The House of Rimmon

mistress would receive some word of him. Saballidin

Hath she not heard?

Ruahmah

But one brief message came:
A tablet saying, “We have fought and conquered,”
No word of his own person. Fares he well?

Saballidin

Alas, most ill! For he is like a man
Consumed by some strange sickness: wasted, wan⁠—
His eyes are dimmed so that scarce can see;
His ears are dulled; his fearless face is pale
As one who walks to meet a certain doom
Yet will not flinch. It is most pitiful⁠—
But you shall see.

Ruahmah

Yea, we shall see a man
Who took upon himself his country’s burden, dared
To hazard all to save the poor and helpless;
A man who bears the wrath of evil powers
Unknown, and pays the hero’s sacrifice.

Enter Benhadad with courtiers. Benhadad

Where is my faithful servant Naaman,
The captain of my host?

Saballidin

My lord, he comes.

Trumpet sounds. Enter company of soldiers in armour. Then four soldiers bearing captured standards of Asshur. Naaman follows, very pale, armour dinted and stained; he is blind, and guides himself by cords from the standards on each side, but walks firmly. The doors of the temple open slightly, and Rezon appears at the top of the steps. Naaman lets the cords fall, and gropes his way for a few paces. Naaman

Kneeling.

Where is my King?
Master, the bearer of thy sword returns.
The golden yoke thou gavest me I broke
On him who sent it. Asshur’s Bull hath fled
Dehorned. The standards of his host are thine!
Damascus is all thine, at peace, and free!

Benhadad

Holding out his arms.

Thou art a mighty man of valour! Come,
And let me fold thy courage to my heart.

Rezon

Lifting his rod.

Forbear, O King! Stand back from him, all men!
By the great name of Rimmon I proclaim
This man a leper! On his brow I see
The death-white seal, the fingerprint of doom!
That tiny spot will spread, eating his flesh,
Gnawing his fingers bone from bone, until
The impious heart that dared defy the gods
Dissolves in the slow death which now begins.
Unclean! unclean! Henceforward he is dead:
No human hand shall touch him, and no home
Of men shall give him shelter. He shall walk
Only with corpses of the selfsame death
Down the long path to a forgotten tomb.
Avoid, depart, I do adjure you all,
Leave him to god⁠—the leper Naaman!

All shrink back horrified. Rezon retires into the temple; the crowd melts away, wailing: Tsarpi is among the first to go, followed by her attendants, except Ruahmah, who crouches, with her face covered, not far from Naaman. Benhadad

Lingering and turning back.

Alas, my son! O Naaman, my son!
Why did I let thee go? Thou art cast out
Irrevocably from the city’s life
Which thou hast saved. Who can resist the gods?
I must obey the law, and touch thy hand
Never again. Yet none shall take from thee
Thy glorious title, captain of my host!
I will provide for thee, and thou shalt dwell
With guards of honour in a house of mine
Always. Damascus never shall forget
What thou hast done! O miserable words
Of crowned impotence! O mockery of power
Given to kings, who cannot even defend
Their dearest from the secret wrath of heaven!
Naaman, my son, my son!

Exit. Naaman

Slowly, passing his hand over his eyes, and looking up.

Am I alone
With thee, inexorable one, whose pride
Offended takes this horrible revenge?
I must submit my mortal flesh to thee,
Almighty, but I will not call thee god!
Yet thou hast found the way to wound my soul
Most deeply through the flesh; and I must find
The way to let my wounded soul escape!

Drawing his sword.

Come, my last friend, thou art more merciful
Than Rimmon. Why should I endure the doom
He sends me? Irretrievably cut off
From all dear intercourse of human love,
From all the tender touch of human hands,
From all brave comradeship with brother-men,
With eyes that see no faces through this dark,
With ears that hear all voices far away,
Why should I cling to misery, and grope
My long, long way from pain to pain, alone?

Ruahmah

At his feet.

Nay, not alone, dear lord, for I am here;
And I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee!

Naaman

What voice is that? The silence of my tomb
Is broken by a ray of music⁠—whose?

Ruahmah

Rising.

The one who loves thee best in all the world.

Naaman

Why that should be⁠—O dare I dream it true?
Tsarpi, my wife? Have I misjudged thy heart
As cold and proud? How nobly thou forgivest!
Thou com’st to hold me from the last disgrace⁠—
The coward’s flight into the dark. Go back
Unstained, my sword! Life is endurable
While there is one alive on earth who loves us,

Ruahmah

My lord⁠—my lord⁠—O listen! You have erred⁠—
You do mistake me now⁠—this dream⁠—

Naaman

Ah, wake me not! For I can conquer death
Dreaming this dream. Let me at last believe,
Though gods are cruel, a woman can be kind.
Grant me but this! For see⁠—I ask so little⁠—
Only to know that thou art faithful⁠—
Only to lean upon the thought that thou,
My wife, art near me, though I touch thee not⁠—
O this will hold me up, though it be given
From pity more than love.

Ruahmah

Trembling, and speaking slowly.

Not so, my lord!
My pity is a stream; my pride of thee
Is like the sea that doth engulf the stream;
My love for thee is like the sovran moon
That rules the sea. The tides that fill my soul
Flow unto thee and follow after thee;
And where thou goest I will go; and where
Thou diest I will die⁠—in the same hour.

She lays her hand on his arm. He draws back. Naaman

O touch me not! Thou shall not share my doom.

Ruahmah

Entreat me not to go. I will obey
In all but this; but rob me not of this⁠—
The only boon that makes life worth the living⁠—
To walk beside thee day by day, and keep
Thy foot from stumbling; to prepare thy food
When thou art hungry, music for thy rest,
And cheerful words to comfort thy black hour;
And so to lead thee ever on, and on,
Through darkness, till we find the door of