WOUNDED SOLDIER:
This signet of my lord, her amulet!
Lost, lost! Ah, noble lady,—let
me die
With this upon my breast.
[The tent is dark. Enter NAAMAN and his company in haste, with torches.]
NAAMAN:
What
bloody work
Is here? God, let me live to punish
him
Who wrought this horror! Treacherously
slain
At night, by unknown hands, my brave companions:
Tsarpi, my best beloved, light of my soul,
Put out in darkness! O my broken
lamp
Of life, where art thou? Nay, I
cannot find her.
WOUNDED SOLDIER: [Raising himself on his arm.]
Master!
NAAMAN: [Kneels beside him.]
One
living? Quick, a torch this way!
Lift up his head,—so,—carefully!
Courage, my friend, your captain is beside
you.
Call back your soul and make report to
him.
WOUNDED SOLDIER:
Hail, captain! O my captain,—here!
NAAMAN:
Be patient,—rest in peace,—the
fight is done.
Nothing remains but render your account.
WOUNDED SOLDIER:
They fell upon us suddenly,—we
fought
Our fiercest,—every man,—our
lady fought
Fiercer than all. They beat us down,—she’s
gone.
Rezon has carried her away a captive.
See,—
Her amulet,—I die for you,
my captain.
NAAMAN: [He gently lays the dead soldier on
the ground, and rises.]
Farewell. This last report was brave;
but strange
Beyond my thought! How came the
High Priest here?
And what is this? my chain, my seal!
But this
Has never been in Tsarpi’s hand.
I gave
This signet to a captive maid one night,—
A maid of Israel. How long ago?
Ruahmah was her name,—almost
forgotten!
So long ago,—how comes this
token here?
What is this mystery, Saballidin?
SABALLIDIN:
Ruahmah is her name who brought you hither.
NAAMAN:
Where then is Tsarpi?
SABALLIDIN:
In
Damascus.
She left you when the curse of Rimmon
fell,—
Took refuge in his House,—and
there she waits
Her lord’s return,—Rezon’s
return.
NAAMAN:
’Tis
false!
SABALLIDIN:
The falsehood is in her. She hath
been friend
With Rezon in his priestly plot to win
Assyria’s favour,—friend
to his design
To sell his country to enrich his temple,—
And friend to him in more,—I
will not name it.
NAAMAN:
Nor will I credit it. Impossible!
SABALLIDIN:
Did she not plead with you against the
war,
Counsel surrender, seek to break your
will?
NAAMAN:
She did not love my work, a soldier’s
task.
She never seemed to be at one with me
Until I was a leper.
SABALLIDIN:
From
whose hand
Did you receive the sacred cup?