And Nathan!

DAJA.

Not her father.

TEMPLAR.

Nathan not Her father? Are you sure of that?

DAJA.

I am; The truth has cost me tears of blood. He's not.

TEMPLAR.

But as his daughter he has brought her up, Brought up the Christian maiden as a Jewess?

DAJA.

Just so.

TEMPLAR.

And knows she aught about her birth?

Has she not learnt from him that she was born A Christian and no Jewess?

DAJA.

Never yet.

TEMPLAR.

And he not only let the child grow up In this mistaken notion, but he leaves The woman in it.

DAJA.

Ay, alas!

TEMPLAR.

Oh, Nathan!

How can the wise, good Nathan lend himself To stifle Nature's voice--to misdirect The yearnings of a heart in such a way Which, to itself abandoned, would have formed Another bias, Daja? Ay, in truth, The secret is of moment, and may have Important issues. But I feel perplexed: I know not how I ought to act. But go, Let me have breathing time. He may approach, He may surprise us suddenly. Farewell!

DAJA.

I tremble with affright.

TEMPLAR.

And I can scarce Express my thoughts. But go; and should you chance To meet him, say he'll find me at the Sultan's.

DAJA.

Let him not see that you have any thing Against him. That 'twere well to keep reserved, To give the proper turn to things at last.

It may remove your scruples, touching Recha.

But if you take her back to Europe, Knight, You will not leave me here?

TEMPLAR.

We'll see, now go!

ACT IV.

Scene I.--_The Cloisters of the Convent_.

_The_ Friar, _and presently afterwards the_ Templar.

FRIAR.

Ay, ay! he must be right, the Patriarch!

And yet, of all his business, no great part Has prospered in my hands. But why should he Entrust such tasks to me? I have no wish To play the knave, to wheedle and persuade, To worm out secrets, and to thrust my hand Into my neighbour's business. Not for this Did I renounce the world, that I might be Entangled with its cares for other men.

TEMPLAR (_entering abruptly_).

Good brother, are you here? I've sought you long.

FRIAR.

Me, sir?

TEMPLAR.

What, don't you recollect me, then?

FRIAR.

Ay! but, Sir Knight, I never thought to see Your face again--and so I hoped in G.o.d.

G.o.d knows how much I hated the proposal Which I was bound to make you, and He knows How little I desired you should a.s.sent, How in my inmost soul I was rejoiced When you refused, without a moment's thought, To do what had been shameful in a Knight.

But have you thought the matter o'er again?

TEMPLAR.

You seem to know what object brings me here.

FRIAR.