The House of Rimmon | Page 9

corpses of the selfsame death Down the long path to a forgotten tomb. Avoid, depart, I do adjure you all, Leave him to god,--the leper Naaman!
[All shrink back horrified. REZON retires into the temple; the crowd melts away, wailing: TSARPI is among the first to go, followed by her attendants, except RUAHMAH, who crouches, with her face covered, not far from NAAMAN.]
BENHADAD: [Lingering and turning back.] Alas, my son! O Naaman, my son! Why did I let thee go? Thou art cast out Irrevocably from the city's life Which thou hast saved. Who can resist the gods? I must obey the law, and touch thy hand Never again. Yet none shall take from thee Thy glorious title, captain of my host! I will provide for thee, and thou shalt dwell With guards of honour in a house of mine Always. Damascus never shall forget What thou hast done! O miserable words Of crowned impotence! O mockery of power Given to kings, who cannot even defend Their dearest from the secret wrath of heaven! Naaman, my son, my son! [Exit.]
NAAMAN: [Slowly, passing his hand over his eyes, and looking up.] Am I alone With thee, inexorable one, whose pride Offended takes this horrible revenge? I must submit my mortal flesh to thee, Almighty, but I will not call thee god! Yet thou hast found the way to wound my soul Most deeply through the flesh; and I must find The way to let my wounded soul escape!
[Drawing his sword.]
Come, my last friend, thou art more merciful Than Rimmon. Why should I endure the doom He sends me? Irretrievably cut off From all dear intercourse of human love, From all the tender touch of human hands, From all brave comradeship with brother-men, With eyes that see no faces through this dark, With ears that hear all voices far away, Why should I cling to misery, and grope My long, long way from pain to pain, alone?
RUAHMAH: [At his feet.] Nay, not alone, dear lord, for I am here; And I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee!
NAAMAN: What voice is that? The silence of my tomb Is broken by a ray of music,--whose?
RUAHMAH: [Rising.] The one who loves thee best in all the world.
NAAMAN: Why that should be,--O dare I dream it true? Tsarpi, my wife? Have I misjudged thy heart As cold and proud? How nobly thou forgivest! Thou com'st to hold me from the last disgrace,-- The coward's flight into the dark. Go back Unstained, my sword! Life is endurable While there is one alive on earth who loves us,
RUAHMAH: My lord,--my lord,--O listen! You have erred,-- You do mistake me now,--this dream--
NAAMAN: Ah, wake me not! For I can conquer death Dreaming this dream. Let me at last believe, Though gods are cruel, a woman can be kind. Grant me but this! For see,--I ask so little,-- Only to know that thou art faithful,-- Only to lean upon the thought that thou, My wife, art near me, though I touch thee not,-- O this will hold me up, though it be given From pity more than love.
RUAHMAH: [Trembling, and speaking slowly.] Not so, my lord! My pity is a stream; my pride of thee Is like the sea that doth engulf the stream; My love for thee is like the sovran moon That rules the sea. The tides that fill my soul Flow unto thee and follow after thee; And where thou goest I will go; and where Thou diest I will die,--in the same hour.
[She lays her hand on his arm. He draws back.]
NAAMAN: O touch me not! Thou shall not share my doom.
RUAHMAH: Entreat me not to go. I will obey In all but this; but rob me not of this,-- The only boon that makes life worth the living,-- To walk beside thee day by day, and keep Thy foot from stumbling; to prepare thy food When thou art hungry, music for thy rest, And cheerful words to comfort thy black hour; And so to lead thee ever on, and on, Through darkness, till we find the door of hope.
NAAMAN: What word is that? The leper has no hope.
RUAHMAH: Dear lord, the mark upon thy brow is yet No broader than my little finger-nail. Thy force is not abated, and thy step Is firm. Wilt thou surrender to the enemy Before thy strength is touched? Why, let me put A drop of courage from my breast in thine. There is a hope for thee. The captive maid Of Israel who dwelt within thy house Knew of a god very compassionate, Long-suffering, slow to anger, one who heals The sick, hath pity on the fatherless, And saves the poor and him who has no helper. His prophet dwells nigh to Samaria; And I have heard that he