Chapter 4

_NAAMAN'S tent, on high ground among the mountains near Samaria: the city below. In the distance, a wide and splendid landscape. SABALLIDIN and soldiers on guard below the tent. Enter RUAHMAH in hunter's dress, with a lute slung from her shoulder._

RUAHMAH: Peace and good health to you, Saballidin. Good morrow to you all. How fares my lord?

SABALLIDIN: The curtains of his tent are folded still: They have not moved since we returned, last night, And told him what befell us in the city.

RUAHMAH: Told him! Why did you make report to him And not to me? Am I not captain here, Intrusted by the King's command with care Of Naaman until he is restored? 'Tis mine to know the first of good or ill In this adventure: mine to shield his heart From every arrow of adversity. What have you told him? Speak!

SABALLIDIN: Lady, we feared To bring our news to you. For when the King Of Israel had read our monarch's letter, He rent his clothes, and cried, "Am I a god, To kill and make alive, that I should heal A leper? Ye have come with false pretence, Damascus seeks a quarrel with me. Go!" But when we told our lord, he closed his tent, And there remains enfolded in his grief. I trust he sleeps; 'twere kind to let him sleep! For now he doth forget his misery, And all the burden of his hopeless woe Is lifted from him by the gentle hand Of slumber. Oh, to those bereft of hope Sleep is the only blessing left,--the last Asylum of the weary, the one sign Of pity from impenetrable heaven. Waking is strife; sleep is the truce of God! Ah, lady, wake him not. The day will be Full long for him to suffer, and for us To turn our disappointed faces home On the long road by which we must return.

RUAHMAH: Return! Who gave you that command? Not I! The King made me the leader of this quest, And bound you all to follow me, because He knew I never would return without The thing for which he sent us. I'll go on Day after day, unto the uttermost parts Of earth, if need be, and beyond the gates Of morning, till I find that which I seek,-- New life for Naaman. Are ye ashamed To have a woman lead you? Then go back And tell the King, "This huntress went too far For us to follow: she pursues the trail Of hope alone, refusing to forsake The quarry: we grew weary of the chase; And so we left her and retraced our steps, Like faithless hounds, to sleep beside the fire." Did Naaman forsake his soldiers thus When you went forth to hunt the Assyrian Bull? Your manly courage is less durable Than woman's love, it seems. Go, if you will,-- Who bids me now farewell?

SOLDIERS: Not I, not I!

SABALLIDIN: Lady, lead on, we'll follow you forever!

RUAHMAH: Why, now you speak like men! Brought you no word Out of Samaria, except that cry Of impotence and fear from Israel's King?

SABALLIDIN: I do remember while he spoke with us A rustic messenger came in, and cried "Elisha saith, bring Naaman to me At Dothan, he shall surely know there is A God in Israel."

RUAHMAH: What said the King?

SABALLIDIN: He only shouted "Go!" more wildly yet, And rent his clothes again, as if he were Half-maddened by a coward's fear, and thought Only of how he might be rid of us. What comfort could there be for him, what hope For us, in the rude prophet's misty word?

RUAHMAH: It is the very word for which I prayed! My trust was not in princes; for the crown, The sceptre, and the purple robe are not Significant of vital power. The man Who saves his brother-men is he who lives His life with Nature, takes deep hold on truth, And trusts in God. A prophet's word is more Than all the kings on earth can speak. How far Is Dothan?

SOLDIER: Lady, 'tis but three hours' ride Along the valley southward.

RUAHMAH: Near! so near? I had not thought to end my task so soon! Prepare yourselves with speed to take the road. I will awake my lord.

[Exeunt all but SABALLIDIN and RUAHMAH. She goes toward the tent.]

SABALLIDIN: Ruahmah, stay! [She turns back.] I've been your servant in this doubtful quest, Obedient, faithful, loyal to your will,-- What have I earned by this?

RUAHMAH: The gratitude Of him we both desire to serve: your friend,-- My master and my lord.

SABALLIDIN: No more than this?

RUAHMAH: Yes, if you will, take all the thanks my hands Can hold, my lips can speak.

SABALLIDIN: I would have more.

RUAHMAH: My friend, there's nothing more to give to you. My service to my lord is absolute. There's not a drop of blood within my veins But quickens at the very thought of him; And not a dream of mine but he doth stand Within its heart and make it bright. No man To me is other than his friend or foe. You are his friend, and I believe you true!

SABALLIDIN: I have been true to him,--now, I am true To you.

RUAHMAH: Why, then, be doubly true to him. O let us match our loyalties, and strive Between us who shall win the higher crown! Men boast them of a friendship stronger far Than love of woman. Prove it! I'll not boast, But I'll contend with you on equal terms In this brave race: and if you win the prize I'll hold you next to him: and if I win He'll hold you next to me; and either way We'll not be far apart. Do you accept My challenge?

SABALLIDIN: Yes! For you enforce my heart By honour to resign its great desire, And love itself to offer sacrifice Of all disloyal dreams on its own altar. Yet love remains; therefore I pray you, think How surely you must lose in our contention. For I am known to Naaman: but you He blindly takes for Tsarpi. 'Tis to her He gives his gratitude: the praise you win Endears her name.

RUAHMAH: Her name? Why, what is that? A name is but an empty shell, a mask That does not change the features of the face Beneath it. Can a name rejoice, or weep, Or hope? Can it be moved by tenderness To daily services of love, or feel the warmth Of dear companionship? How many things We call by names that have no meaning! Kings That cannot rule; and gods that are not good; And wives that do not love! It matters not What syllables he utters when he calls, 'Tis I who come,--'tis I who minister Unto my lord, and mine the living heart That feels the comfort of his confidence, The thrill of gladness when he speaks to me,-- I do not hear the name!

SABALLIDIN: And yet, be sure There's danger in this error,--and no gain!

RUAHMAH: I seek no gain: I only tread the path Marked for me daily by the hand of love. And if his blindness spared my lord one pang Of sorrow in his black, forsaken hour,-- And if this error makes his burdened heart More quiet, and his shadowed way less dark, Whom do I rob? Not her who chose to stay At ease in Rimmon's House! Surely not him! Only myself! And that enriches me. Why trouble we the master? Let it go,-- To-morrow he must know the truth,--and then He shall dispose of me e'en as he will!

SABALLIDIN: To-morrow?

RUAHMAH: Yes, for I will tarry here, While you conduct him to Elisha's house To find the promised healing. I forebode A sudden danger from the craven King Of Israel, or else a secret ambush From those who hate us in Damascus. Go, But leave me twenty men: this mountain-pass Protects the road behind you. Make my lord Obey the prophet's word, whatever he commands, And come again in peace. Farewell!

[Exit SABALLIDIN. RUAHMAH goes toward the tent, then pauses and turns back. She takes her lute and sings.]

SONG

_Above the edge of dark appear the lances of the sun; Along the mountain-ridges clear his rosy heralds run; The vapours down the valley go Like broken armies, dark and low. Look up, my heart, from every hill In folds of rose and daffodil The sunrise banners flow._

_O fly away on silent wing, ye boding owls of night! O welcome little birds that sing the coming-in of light! For new, and new, and ever-new, The golden bud within the blue; And every morning seems to say: "There's something happy on the way, And God sends love to you!"_

NAAMAN: [Appearing at the entrance of his tent.] O let me ever wake to music! For the soul Returns most gently then, and finds its way By the soft, winding clue of melody, Out of the dusky labyrinth of sleep, Into the light. My body feels the sun Though I behold naught that his rays reveal. Come, thou who art my daydawn and my sight, Sweet eyes, come close, and make the sunrise mine!

RUAHMAH: [Coming near.] A fairer day, dear lord, was never born In Paradise! The sapphire cup of heaven Is filled with golden wine: the earth, adorned With jewel-drops of dew, unveils her face A joyful bride, in welcome to her king. And look! He leaps upon the Eastern hills All ruddy fire, and claims her with a kiss. Yonder the snowy peaks of Hermon float Unmoving as a wind-dropt cloud. The gulf Of Jordan, filled with violet haze, conceals The river's winding trail with wreaths of mist. Below us, marble-crowned Samaria thrones Upon her emerald hill amid the Vale Of Barley, while the plains to northward change Their colour like the shimmering necks of doves. The lark springs up, with morning on her wings, To climb her singing stairway in the blue, And all the fields are sprinkled with her joy!

NAAMAN: Thy voice is magical: thy words are visions! I must content myself with them, for now My only hope is lost: Samaria's King Rejects our monarch's message,--hast thou heard? "Am I a god that I should cure a leper?" He sends me home unhealed, with angry words, Back to Damascus and the lingering death.

RUAHMAH: What matter where he sends? No god is he To slay or make alive. Elisha bids You come to him at Dothan, there to learn There is a God in Israel.

NAAMAN: I fear That I am grown mistrustful of all gods; Their secret counsels are implacable.

RUAHMAH: Fear not! There's One who rules in righteousness High over all.

NAAMAN: What knowest thou of Him?

RUAHMAH: Oh, I have heard,--the maid of Israel,-- Rememberest thou? She often said her God Was merciful and kind, and slow to wrath, And plenteous in forgiveness, pitying us Like as a father pitieth his children.

NAAMAN: If there were such a God, I'd worship Him Forever!

RUAHMAH: Then make haste to hear the word His prophet promises to speak to thee! Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt find Healing and peace. The light shall fill thine eyes. Thou wilt not need my leading any more,-- Nor me,--for thou wilt see me, all unveiled,-- I tremble at the thought.

NAAMAN: Why, what is this? Why shouldst thou tremble? Art thou not mine own?

RUAHMAH: [Turning to him and speaking in broken words.] I am,--thy handmaid,--all and only thine,-- The very pulses of my heart are thine! Feel how they throb to comfort thee to-day-- To-day! Because it is thy time of trouble.

[She takes his hand and puts it to her forehead and her lips, but before she can lay it upon her heart, he draws away from her.]

NAAMAN: Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss,-- How should I take a gift may bankrupt thee, Or drain the fragrant chalice of thy love With lips that may be fatal? Tempt me not To sweet dishonour; strengthen me to wait Until thy prophecy is all fulfilled, And I can claim thee with a joyful heart.

RUAHMAH: [Turning away.] Thou wilt not need me then,--and I shall be No more than the faint echo of a song Heard half asleep. We shall go back to where We stood before this journey.

NAAMAN: Never again! For thou art changed by some deep miracle. The flower of womanhood hath bloomed in thee,-- Art thou not changed?

RUAHMAH: Yea, I am changed,--and changed Again,--bewildered,--till there's nothing clear To me but this: I am the instrument In an Almighty hand to rescue thee From death. This will I do,--and afterward--

[A trumpet is blown without.]

Hearken, the trumpet sounds, the chariot waits. Away, dear lord, follow the road to light!