At least Own—that this restlessness has given you pleasure, And that you have to thank his want of ease For what of ease you now enjoy.
Of that I am unconscious. All I could confess Were, that it does seem strange unto myself, How, in this bosom, such a pleasing calm Can suddenly succeed to such a tossing.
His countenance, his speech, his manner, has By this the satiated thee.
Satiated, I will not say—not by a good deal yet.
But satisfied the more impatient craving.
To me he will be ever dear, will ever Remain more dear than my own life; altho’ My pulse no longer flutters at his name, My heart no longer, when I think about him, Beats stronger, swifter. What have I been prating? Come, Daya, let us once more to the window Which overlooks the palms.
So that ’tis not Yet satisfied—the more impatient craving.
Now I shall see the palm-trees once again, Not him alone amid them.
This cold fit Is but the harbinger of other fevers.
Cold—cold—I am not cold; but I observe not Less willingly what I behold with calmness.
SCENE.—An Audience Room in the Sultan’s Palace.
SITTAH: SALADIN _giving directions at the door_.
Here, introduce the Jew, whene’er he comes— He seems in no great haste.
With weapons that I have not learnt to wield. Must I disguise myself? I use precautions? I lay a snare? When, where gained I that knowledge? And this, for what? To fish for money—money— For money from a Jew—and to such arts Must Saladin descend at last to come at The least of little things?
Each little thing Despised too much finds methods of revenge.
’Tis but too true. And if this Jew should prove The fair good man, as once the dervis painted—
Then difficulties cease. A snare concerns The avaricious, cautious, fearful Jew; And not the good wise man: for he is ours Without a snare. Then the delight of hearing How such a man speaks out; with what stern strength He tears the net, or with what prudent foresight He one by one undoes the tangled meshes; That will be all to boot—
What then should trouble thee? For if he be One of the many only, a mere Jew, You will not blush to such a one to seem A man, as he thinks all mankind to be. One, that to him should bear a better aspect, Would seem a fool—a dupe.
So that I must Act badly, lest the bad think badly of me.