The Dramatic Works of G. E. Lessing Part 81

DAJA.

You are too daring, Nathan.

NATHAN.

Trust me, Daja!

If fond delusion yield to sweeter truth-- For human beings ever to their kind Are dearer after all than angels are-- You will not censure me, when you perceive Our lov'd enthusiast's mind again restored.

DAJA.

You are so good, and so discerning, Nathan!

But see, behold! Yes, here she comes herself.

Scene II.

Recha, Nathan, _and_ Daja.

RECHA.

And is it you! your very self, my father?

I thought you had but sent your voice before you, Where are you lingering still? What mountains, streams, Or deserts now divide us? Here we are Once more together, face to face, and yet You do not hasten to embrace your Recha!

Poor Recha! she was almost burnt alive!

Yet she escaped----But do not, do not shudder.

It were a dreadful death to die by fire!

NATHAN.

My child! my darling child!

RECHA.

Your journey lay Across the Tigris, Jordan, and Euphrates, And many other rivers. 'Till that fire I trembled for your safety, but since then Methinks it were a blessed, happy thing To die by water. But you are not drowned, Nor am I burnt alive. We will rejoice, And thank our G.o.d, who bore you on the wings Of unseen angels o'er the treacherous streams, And bade my angel bear me visibly On his white pinion through the raging flames.

NATHAN (_aside_).

On his white pinion! Ha! I see; she means The broad white fluttering mantle of the Templar.

RECHA.

Yes, visibly he bore me through the flames, O'ershadowed by his wings. Thus, face to face, I have beheld an angel--my own angel.

NATHAN.

Recha were worthy of so blest a sight.

And would not see in him a fairer form Than he would see in her.

RECHA (_smiling_).

Whom would you flatter-- The angel, dearest father, or yourself?

NATHAN.

And yet methinks, dear Recha, if a man-- Just such a man as Nature daily fashions-- Had rendered you this service, he had been A very angel to you.

RECHA.

But he was No angel of that stamp, but true and real.

And have I not full often heard you say 'Tis possible that angels may exist?

And how G.o.d still works miracles for those Who love Him? And I love Him dearly, father.

NATHAN.

And He loves you; and 'tis for such as you That He from all eternity has wrought Such ceaseless wonders daily.

RECHA.

How I love To hear you thus discourse!

NATHAN.

Well, though it sound A thing but natural and common-place That you should by a Templar have been saved, Is it the less a miracle for that?

The greatest of all miracles seems this: That real wonders, genuine miracles, Can seem and grow so commonplace to us.

Without this universal miracle, Those others would scarce strike a thinking man, Awaking wonder but in children's minds, Who love to stare at strange, unusual things, And hunt for novelty.

DAJA.

Why will you thus With airy subtleties perplex her mind, Already overheated?

NATHAN.

Silence, Daja!

And was it then no miracle that Recha Should be indebted for her life to one Whom no small miracle preserved himself?

Who ever heard before, that Saladin Pardoned a Templar? that a Templar asked it-- Hoped it--or for his ransom offered more Than his own sword--belt, or at most his dagger?

RECHA.

That argues for me, father! All this proves That my preserver was no Templar knight, But only seemed so. If no captive Templar Has e'er come hither but to meet his death, And through Jerus'lem cannot wander free, How could I find one, in the night, to save me?

NATHAN.

Ingenious, truly! Daja, you must speak.

Doubtless, you know still more about this knight; For 'twas from you I learnt he was a prisoner.

DAJA.

'Tis but report indeed, but it is said That Saladin gave freedom to the knight, Moved by the likeness which his features bore To a lost brother whom he dearly loved, Though since his disappearance twenty years Have now elapsed. He fell I know not where, And e'en his very name's a mystery.

But the whole tale sounds so incredible, It may be mere invention, pure romance.