The Blood Of Rachel Part 11

_Parshandatha_

I do but speak to sting You to revenge.

_Zeresh_

Let fly your venom then.

The Persian empire is in arms. To-night The king does hold a great carouse. The Jew Will sit in state beside the profligate.

This blade I have prepared against that hour.

The queen, I understand, will be a blaze Of gems. Ahasuerus boasts this night Would all but wreck a petty kingdom.

_Parshandatha_

He Should never live to see the rising sun.

_Zeresh_

The rising sun! My dear, he shall not see The Pleiades again, and they are up At nine. When cornet and the trumpet bruit The entry of the queen, a hundred blades Like this [_disclosing dagger_] shall be unsheathed.

Parshandatha, You know whose blood my blade shall drink!

My hour has come! Ah, Esther, you shall sup Once more with Haman and your drunken lord, While Zeresh keeps her lonely watch Beneath the silent, glittering stars. Come on!

[_Exeunt Zeresh and Parshandatha._]

[_Curtain._]

SCENE II

Place--Outer hall to throne room, curtain back.

Time--The following evening.

[_Enter Vashti and Esther from opposite sides of the stage._]

_Esther_

Ah, here already, Vashti, at my poor Request, who dared defy a despot king's Command to come before him and his lords?

Your beauty, radiant and spotless, grows Each hour of exiled life more potent still Than when it hurled an oriental crown, With all its flashing jewels, in the face Of brutal Xerxes rather than unveil Unto a drunken court of l.u.s.tful eyes.

Uncrowned, deposed, you are, yet thrice a queen!

_Vashti_

The sting, the sting of your envenomed words!

_Esther_

Forgive me, dear, I do not mock your fate; No word of mine is spoke in scorn. I would Exchange the royal robe and crown I wear For just one hour of virtuous freedom that Belongs to you.

_Vashti_

I can not understand!

_Esther_

I know; 'tis my misfortune, and I called You to the palace that I might explain.

Yet every word seems cruel mockery.

I do not blame you that your cheek, as chaste As lilies, blushes at my seeming shame.

Yet, Vashti, can you not believe I need Your sympathy? I crave your high respect?

_Vashti_

You must an explanation.

_Esther_

Well, did you Not sacrifice a queenship for the gem That every woman holds above a throne?

How can we estimate your loss? The pomp That follows majesty; the crooking knee; Ten thousand minions at your beck and call; A thousand sycophantic, fawning lords; A hundred gleaming jeweled chandeliers; The radiance and rich magnificence Of court; long hours of revel and of wine; And then above the splendor and the show G.o.d's finger writing on the wall! Is this The precious price that you have paid?

_Vashti_

This is The price.

_Esther_

Sweet friend, I thank you. Yes, your loss Has been my gain! Yet what reward have I?

How I do hate the crown that you did spurn!

O how I love the pearl of greatest price!

G.o.d pardon my great sin!

Vashti, I am A daughter of Rebecca and the blood Of Rachel pulses in my veins! Beyond The northern hills, within a valley green, A shepherd watches o'er his flocks to-night Beside a starlit stream, and dreams of her Who gave the promise of her hand when life Was young and all the earth was pure and fair.

His love was constant as the northern star, And mine was like the needle pointing true.

That day is but a sad remembrance now.

I never knew the ones who gave me life.

My uncle, Mordecai, who sits in state Beside the king instructed me in love And knowledge of my people. Every night, As well as every day, like Daniel, I Was taught to pray, my window open toward Jerusalem. G.o.d softened Cyrus' heart Because of Daniel's prayer. But, Vashti, you Must know from Persian Gulf to Caspian Sea, The sons of Jacob still in exile groan Beneath a tyrant's yoke. I hear the wail Of Rachel weeping for her children still; I hear my lover playing on his flute, Who waits the coming of a faithless bride!

_But Mordecai has stayed the hand of Death!_

_Vashti_

And you did eat your heart to save your blood?

_Esther_

You comprehend at last? Your sympathy, O Vashti, I must have, if not respect, Else can I not return unto the king. [_Vashti weeps._]

There, there, I thank you, sister, friend, proud queen!

The tears that glitter on your cheeks are worth A diadem of sparkling Indian stones.

But weep no more--your hand--for Esther's heart Can now endure, since Vashti understands!

The stars are twinkling in the northern skies; They shimmer on the stream beyond the hills; The shepherd's reed is wailing on the breeze; The revels in the palace now begin; The call has come; I must no longer stay.

The daughter of a Benjamite will lay Her heart upon the altar of her blood.