ACT IV

_Enter_ DJABAL.

_Dja._ Let me but slay the Prefect. The end now! To-morrow will be time enough to pry Into the means I took: suffice, they served, Ignoble as they were, to hurl revenge True to its object. [_Seeing the robe, etc. disposed._ Mine should never so Have hurried to accomplishment! Thee, Djabal, Far other mood befitted! Calm the Robe Should clothe this doom's awarder! [_Taking the robe._] Shall I dare Assume my nation's Robe? I am at least A Druse again, chill Europe's policy Drops from me: I dare take the Robe. Why not The Tiar? I rule the Druses, and what more Betokens it than rule?--yet--yet-- [_Lays down the tiar._ [_Footsteps in the alcove_.] He comes! [_Taking the sword._ If the Sword serve, let the Tiar lie! So, feet Clogged with the blood of twenty years can fall Thus lightly! Round me, all ye ghosts! He'll lift ... Which arm to push the arras wide?--or both? Stab from the neck down to the heart--there stay! Near he comes--nearer--the next footstep! Now! [_As he dashes aside the arras_, ANAEL _is discovered_. Ha! Anael! Nay, my Anael, can it be? Heard you the trumpet? I must slay him here, And here you ruin all. Why speak you not? Anael, the Prefect comes! [ANAEL _screams_.] So slow to feel 'T is not a sight for you to look upon? A moment's work--but such work! Till you go, I must be idle--idle, I risk all! [_Pointing to her hair._ Those locks are well, and you are beauteous thus, But with the dagger 't is, I have to do!

_An._ With mine!

_Dja._ Blood--Anael?

_An._ Djabal, 't is thy deed! It must be! I had hoped to claim it mine-- Be worthy thee--but I must needs confess 'T was not I, but thyself ... not I have ... Djabal! Speak to me!

_Dja._ Oh my punishment!

_An._ Speak to me While I can speak! touch me, despite the blood! When the command passed from thy soul to mine, I went, fire leading me, muttering of thee, And the approaching exaltation,--"make One sacrifice!" I said,--and he sat there, Bade me approach; and, as I did approach, Thy fire with music burst into my brain. 'T was but a moment's work, thou saidst--perchance It may have been so! Well, it is thy deed!

_Dja._ It is my deed!

_An._ His blood all this!--this! and ... And more! Sustain me, Djabal! Wait not--now Let flash thy glory! Change thyself and me! It must be! Ere the Druses flock to us! At least confirm me! Djabal, blood gushed forth-- He was our tyrant--but I looked he'd fall Prone as asleep--why else is death called sleep? Sleep? He bent o'er his breast! 'T is sin, I know,-- Punish me, Djabal, but wilt thou let him? Be it thou that punishest, not he--who creeps On his red breast--is here! 'T is the small groan Of a child--no worse! Bestow the new life, then! Too swift it cannot be, too strange, surpassing! [_Following him up as he retreats._ Now! Change us both! Change me and change thou!

_Dja._ [_Sinks on his knees._] Thus! Behold my change! You have done nobly. I!--

_An._ Can Hakeem kneel?

_Dja._ No Hakeem, and scarce Djabal! I have dealt falsely, and this woe is come. No--hear me ere scorn blast me! Once and ever, The deed is mine! Oh think upon the past!

_An._ [_To herself._] Did I strike once, or twice, or many times?

_Dja._ I came to lead my tribe where, bathed in glooms, Doth Bahumid the Renovator sleep: Anael, I saw my tribe: I said, "Without A miracle this cannot be"--I said "Be there a miracle!"--for I saw you!

_An._ His head lies south the portal!

_Dja._ --Weighed with this The general good, how could I choose my own? What matter was my purity of soul? Little by little I engaged myself-- Heaven would accept me for its instrument, I hoped: I said Heaven had accepted me!

_An._ Is it this blood breeds dreams in me?--Who said You were not Hakeem? And your miracles-- The fire that plays innocuous round your form? [_Again changing her whole manner._ Ah, thou wouldst try me--thou art Hakeem still!

_Dja._ Woe--woe! As if the Druses of the Mount (Scarce Arabs, even there, but here, in the Isle, Beneath their former selves) should comprehend The subtle lore of Europe! A few secrets That would not easily affect the meanest Of the crowd there, could wholly subjugate The best of our poor tribe. Again that eye?

_An._ [_After a pause springs to his neck._] Djabal, in this there can be no deceit! Why, Djabal, were you human only,--think, Maani is but human, Khalil human, Loys is human even--did their words Haunt me, their looks pursue me? Shame on you So to have tried me! Rather, shame on me So to need trying! Could I, with the Prefect And the blood, there--could I see only you? --Hang by your neck over this gulf of blood? Speak, I am saved! Speak, Djabal! Am I saved? [_As_ DJABAL _slowly unclasps her arms, and puts her silently from him_. Hakeem would save me! Thou art Djabal! Crouch! Bow to the dust, thou basest of our kind! The pile of thee, I reared up to the cloud-- Full, midway, of our fathers' trophied tombs, Based on the living rock, devoured not by The unstable desert's jaws of sand,--falls prone! Fire, music, quenched: and now thou liest there A ruin, obscene creatures will moan through! --Let us come, Djabal!

_Dja._ Whither come?

_An._ At once-- Lest so it grow intolerable. Come! Will I not share it with thee? Best at once! So, feel less pain! Let them deride,--thy tribe Now trusting in thee,--Loys shall deride! Come to them, hand in hand, with me!

_Dja._ Where come?

_An._ Where?--to the Druses thou hast wronged! Confess, Now that the end is gained--(I love thee now--) That thou hast so deceived them--(perchance love thee Better than ever!) Come, receive their doom Of infamy! Oh, best of all I love thee! Shame with the man, no triumph with the God, Be mine! Come!

_Dja._ Never! More shame yet? and why? Why? You have called this deed mine--it is mine! And with it I accept its circumstance. How can I longer strive with fate? The past Is past: my false life shall henceforth show true. Hear me! The argosies touch land by this; They bear us to fresh scenes and happier skies: What if we reign together?--if we keep Our secret for the Druses' good?--by means Of even their superstition, plant in them New life? I learn from Europe: all who seek Man's good must awe man, by such means as these. We two will be divine to them--we are! All great works in this world spring from the ruins Of greater projects--ever, on our earth, Babels men block out, Babylons they build. I wrest the weapon from your hand! I claim The deed! Retire! You have my ring--you bar All access to the Nuncio till the forces From Venice land!

_An._ Thou wilt feign Hakeem then?

_Dja._ [_Putting the Tiara of Hakeem, on his head_.] And from this moment that I dare ope wide Eyes that till now refused to see, begins My true dominion: for I know myself, And what am I to personate. No word? [ANAEL _goes_. 'T is come on me at last! His blood on her-- What memories will follow that! Her eye, Her fierce distorted lip and ploughed black brow! Ah, fool! Has Europe then so poorly tamed The Syrian blood from out thee? Thou, presume To work in this foul earth by means not foul? Scheme, as for heaven,--but, on the earth, be glad If a least ray like heaven's be left thee! Thus I shall be calm--in readiness--no way Surprised. [_A noise without._ This should be Khalil and my Druses. Venice is come then! Thus I grasp thee, sword! Druses, 't is Hakeem saves you! In! Behold Your Prefect!

(_Enter_ LOYS. DJABAL _hides the khandjar in his robe_.)

_Loys._ Oh, well found, Djabal!--but no time for words. You know who waits there? [_Pointing to the alcove._ Well!--and that 't is there He meets the Nuncio? Well? Now, a surprise-- He there--

_Dja._ I know--

_Loys._ --is now no mortal's lord, Is absolutely powerless--call him, dead-- He is no longer Prefect--you are Prefect! Oh, shrink not! I do nothing in the dark, Nothing unworthy Breton blood, believe! I understood at once your urgency That I should leave this isle for Rhodes; I felt What you were loath to speak--your need of help. I have fulfilled the task, that earnestness Imposed on me: have, face to face, confronted The Prefect in full Chapter, charged on him The enormities of his long rule; he stood Mute, offered no defence, no crime denied. On which, I spoke of you, and of your tribe, Your faith so like our own, and all you urged Of old to me--I spoke, too, of your goodness, Your patience--brief, I hold henceforth the Isle In charge, am nominally lord,--but you, You are associated in my rule-- Are the true Prefect! Ay, such faith had they In my assurance of your loyalty (For who insults an imbecile old man?) That we assume the Prefecture this hour! You gaze at me? Hear greater wonders yet-- I cast down all the fabric I have built! These Knights, I was prepared to worship ... but Of that another time; what's now to say, Is--I shall never be a Knight! Oh, Djabal, Here first I throw all prejudice aside, And call you brother! I am Druse like you: My wealth, my friends, my power, are wholly yours, Your people's, which is now my people: for There is a maiden of your tribe, I love-- She loves me--Khalil's sister--

_Dja._ Anael?

_Loys._ Start you? Seems what I say, unknightly? Thus it chanced: When first I came, a novice, to the isle ...

(_Enter one of the_ NUNCIO'S Guards _from the alcove_.)

_Guard._ Oh horrible! Sir Loys! Here is Loys! And here-- [_Others enter from the alcove._ [_Pointing to_ DJABAL.] Secure him, bind him--this is he! [_They surround_ DJABAL.

_Loys._ Madmen--what is 't you do? Stand from my friend, And tell me!

_Guard._ Thou canst have no part in this-- Surely no part! But slay him not! The Nuncio Commanded, slay him not!

_Loys._ Speak, or ...

_Guard._ The Prefect Lies murdered there by him thou dost embrace.

_Loys._ By Djabal? Miserable fools! How Djabal?

[_A_ Guard _lifts_ DJABAL'S _robe;_ DJABAL _flings down the khandjar_.

_Loys._ [_After a pause._] Thou hast received some insult worse than all, Some outrage not to be endured-- [_To the_ Guards.] Stand back! He is my friend--more than my friend! Thou hast Slain him upon that provocation!

_Guard._ No! No provocation! 'T is a long devised Conspiracy: the whole tribe is involved. He is their Khalif--'t is on that pretence-- Their mighty Khalif who died long ago, And now comes back to life and light again! All is just now revealed, I know not how, By one of his confederates--who, struck With horror at this murder, first apprised The Nuncio. As 't was said, we find this Djabal Here where we take him.

_Dja._ [_Aside_.] Who broke faith with me?

_Loys._ [_To_ DJABAL.] Hear'st thou? Speak! Till thou speak I keep off these, Or die with thee. Deny this story! Thou A Khalif, an impostor? Thou, my friend, Whose tale was of an inoffensive tribe, With ... but thou know'st--on that tale's truth I pledged My faith before the Chapter: what art thou?

_Dja._ Loys, I am as thou hast heard. All 's true! No more concealment! As these tell thee, all Was long since planned. Our Druses are enough To crush this handful: the Venetians land Even now in our behalf. Loys, we part! Thou, serving much, wouldst fain have served me more; It might not be. I thank thee. As thou hearest, We are a separated tribe: farewell!

_Loys._ Oh, where will truth be found now? Canst thou so Belie the Druses? Do they share thy crime? Those thou professest of our Breton stock, Are partners with thee? Why, I saw but now Khalil, my friend--he spoke with me--no word Of this! and Anael--whom I love, and who Loves me--she spoke no word of this!

_Dja._ Poor boy! Anael, who loves thee? Khalil, fast thy friend? We, offsets from a wandering Count of Dreux? No: older than the oldest, princelier Than Europe's princeliest race, our tribe: enough For thine, that on our simple faith we found A monarchy to shame your monarchies At their own trick and secret of success. The child of this our tribe shall laugh upon The palace-step of him whose life ere night Is forfeit, as that child shall know, and yet Shall laugh there! What, we Druses wait forsooth The kind interposition of a boy --Can only save ourselves if thou concede? --Khalil admire thee? He is my right hand, My delegate!--Anael accept thy love? She is my bride!

_Loys._ Thy bride? She one of them?

_Dja._ My bride!

_Loys._ And she retains her glorious eyes! She, with those eyes, has shared this miscreant's guilt! Ah--who but she directed me to find Djabal within the Prefect's chamber? Khalil Bade me seek Djabal there, too! All is truth! What spoke the Prefect worse of them than this? Did the Church ill to institute long since Perpetual warfare with such serpentry? And I--have I desired to shift my part, Evade my share in her design? 'T is well!

_Dja._ Loys, I wronged thee--but unwittingly: I never thought there was in thee a virtue That could attach itself to what thou deemest A race below thine own. I wronged thee, Loys, But that is over: all is over now, Save the protection I ensure against My people's anger. By their Khalif's side, Thou art secure and may'st depart: so, come!

_Loys._ Thy side? I take protection at thy hand?

(_Enter other_ Guards.)

_Guards._ Fly with him! Fly, Sir Loys! 'T is too true! And only by his side thou may'st escape! The whole tribe is in full revolt: they flock About the palace--will be here--on thee-- And there are twenty of us, we the Guards O' the Nuncio, to withstand them! Even we Had stayed to meet our death in ignorance, But that one Druse, a single faithful Druse, Made known the horror to the Nuncio. Fly! The Nuncio stands aghast. At least let us Escape thy wrath, O Hakeem! We are naught In thy tribe's persecution! [_To_ LOYS.] Keep by him! They hail him Hakeem, their dead Prince returned: He is their God, they shout, and at his beck Are life and death!

[LOYS, _springing at the khandjar_ DJABAL _had thrown down, seizes him by the throat_. Thus by his side am I! Thus I resume my knighthood and its warfare, Thus end thee, miscreant, in thy pride of place! Thus art thou caught. Without, thy dupes may cluster. Friends aid thee, foes avoid thee,--thou art Hakeem, How say they?--God art thou! but also here Is the least, youngest, meanest the Church calls Her servant, and his single arm avails To aid her as she lists. I rise, and thou Art crushed! Hordes of thy Druses flock without: Here thou hast me, who represent the Cross, Honor and Faith, 'gainst Hell, Mahound and thee. Die! [DJABAL _remains calm_.] Implore my mercy, Hakeem, that my scorn May help me! Nay, I cannot ply thy trade; I am no Druse, no stabber: and thine eye, Thy form, are too much as they were--my friend Had such! Speak! Beg for mercy at my foot! [[DJABAL _still silent_. Heaven could not ask so much of me--not, sure, So much! I cannot kill him so! [_After a pause._] Thou art Strong in thy cause, then--dost outbrave us, then. Heardst thou that one of thine accomplices, Thy very people, has accused thee? Meet His charge! Thou hast not even slain the Prefect As thy own vile creed warrants. Meet that Druse! Come with me and disprove him--be thou tried By him, nor seek appeal! Promise me this, Or I will do God's office! What, shalt thou Boast of assassins at thy beck, yet truth Want even an executioner? Consent, Or I will strike--look in my face--I will!

_Dja._ Give me again my khandjar, if thou darest! [LOYS _gives it_. Let but one Druse accuse me, and I plunge This home. A Druse betray me? Let us go! [_Aside._] Who has betrayed me? [_Shouts without._ Hearest thou? I hear No plainer than long years ago I heard That shout--but in no dream now! They return! Wilt thou be leader with me, Loys? Well!