ACT III

SCENE: _A savage mountain-cliff in the wilderness of Engeddi. On either side grey crags rise rugged, sinking away precipitously across the back. Cut into each is a cave. The height is reached by clefts from all sides. Between the crags to the East is the far blue of the Dead Sea; and still beyond, bathed in the waning afternoon, stretch the purple shores of Moab. During the act the scene grows crimson with sunset and a thundercloud arises over the sea. Lying on a pallet of skins near the cliff's verge_, DAVID _tosses feverishly. Three of his followers and a lad, who serves him, are gathered toward the front, ragged, hungry, and hunted, in altercation over a barley cake._

_David._ Water! the fever fills me, and I thirst. Water!

_First Fol._ Listen.

_Second Fol._ He calls.

_David._ Water! I thirst.

_The Lad._ Yes, yes, my lord. (_Takes up a water-skin._) Ah, empty, not a quaff! They've drunk it all from him! My lord, none's left. I'll run and in the valley brim it soon.

(_He goes._ DAVID _sinks back._)

_Second Fol_ (_to_ FIRST). _You_ drank it, then.

_First Fol._ And should I thirst, not he? Give me the bread.

_Second Fol._ If it would strangle you.

_First Fol._ I'll have it.

_Second Fol._ Or betray him? spitingly? It is the last. Already you have eat. And we are here within a wilderness.

_First Fol._ Be it, but I'll not starve.

_Third Fol._ He utters right. Why should we but to follow a mere shepherd Famish--over a hundred desert hills? The prophecy portending him the throne-- Folly, not fate! though it is Samuel's. I'll trust in it no more.

_First Fol._ Nor I.

_Third Fol._ And Saul Has driven us from waste to waste--pressed us Even unto the Philistines for shelter, And now unto this crag. And is not David's Thought but of Michal, not of smiting him And, with a host, of leaping to the kingdom?

(DAVID _stirs to rise._)

_First Fol._ He moves; peace!

_Third Fol._ Let him.

_Second Fol._ Peace.

_Third Fol._ And fawning too?

_David_ (_sufferingly_). Men--men, we must have news. Perpetual, Implacable they stare unto each other, This rock and stony sky.... We must have news.

(_Rises and comes down to them. They are silent._)

Longer is death. 'Tis over many days Of sighing--and remembered verdancy; Nor any dew comes here or odour up. Who will go now and bring us word of Saul?

_Third Fol._ Have not Abishai, Abiathar, And others gone?

_David._ Bravely.

_Third Fol._ And none returned!

_David._ Not one of all.

_Third Fol._ Well, then, we are not swine; And life's but once.... So we will follow you No longer hungered and rewarded never, But perilously ever.

_David._ It is well.

(_He looses a bracelet from his arm._)

This was a gift from Saul. In it is ease.

(_Gives it to_ THIRD FOLLOWER, _who goes._)

This ring was Jonathan's. The jewel tells Still of the sunny haven of his heart. Upon my hand he pressed it--the day we leapt Deeper than friends into each other's love.

(_Gives it to_ FIRST, _who goes._)

This chain----

_Second Fol._ I want it not.

_David._ You have not thought; 'Tis riches--such as Sidon marts and Tyre Would covet.

_Second Fol._ I care not.

_David._ None else is left.

_Second Fol._ No matter.

_David._ Then----?

_Second Fol._ There was of Gibeah A woman--dear to me. Her face at night ... Weeping among my dreams.... The prophesy Is unfulfilled and vain!

_David._ And you would go?

_Second Fol._ The suffering--this cliff.

_David._ I understand. (_Motions._) So, without any blame, go--to content.

(_The_ SECOND, _faltering, goes._)

(_Quietly._) A desolation left, of rock and air, Of barren sea and bitterness as vast. Thou hast bereft me, Saul!... and Michal, thou!

(_He moves up cliff, gazes off, then kneels as to pray._)

My flesh cries for oblivion--to sink Unwaking away into the night ... where is No tears, but only tides of sleep.... No, crieth Not for oblivion and night, but for Rage and revenge! Saul! Saul!... My spirit, peace. I must revenge's call within me quell Though righteously it quivers and aflame. As pants the hart for the water-brook, so I!

(_He bows his head_.... MICHAL _enters in rags with the lad. She sees_ DAVID _rise and wander into cave, right._)

_Michal._ This is the place, then, this?

_Lad._ Yes, princess.

_Michal._ Here So long in want and sickness he hath hid? Under the livid day and lonelier night?

_Lad._ I brought him water, often.

_Michal._ Little lad! But he has heard no word from me?--not how My father, Saul, frantic of my repentance, Had unto Phalti, a new lord, betrothed me? How then I fled to win unto these wilds?

_Lad._ He heard not anything--only the tales I told of Moab, my own land.... But, oh!

(DAVID _plays within._)

It is his harp.

_Michal._ And strains that weep o'er me!... I'll speak to him ... and yet must be unknown! A leper? as a leper could I...?

_Lad._ Why Must he not know you?

_Michal._ Ask me not, lad, now; But go a little.

_Lad._ Yes.

(_He sets down the water-skin and goes._)

_Michal_ (_delaying, then in a loud voice_). Unclean! Unclean!

(_Conceals her face in her hair._)

_David._ Who crieth here?

_Michal._ Unclean!

_David_ (_appearing_). Who cries unclean? Poor leper in these wilds, who art thou?

_Michal._ One Outcast and faint, forlorn!

_David._ Then you have come To one more bitter outcast than yourself-- One who has less than this lone void to give, This sterile solitude and sun, this scene Of leaden desolation that makes mad; Who has no ease but cave or shading rock, Or the still moon, or stars that glide the night. One over whom----

_Michal._ Yet, pity!

_David._ The pale hours Flow dead into eternity.

_Michal._ Ah, yet...!

_David._ My cloak, then, for thy tattered limbs. Or, no-- This chain of Ophir for thy every need. Once it was dear, but should be so no more. (_Flinging it to her_). Have it, and with it vanish memory Out of my breast----

_Michal._ No, no.

_David._ And from me fall Link upon link her loveliness that bound.

_Michal._ Oh, do not!

_David._ Woman...?

_Michal._ Nothing. A chain like this I once beheld wind undulantly bright O'er Michal the king's daughter.

_David._ Woman, the king's?

_Michal._ Pity!

_David._ Who are you?

_Michal._ Stay! Unclean!

_David._ A spy? A spy of Saul and hypocrite have crept Hither to learn...?

_Michal._ Have heed--unclean!

_David._ How, then Wandering came you here?

_Michal._ Unclean! Unclean!

_David._ My brain is overfull of fever, mad. Almost and I had touched thy peril, held Thy hideous contagion.

_Michal._ Wrong!

_David._ Then who Art thou to know and speak of her, of Michal?

_Michal._ One who has served the king.

_David._ And you have seen Michal, you have beheld her?

_Michal._ Once, when she In face was fairer and in heart than now They say she is.

_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?

(_Watching, then springing to meet them as they reel in._)

Abishai, what is it that you bring? Abiathar, up! answer!

_Abiathar._ Water!

_David._ Up!

(_He brings the water-skin. They drain it fiercely._)

What is it now so fevered from you stares, And breathing, too, abhorrence? Gasp it out.

_Abiathar._ I stifle--in a universe--he still-- Has breath in.

_David._ Saul?

_Abiathar._ Ill scathe him! Scorpions Of terror and remorse sting in his soul!

_David._ If you have tidings, not in words so wild.

_Abiathar._ Then ask, and hate shall calm me.

_David._ Ask?

_Abiathar._ On, on! Seek if he lives!

_David._ Who?

_Abiathar._ Seek if prophecy Founts yet in Judah!

_David._ Samuel...?

_Abiathar._ Is dead! Dead--and of tidings more calamitous.

(_A pause._)

_David_ (_hoarsely_). Tell on. I hear.

_Abiathar._ Saul gloating to believe The priests who gathered sacredly at Nob, Plotted assisting you, hath had them----

_David._ No...!

_Abiathar._ Slain at the hands of Doeg--murdered, all!

_David._ But he--your father?

_Abiathar._ Was among them; fell.

(_He stands motionless._)

_David_ (_gently_). Abiathar, my friend!... Appeaseless Saul!

_Abiathar._ Hear all, hear all! Thy father, too, and mother, Even thy kindred, out of Israel Are driven into Moab; and this king, Delirious still for blood as a desert pard, With Merab, whelp of him, and many armed, Is near us now--a-quiver at Engeddi For your destruction:

(DAVID _struggles for control._)

And yet you will not strike.

_David_ (_low_). No, but of Michal, tell me good at once, Lest unendurable this lot, I may---- Mounting o'er every oath into revenge.

_Abiathar._ Ha--Michal!

_David._ She withholds her father's wrath?

_Abiathar._ She's well.

_David._ Not if you say no more.

_Abiathar._ I know Nothing of her.

_David._ Your look belies.

_Abiathar._ Perhaps: As did her love.

_David._ That is for me.

_Abiathar._ Well, what? A woman who betrays?

_David._ Speak, not evade; And judge her when earth has no mystery.

_Abiathar._ Then from your craving put her--wide; she is Unworthy any tremor of your veins.

_David._ Dawn-lilies under dew are then unworthy, And nesting doves are horrible to heaven. I will not so believe. Your reason?

_Abiathar._ Saul Has given her--and she will wed him, aye-- To Phalti, a new lord.

_David._ Untrue of her!

_Abiathar._ Cry. Yet you will believe it.

_David._ Not until The parable of verdant spring is hushed Ever of bloom, to prove it. Never till Hermon is swung into the sea! until The last void of the everlasting sky--

(_Looking up, falters, breaks off, and is strangely moved._)

_Abiathar._ Now what alarm?

_Abishai._ What stare you on?

_Abiathar._ He's mad?

(_Then, suddenly seeing._)

No, no!... an eaglet!...

_David._ Pierct!

_Abishai._ Pierct?

_David._ Falling here ... And beating against death unbuoyantly.

(_The bird drops at their feet._)

A destiny, a fate in this is hidden!

(_Bends to it._)

_Abiathar._ And--why?

_David._ The arrow!--His! (_Starts back._) His and no other's! Quick, no delay. Efface all trace of us.

(_Takes water-skin._)

_Abiathar._ Be clear, clearer.

_David._ We are discovered--near On us is death. Open the secret chamber Within the cave, for from the bow of Saul Is yonder bleeding--from no other.

_Abiathar._ Saul's? But how; was any here?

_David._ To-day, to-day. A leper wandering.

_Abiathar._ We are betrayed.

(ABISHAI _hastes to cave, right_, DAVID _and_ ABIATHAR _listen. Noise of approach is heard._)

_David._ They near.

_Abiathar._ And many.

_David._ King of Israel! Inexorable!

_Abiathar._ O, rebuke him, do!

_David._ Almost I am beyond this tolerance.

_Abiathar._ In truth. Therefore it is you rise and shake Out of his power the sceptre!

_David._ Tempt me not! Mercy and memory almost are dead, And craving birth in me is fateful ire.

(_They follow into the cave: but hardly have done so when, at a shout, pour in_ SAUL _and his men, bloodthirstily, from all sides_, DOEG _and_ ABNER _leading._)

_Saul._ On, to him! search the caves! in, in, and bring Him to my sword and Michal with him.

(_Pacing._)

They Shall couch upon eternity and dust. (_Weakly._) I am the king and Israel is mine.... I'll sleep upon their grave, I'll sleep upon it, And hear the worm...!

(_To a soldier re-entering from one cave._)

Where is he? Bring him.

_Soldier._ O king--

_Saul._ You've slain him and you tremble! Say it.

_Soldier._ No.

_Saul._ Then hither with him; hither!

_Soldier._ He's not here.

_Saul._ A treachery! You cunningly contrive To aid him, so....

(_To a soldier from the other cave._)

Bring me his head.

_Soldier_ (_fearfully_). My lord, He is not there....

_Saul._ I tell you it is lies-- Because you deem that he shall be the king, And treasure up reward and amnesty.

(_Rushes wildly to caves in turn, then out among them._)

From me ill-fruited ineffectual herd! Away from me, he's fled and none of you Is servant and will find and for me seize him! From me--I'll sleep--I'll rest--and then--

(_As they cringe, going._)

I'll sleep.

(ABNER _and_ DOEG _remain_. SAUL _enters cave, left._)

_Abner_ (_to_ DOEG, _significantly_). The Evil Spirit.

_Doeg._ Yes; upon him swift It came as never before--as drunkenness.

_Abner._ Then--safe to leave him?

_Doeg._ Will he brook denial?

_Abner._ And Merab, too, will soon be here.

_Doeg._ Well, come.

_Abner._ I'll go and look upon him.

(_Goes._)

(_Returning._) Already he sleeps. So we may seek us water; (then suddenly) no, abide!

(_Is held by_ MICHAL _entering._)

Woman, who are you, who?

_Michal_ (_quaking_). Unclean! away!

_Doeg._ Unclean? a leper? in this place? Are there No stones to stone you? Hence! And had I not A brother such as thou----

_Michal._ Pity! Unclean!

(_She quickly goes, then they. A space; then she returns, trembling and fearful._)

I'll call him! I will save him! David! David!-- I his discomfiture and ruin!--David!

(_Searches._)

Hear, David! hear me! David!

(_Sees_ SAUL.)

The king! My father! I cannot--am not--whither shall I, whither...?

(_Flees, as a scuffling is heard and_ DAVID'S _voice._)

_David._ Loose me, I say. 'Twas Michal, and she called!

(_Appears, withheld by_ ABIATHAR.)

(_Breaking free._) I say that it was she!

_Abiathar._ Foolhardy, no Return into the cave, and ere too late!

(MERAB, _veiled, enters behind them._)

_David._ 'Twas Michal and no other.

_Abiathar._ You are duped.

_David_ (_searching_). The breathing of archangels could not so Have swung the burden from me as her ... Ha!

(_Sees_ MERAB; _slowly recoils._)

_Merab._ It is not Michal.

_David._ No--it is not Michal.

(_Motions the priest aside._)

_Merab._ Yet it is one who----

_David._ Need not lift her veil, Or longer stay. The path she came is open.

_Merab._ I'm here--and here will speak! I've hither stolen, Yearning--I say it--yearning--and I will.

_David._ These words I do not know.

_Merab._ Because you will not. More all-devouring than a Moloch is This love within me----

_David._ Love and you are twain, As sun and Sheol.

_Merab._ False. I am become For want of you as famine-wind, a wave In the mid-tempest, with no rest, no shore.

_David._ I do not hear the unashamed words Of one who has but recently another, Adriel, wedded.

_Merab._ You refuse me, then?

_David._ I beg you but to cease.

_Merab._ Goaded, chagrined? No, but this will I do. The Philistines, For long at rioting within their walls, Gather again and break toward Gilboa....

_David._ Merab of Saul!

_Merab._ To-morrow must my father Return from hunting you and arm for battle. But--many would that you were king.

_David._ Were...?

_Merab._ King!

_David._ I do not understand your eyes.

_Merab._ I will For love of you arouse rebellion up, Murmur about the host your heaven-call, And lift you to the kingdom.

_David._ To the ---- Stay! Your words again.

_Merab._ The kingdom.

_David._ Awful God!

_Merab._ What is your mien? you will not?

_David._ Twice the words-- Full from her lips--and to betray her father.

(ABIATHAR _discovers_ SAUL.)

_Merab._ You will not? answer!

_David._ Odious utterly! As yonder sea of death and bitter salt! As foam-girt Joppa of idolatry, As Memphian fane of all abhorrencies!

(_A pause._)

Morning would move with horror of it, noon A livid sepulchre of shame span o'er, And night shrink to remember day had been!

_Merab._ You scorn--you scorn me?

_David._ Jonathan! your sister!

_Merab._ Then Saul shall rend you dead. And Jonathan!...

(_She laughs shrilly._)

Perchance you had not heard that Jonathan Knows to the Philistines you fled--and loathes you!

_David._ I have not heard.

_Merab._ Nor have not, ah? how Michal Is given to the embraces of another?

(DAVID _shrinks._)

You desperately breathe and pale at last?

(_She laughs more bitterly._)

To me for aid, to me you yet shall come.

(_She goes._ DAVID _lifts his hand to his brow in pain. Then_ ABIATHAR _abruptly descends from_ SAUL'S _cave to him._)

_Abiathar._ David----

_David._ Leave me.

_Abiathar._ Not till you know--and strike!

_David._ I tell you, go.

_Abiathar._ I tell you 'tis the king.

_David._ Who breaks forbearance--yes.

_Abiathar._ Who lieth yonder. And sleeping lieth--for a thrust to end.

_David_ (_his sword quickly out--struggling_). Then shall there be an ending--of these wounds That wring me--of this wail Under the deeps of me against his wrongs. Saul, Saul!... Michal!... Oh, never-ceasing ill!

(_Flings down the sword in anguish._)

_Abiathar._ You will not come?

_David._ The sun is set.

_Abiathar._ Has Saul Hunted you to this desert's verge?

_David._ Enough!

_Abiathar._ Has he pursued you, all his hate unleashed? Are Samuel--the priests, not slain? my father? The kingdom is not in decay, and falls? You are not prophesy's anointed one? Seize up the sword and strike--or I myself!

_David._ Or--you yourself?...

(_Puts them aside, takes sword, and goes to_ SAUL'S _cave._)

_Abishai._ What will he do?... listen

MICHAL _enters unseen_.

_Abiathar._ If Saul cries out----

_Abishai._ Be ready.

_Michal_ (_to them_). What is this?

(DAVID _re-enters--haggard and worn--from the cave, a piece of_ SAUL'S _cloak and the sword still in his hand_.... _The pause is tense with emotion._)

_Michal_ (_at last, with a cry, as David clenches_). Ah, you have slain--have slain him! Wretch! thou wretch! And sleeping as he was!

_David._ And it was you...?

(_Rage takes him._)

In lying rags?

_Michal._ Have struck him in his sleep! And merciless! And now will kill me, too?

_David._ The leper, you! The faithless leper, you,

(_Grows frenzied._)

Who drove me a prey upon this wilderness! Upon the blot of it and death and sear! The silence and relentless burning swoon! You are the leper, who have broken troth And shut the cry of justice from your breast! Who've stifled me with desolation's woe, Who've followed still and still have me betrayed!

_Michal._ Betrayed? No, loose me!

_David._ Slain thy father? slain?

(_Flinging the piece of_ SAUL'S _cloak at her feet._)

See how I might--see, see you, yonder he lies, A king who quits the kingdom, though a cloud Of Philistines is foaming toward Gilboa; Jeoparded leaves it, undefended, for Pursuit of me and pitiless harrying! A king who murders priests ...

_Michal._ Priests?

_David._ Stifles God With penitence that He has shaped the world! Have slain? have slain him! I have slain him! Ah! Ah, that I had thy falseness and could slay him!

_Michal._ David...!

_David._ Nevermore near me! never with That quivering and tenderness of lure. Those eyes that hold infinity of fate, That breathing cassia-sweet, but sorcery!

_Michal._ Oh ...

_David._ Never thy presence pouring beauty, swift, And seething in the brain as frantic wine! I'll be no more enspelled of thee--Never! I will not hear thee and be wound by words Into thy wile as wide as Ashtoreth's, Back into hope, eternity of pain!

(_He goes in agony--the priest and_ ABISHAI _after._ MICHAL _stands gazing tearless before her as_ SAUL, _awakened, comes slowly from the mouth of the cave down toward her._)

CURTAIN.