The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing Part 135

SITTAH.

Well, then?

RECHA.

My friend and sister, suffer not Another father to be forced on me.

SITTAH.

Another father to be forced on you!

Who can do that, or wish to do it, love?

RECHA.

Who but my good, my evil genius, Daja?

She can both wish it and perform the deed.

You do not know this good, this evil Daja.

May G.o.d forgive her, and reward her, too, For she has done me good and evil, both.

SITTAH.

Evil? Then she has little goodness left.

RECHA.

Oh, she has much.

SITTAH.

Who is she?

RECHA.

Who? a Christian, Who cared for me in childhood's early years.

You cannot know how little she allowed That I should miss a mother's tender cares-- May G.o.d reward her for it!--but she has Worried and tortured me.

SITTAH.

Wherefore, and how?

RECHA.

Poor woman, she's a Christian, and from love Has tortured me: a warm enthusiast, Who thinks she only knows the real road That leads to G.o.d.

SITTAH.

I understand you now.

RECHA.

And one of those who feel in duty bound To point it out to every one who strays From the plain path, to lead, to drag them in.

And who can censure them? for if the road They travel is the only one that's safe, They cannot, without pain, behold their friends Pursue a path that lead to endless woe, Else, at the self-same time, 'twere possible To love and hate another. Nor does this Alone compel me to complain aloud.

Her groans, her prayers, her warnings, and her threats I could have borne much longer willingly.

They always called up good and wholesome thoughts.

Who is not flattered to be held so dear, And precious by another, that the thought Of parting pierces him with lasting pain?

SITTAH.

This is most true.

RECHA.

And yet this goes too far, And I have nothing to oppose to it-- Patience, reflection, nothing.

SITTAH.

How? to what?

RECHA.

To what she has disclosed to me.

SITTAH.

Say, when?

RECHA.

'Tis scarce an instant. Coming hither We pa.s.sed a Christian temple on our way; She all at once stood still, seemed inly moved, Raised her moist eyes to heaven, then looked on me.

"Come," she exclaimed at length, "come straight on here, Through this old fane." She leads, I follow her.

My eyes with horror overrun the dim And tottering ruin: all at once she stops By a low ruined altar's sunken steps.

O, how I felt, when there, with streaming eyes And wringing hands, down at my feet she fell!

SITTAH.

Good child!

RECHA.

And, by the Holy Virgin, who had heard So many suppliants' prayers, and had performed Full many a wonder there, she begged, implored With looks of heart-felt sympathy and love, That I would now take pity on myself, And pardon her for daring to unfold The nature of the Church's claims on me.

SITTAH.

I guessed as much.

RECHA.

I'm born of Christian blood, Have been baptised, and am not Nathan's child!

Nathan is not my father! G.o.d, O G.o.d!