(Recha _starts, composes herself, and is about to fall at his feet_.)
'Twas only to avoid this scene that I So long postponed my visit.
At the feet Of this proud man, I will thank God alone, And not the man. He does not want my thanks-- As little as the bucket does which proved Itself so useful at the fire, and let Itself be filled and emptied; so this man, He too was thrust by chance amid the flames; I dropped by chance into his open arms, By chance remained there, like a fluttering spark Upon his mantle--till--I know not what Expelled us from the flames. What room is here For thanks?--In Europe wine excites the men To greater deeds--The Templar knows his duty, Performs his task, as well-trained spaniels do, Who fetch alike from water and from flames.
TEMPLAR (_who has been surveying her with surprise and uneasiness_).
O Daja, Daja! if in hasty hours Of care and grief, this unchecked tongue of mine Betrayed me into rudeness, why convey To her each idle word that leaves my lips? This is indeed too galling a revenge! Yet, if henceforth, you will interpret better----
I question if these little stings, Sir Knight, Were so shot forth as to have done you wrong.
How! you had cares, and were more covetous Of them than of your life.
Thou best of beings, How is my soul with eye and ear at strife? No, 'twas not she I rescued from the fire, For who could know her and forbear the deed? In truth, disguised by terror---- (_He gazes on her as if entranced_.)
But to me You still appear the same as then you seemed. (_A pause, till she resumes in order to interrupt his reverie_.) Tell me, Sir Knight, where have you been so long? And--I might almost ask--where are you now?
And been, perhaps, where you should not have been. That is not well.
I have been up the mountain-- What is the name?--ay! Sinai!
I am glad; For, doubtless, you can tell me if 'tis true----
If what is true? If holy people show The spot where Moses stood before his God?
Oh no; not that. Wherever Moses stood It was before his God. I know enough About such things already. Is it true-- I wish to learn from you who have been there-- If it is not by far less difficult To climb than to descend the holy mount? For with all other mountains that I know, 'Tis quite the contrary. You turn away! Why do you turn, Sir Knight? Nay, look at me.