The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing Part 80

Of him! What him?

DAJA.

Of him who from the flames preserved her life.

NATHAN.

And who was he? Where is he? Name the man Who saved my Recha?

DAJA.

A young Templar he!

Brought hither captive lately, and restored To freedom by the Sultan.

NATHAN.

How? A Templar?

A captive, too, and pardoned by the Sultan?

Could not my Recha's life have been preserved By some less wondrous miracle? O G.o.d!

DAJA.

But for this stranger's help, who risked afresh The life so unexpectedly restored, Recha had surely perished.

NATHAN.

Where is he?

Where is this n.o.ble youth? Where is he, Daja?

Oh, lead me to his feet! But you already Have surely lavished on him all the wealth That I had left behind; have given him all-- And promised more, much more.

DAJA.

How could we, Nathan?

NATHAN.

Why not?

DAJA.

He came we know not whence, he went We know not whither. To the house a stranger, And guided by his ear alone, he rushed With fearless daring through the smoke and flame, His mantle spread before him, till he reached The spot whence issued piercing screams for help.

We thought him lost; when, bursting through the fire, He stood before us, bearing in his arms Her almost lifeless form. Unmoved and cold, Deaf to our cries of thanks, he left his prize, Pa.s.sed through the wondering crowd, and disappeared.

NATHAN.

But not for ever, Daja, I would hope.

DAJA.

For some days after, 'neath yon spreading palms, Which wave above our blest Redeemer's grave, We saw him pacing thoughtful to and fro.

With transport I approached to speak my thanks.

I pleaded, begged, entreated that for once, Once only, he would see the grateful maid, Who longed to shed at her preserver's feet Her tears of grat.i.tude.

NATHAN.

Well?

DAJA.

All in vain!

Deaf to my warmest prayers, he poured on me Such bitter taunts----

NATHAN.

That you withdrew dismayed.

DAJA.

Far otherwise. I sought to meet him daily, And daily heard his harsh insulting words.

Much have I borne, and would have borne still more; But lately he has ceased his lonely walk Beneath the spreading palms that shade the grave Of Him who rose from death; and no man knows Where he may now be found. You seem surprised.

NATHAN.

I was considering how such a scene Must work upon a mind like Recha's. Scorned By one whom she can never cease to prize; Repelled by one who still attracts her to him.

Her head and heart at strife! And long, full long The contest may endure, without the power To say if anger or regret shall triumph.

Should neither prove the victor, Fancy then May mingle in the fray, and turn her brain.

Then Pa.s.sion will a.s.sume fair Reason's garb, And Reason act like Pa.s.sion. Fatal change!

Such, doubtless, if I know my Recha well, Must be her fate; her mind is now unhinged.

DAJA.

But her illusions are so sweet and holy.

NATHAN.

But yet she raves!

DAJA.

The thought she clings to most, Is that the Templar was no earthly form, But her blest guardian angel, such as she From childhood fancied hovering o'er her path; Who from his veiling cloud, amid the fire Rushed to her aid in her preserver's form.

You smile incredulous. Who knows the truth?

Permit her to indulge the fond deceit, Which Christian, Jew, and Mussulman alike Agree to own. The illusion is so sweet!

NATHAN.

I love it too. But go, good Daja! go, See what she does--if I can speak with her.

This guardian angel, wilful and untamed, I'll then seek out--and if he still is pleased To sojourn here a while with us--or still Is pleased to play the knight so boorishly, I'll doubtless find him out and bring him here.