:
A brother leaned an aching, aching heart
Upon a sister's bosom to be eased,
And that one pillow out of all the world
To me, that trusted downy softness, hid
The cruelest subtle unsuspected thorn.
Saul's sister a disciple and a dupe
Of those that preach the son of Joseph, Christ!
And this, forsooth, the fruit that was to be
Of Saul's aspiring trust to strike the stroke
That in one day should crush the wretched creed!
Rachel, methinks thou mightst have spared me this!
But nay, my sister, better is it so.
Haply no barb less keen had stung me back
To my old self and made me Saul again—
The weakling that I was, to pule and weep,
As if the cause were lost and all were lost!
I thank thee, sister, thou hast done me good,
Like medicine—like bitter medicine!
Tell me true, Rachel, thou didst feign me this,
To rouse me from my late unmanly swoon.
That is past now; I rise refreshed and strong,
I see my path before me, stretching straight,
I enter it to tread it to the end.
Doubt not but I shall feel the wholesome hurt
Of the shrewd spur my sister, with wise heart
Of hardness, plunged full deep into my side
Betimes, when I was drooping nigh to sink.
Peace to thee, sister, cheer thee with this thought,
'I saved my brother from the last disgrace
By a disgrace next to the last—it was
A hard way, but the only, and it sped!'"
Such cruel irony from her brother cut
The tender heart of Rachel like a knife.
But more for Saul she grieved than for herself;
She knew that naught but anguish of chagrin
The sharpest could have tortured out from him,
So noble and so gentle, any taunt.
From sheer compassion of his misery,
She wept, and said:
"O Saul, Saul, Saul—"