Scene VI.--_The_ Templar _and_ Daja.

(_She has been watching him from afar and now approaches_.)

DAJA.

Methinks the monk left him in no good mood, But, spite of that, I must my errand risk.

TEMPLAR.

This hits exactly. As the proverb goes, Women and monks are ever Satan's tools, And I to-day am subject to them both.

DAJA.

Whom do I see? Thank God, our noble knight. Where have you been so long? Not ill, I hope?

TEMPLAR.

No.

DAJA.

In good health?

TEMPLAR.

Yes.

DAJA.

We have all been grieved Lest something should have ailed you. Have you been Upon a journey?

TEMPLAR.

Fairly guessed.

DAJA.

Since when Have you returned to us?

TEMPLAR.

Since yesterday.

DAJA.

Our Recha's father, too, is just returned, And now may Recha hope at last.

TEMPLAR.

For what?

DAJA.

For what she has so often asked in vain. Her father pressingly invites you too. He lately has arrived from Babylon With twenty camels, bearing precious stones, And stuffs and fragrant spices, which he sought In India, Persia, Syria, and China.

TEMPLAR.

I am no merchant.

DAJA.

He is much esteemed By all his nation--honoured as a prince-- And yet to hear how he is named by all Nathan _the Wise_, and not _the Rich_, seems strange. It often makes me wonder.

TEMPLAR.

But to them It may be, _wise_ and rich--both mean the same.

DAJA.

It seems to me he should be called _the Good_, So rich a store of goodness dwells in him. Since he has learned the weighty debt he owes For service done to Recha there is nought He would withhold from you.

TEMPLAR.

Well?

DAJA.

Try him, sir!

TEMPLAR.

What then? A moment passes soon away.

DAJA.

I had not dwelt with him so many years Were he less kind. I know a Christian's worth, And it was never o'er my cradle sung That I to Palestine should wend my way, Following a husband's steps, to educate A Jewish maid. My husband was a page, A noble page, in Emperor Frederick's court----

TEMPLAR.

By birth a Swiss, who earned the sorry fame Of drowning in one river with his lord. Woman! how often have you told this tale? When will you cease to persecute me thus?

DAJA.

To persecute you!

TEMPLAR.

Ay, to persecute! Now mark me. I will never see you more, Hear you, nor be reminded of a deed Performed at random. When I think of it, I wonder somewhat, though I ne'er repent. But hear me still. Should such a fatal chance Again occur, you have yourself to blame If I proceed more calmly, question first. And let what's burning, burn.

DAJA.

Great God forbid!

TEMPLAR.

And now I have a favour to implore. Know me henceforth no more. Grant me this grace, And save me from her father; for with me A Jew's a Jew; a Swabian blunt am I. The image of the maid is now erased Out of my soul--if it was ever there.

DAJA.

But yours remains with her.

TEMPLAR.

Well, and what then?

DAJA.

Who knows? Men are not always what they seem.

TEMPLAR.

They're seldom better. (_Going_.)

DAJA.

Stay a little while. What need of haste?

TEMPLAR.

Woman! forbear to make These palm--trees odious: I have loved their shade.

DAJA.

Then go, thou German bear! Yet I must follow him. (_She follow him at a distance_.)