The House of Rimmon

at the thought. Naaman

Why, what is this?
Why shouldst thou tremble? Art thou not mine own?

Ruahmah

Turning to him.

Surely I am! But take me, take me now!
For I belong to thee in body and soul;
The very pulses of my heart are thine.
Wilt thou not feel how tenderly they beat?
Wilt thou not lie like myrrh between my breasts
And satisfy thy lonely lips with love?
Thou art opprest, and I would comfort thee
While yet thy sorrow weighs upon thy life.
Tomorrow? No, today! The crown of love
Is sacrifice; I have not given thee
Enough! Ah, fold me in thine arms⁠—take all!

She takes his hands and puts them around her neck; he holds her from him, with one hand on her shoulder, the other behind her head. Naaman

Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss⁠—
Too dear for me to stain thy purity,
Or leave one touch upon thee to regret!
How should I take a gift may bankrupt thee,
Or drain the fragrant chalice of thy love
With lips that may be fatal? Tempt me not
To sweet dishonour; strengthen me to wait
Until thy prophecy is all fulfilled,
And I can claim thee with a joyful heart.

Ruahmah

Turning away.

Thou wilt not need me then⁠—and I shall be
No more than the faint echo of a song
Heard half asleep. We shall go back to where
We stood before this journey.

Naaman

Never again!
For thou art changed by some deep miracle.
The flower of womanhood hath bloomed in thee⁠—
Art thou not changed?

Ruahmah

Yea, I am changed⁠—and changed
Again⁠—bewildered⁠—till there’s nothing clear
To me but this: I am the instrument
In an Almighty hand to rescue thee
From death. This will I do⁠—and afterward⁠—

A trumpet is blown, without.

Hearken, the trumpet sounds, the chariot waits.
Away, dear lord, follow the road to light!

Scene II1

The house of Elisha, upon a terraced hillside. A low stone cottage with vine-trellises and flowers; a flight of steps, at the foot of which is Naaman’s chariot. He is standing in it; Saballidin beside it. Two soldiers come down the steps.

First Soldier	We have delivered my lord’s greeting and his message.
Second Solider	Yes, and near lost our noses in the doing of it! For the servant slammed the door in our faces. A most unmannerly reception!
First Soldier	But I take that as a good omen. It is mark of holy men to keep ill-conditioned servants. Look, the door opens, the prophet is coming.
Second Soldier	No, by my head, it’s that notable mark of his master’s holiness, that same lantern-jawed lout of a servant.
	Gehazi loiters down the steps and comes to Naaman with a slight obeisance.
Gehazi	My master, the prophet of Israel, sends word to Naaman the Syrian⁠—are you he?⁠—“Go wash in Jordan seven times and be healed.”
	Gehazi turns and goes slowly up the steps.
Naaman	What insolence is this? Am I a man To be put off with surly messengers? Has not Damascus rivers more renowned Than this rude, torrent Jordan? Crystal streams, Abana! Pharpar! flowing smoothly through A paradise of roses? Might I not Have bathed in them and been restored at ease? Come up, Saballidin, and guide me home!
Saballidin	Bethink thee, master, shall we lose our quest Because a servant is uncouth? The road That seeks the mountain leads us through the vale. The prophet’s word is friendly after all; For had it been some mighty task he set, Thou wouldst perform it. How much rather then This easy one? Hast thou not promised her Who waits for thy return? Wilt thou go back To her unhealed?
Naaman	No! not for all my pride! I’ll make myself most humble for her sake, And stoop to anything that gives me hope Of having her. Make haste, Saballidin, Bring me to Jordan. I will cast myself Into that river’s turbulent embrace A hundred times, until I save my life Or lose it!
	Exeunt. The light fades: musical interlude. The light increases again with ruddy sunset shining on the door of Elisha’s house. The prophet appears and looks off, shading his eyes with his hand as he descends the steps slowly. Trumpet blows⁠—Naaman’s call;⁠—sound of horses galloping and men shouting. Naaman enters joyously, followed by Saballidin and soldiers, with gifts.
	Behold a man delivered from the grave By thee! I rose from Jordan’s waves restored To youth and vigour, as the eagle mounts Upon the sunbeam and renews his strength! O mighty prophet deign to take from me These gifts too poor to speak my gratitude; Silver and gold and jewels, damask robes⁠—
Elisha	Interrupting. As thy soul liveth I will not receive A gift from thee, my son! Give all to Him Whose mercy hath redeemed thee from thy plague.
Naaman	He is the only God! I worship Him! Grant me a portion of the blessed soil Of this most favoured land where I have found His mercy; in Damascus will I build An altar to His name, and praise Him there Morning and night. There is no other God In all the world.
Elisha	Thou needest not This load of earth to build a shrine for Him; Yet take it if thou wilt. But be assured God’s altar is in every loyal heart, And every flame of love that kindles there Ascends to Him and brightens with His praise. There is no other God! But evil Powers Make war against Him in the darkened world; And many temples have been built to them.
Naaman	I know them well! Yet when my master goes To worship in the House of Rimmon, I Must enter with him; for he trusts me, leans Upon my hand; and when he bows himself I cannot help but make obeisance too⁠— But not to Rimmon! To my country’s king I’ll bow in love and honour. Will the Lord Pardon thy servant in this thing?
Elisha	My son, Peace has been granted thee. ’Tis thine to find The only way to keep it. Go in peace.
Naaman	Thou hast not answered me⁠—may I bow down?
Elisha	The answer must be thine. The heart that knows The perfect peace of gratitude and love, Walks in the light and needs no other rule. Take counsel with thy heart and go in peace!
	Curtain.