Child, child, what ails you, Recha?

RECHA.

And this father I am to lose.

SITTAH.

Thou lose him, O no, never: Arise, be calm, how so? It must not be.

RECHA.

So shall thy offer not have been in vain, To be my friend, my sister.

SITTAH.

Maid, I am.

Rise then, or I must call for help.

RECHA.

Forgive, My agony made me awhile forgetful With whom I am. Tears, sobbing, and despair, Can not avail with Sittah. Cool calm reason Alone is over her omnipotent; Whose cause that pleads before her, he has conquered.

SITTAH.

Well, then!

RECHA.

My friend, my sister, suffer not Another father to be forced upon me.

SITTAH.

Another father to be forced upon thee - Who can do that, or wish to do it, Recha?

RECHA.

Who? Why my good, my evil genius, Daya, She, she can wish it, will it--and can do it.

You do not know this dear good evil Daya.

G.o.d, G.o.d forgive it her--reward her for it; So much good she has done me, so much evil.

SITTAH.

Evil to thee--much goodness she can't have.

RECHA.

O yes, she has indeed.

SITTAH.

Who is she?

RECHA.

Who?

A Christian, who took care of all my childhood.

You cannot think how little she allowed me To miss a mother--G.o.d reward her for it - But then she has so teased, so tortured me.

SITTAH.

And about what? Why, how, when?

RECHA.

The poor woman, I tell thee, is a Christian--and she must From love torment--is one of those enthusiasts Who think they only know the one true road To G.o.d.

SITTAH.

I comprehend thee.

RECHA.

And who feel Themselves in duty bound to point it out To every one who is not in this path, To lead, to drag them into it. And indeed They can't do otherwise consistently; For if theirs really be the only road On which 'tis safe to travel--they cannot With comfort see their friends upon another Which leads to ruin, to eternal ruin: Else were it possible at the same instant To love and hate the same man. Nor is 't this Which forces me to be aloud complainant.

Her groans, her prayers, her warnings, and her threats, I willingly should have abided longer - Most willingly--they always called up thoughts Useful and good; and whom does it not flatter To be by whomsoever held so dear, So precious, that they cannot bear the thought Of parting with us at some time for ever?

SITTAH.

Most true.

RECHA.

But--but--at last this goes too far; I've nothing to oppose to it, neither patience, Neither reflection--nothing.

SITTAH.

How, to what?

RECHA.

To what she has just now, as she will have it, Discovered to me.

SITTAH.

How discovered to thee?

RECHA.

Yes, just this instant. Coming hitherward We past a fallen temple of the Christians - She all at once stood still, seemed inly struggling, Turned her moist eyes to heaven, and then on me.