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?
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?