The House of Rimmon | Page 3

one too noble to suspect thy guilt! The very greatness of his generous
heart Betrays him to their hands. What can I do? Nothing,--a
slave,--hated and mocked by all My fellow-slaves! O bitter prison-life!
I smother in this black, betraying air Of lust and luxury; I faint beneath
The shadow of this House of Rimmon. God Have mercy! Lead me out
to Israel. To Israel!
[Music and laughter heard within the palace. The doors fly open and a
flood of men and women, dancers, players, flushed with wine,
dishevelled, pour down the steps, KHAMMA and NUBTA with them.
They crown the image with roses and dance around it. RUAHMAH is
discovered crouching beside the arbour. They drag her out before the
image.]
NUBTA: Look! Here's the Hebrew maid,-- She's homesick; let us
comfort her!

KHAMMA: [They put their arms around her.] Yes, dancing is the cure
for homesickness. We'll make her dance.
RUAHMAH: [She slips away.] I pray you, let me go! I cannot dance, I
do not know your measures.
KHAMMA: Then sing for us,--a song of Israel!
RUAHMAH: How can I sing the songs of Israel In this strange country?
O my heart would break With grief in every note of that dear music.
A SERVANT: A stubborn and unfriendly maid! We'll whip her.
[They circle around her, striking her with rose-branches; she sinks to
her knees, covering her face with her bare arms, which bleed.]
NUBTA: Look, look! She kneels to Rimmon, she is tamed.
RUAHMAH: [Springing up and lifting her arms.] Nay, not to this
dumb idol, but to Him Who made Orion and the seven stars!
ALL: She raves,--she mocks at Rimmon! Punish her! The fountain!
Wash her blasphemy away!
[They push her toward the fountain, laughing and shouting. In the open
door of the palace NAAMAN appears, dressed in blue and silver,
bareheaded and unarmed. He comes to the top of the steps and stands
for a moment, astonished and angry.]
NAAMAN: Silence! What drunken rout is this? Begone, Ye barking
dogs and mewing cats! Out, all! Poor child, what have they done to
thee?
[Exeunt all except RUAHMAH, who stands with her face covered by
her hands. NAAMAN comes to her, laying his hand on her shoulder.]
RUAHMAH: [Looking up in his face.] Nothing, My lord and master!
They have harmed me not.

NAAMAN: [Touching her arm.] Dost call this nothing?
RUAHMAH: Since my lord is come.
NAAMAN: I do not know thy face,--who art thou, child?
RUAHMAH: The handmaid of thy wife. These three years past I have
attended her.
NAAMAN: Whence comest thou? Thy voice is like thy mistress, but
thy looks Have something foreign. Tell thy name, thy land.
RUAHMAH: Ruahmah is my name, a captive maid, The daughter of a
prince in Israel,-- Where once, in olden days, I saw my lord Ride
through our highlands, when Samaria Was allied with Damascus to
defeat Asshur, our common foe.
NAAMAN: O glorious days, Crowded with life! And thou
rememberest them?
RUAHMAH: As clear as yesterday! Master, I saw Thee riding on a
snow-white horse beside Our king; and all we joyful little maids
Strewed boughs of palm along the victors' way; For you had driven out
the enemy, Broken; and both our lands were friends and free.
NAAMAN: [Sadly.] Well, they are past, those noble days! The friends
That fought for freedom stand apart, rivals For Asshur's favour, like
two jealous dogs That snarl and bite each other, while they wait The
master's whip, enforcing peace. The days When nations would imperil
all to keep Their liberties, are only memories now. The common cause
is lost,--and thou art brought, The captive of some mercenary raid,
Some profitable, honourless foray, To serve within my house. Dost
thou fare well?
RUAHMAH: Master, thou seest.
NAAMAN: Yes, I see! My child, Why do they hate thee so?
RUAHMAH: I do not know, Unless because I will not bow to

Rimmon.
NAAMAN: Thou needest not. I fear he is a god Who pities not his
people, will not save. My heart is sick with doubt of him. But thou
Shalt hold thy faith,--I care not what it is,-- Worship thy god; but keep
thy spirit free. Here, take this chain and wear it with my seal, None
shall molest the maid who carries this. Thou hast found favour in thy
master's eyes; Hast thou no other gift to ask of me?
RUAHMAH: [Earnestly.] My lord, I do entreat thee not to go
To-morrow to the council. Seek the King And speak with him in secret;
but avoid The audience-hall.
NAAMAN; Why, what is this? Thy wits Are wandering. Why dost
thou ask this thing Impossible! My honour is engaged To speak for war,
to lead in war against The Assyrian Bull and save Damascus.
RUAHMAH: [With confused