Act 4 — Scene III.
Ernest Bell translation
Saladin's Palace.
(Slaves are employed in bringing bags of gold, and piling them on the floor.)
Saladin, Sittah.
SALADIN.
In truth, this weary business ne'er will end;
Say, is it nearly done?
A SLAVE.
One half is done.
SALADIN.
Then take the rest to Sittah? Where's Al-Hafi?
He must take charge of what is here. But, hold,
Were it not best to send it to my father?
Here 'twill be quickly spent. I feel, in truth,
That I am growing miserly. At last
He must be skilful who gets much from me,
And till from Egypt further treasure comes,
Our poverty must be content to struggle.
Yet, at the Holy Sepulchre, the cost
Of all the Christian pilgrims must be paid;
They must, at least, not go with empty hands.
SITTAH.
Why, what is this? wherefore this gold to me?
SALADIN.
Recoup yourself with it, if aught is left,
Keep it in store.
SITTAH.
Are Nathan and the Knight
Not yet arrived?
SALADIN.
The former everywhere
Is seeking him.
SITTAH.
Behold what I have found
In turning o'er my ornaments and jewels (showing a small portrait).
SALADIN.
Ha! what is here! a portrait! yes, my brother!
'Tis he--'tis he! Was he--was he, alas!
Oh dear, brave youth! so early lost to me!
With thee at hand what had I not achieved!
Give me the portrait, Sittah. I recall
This picture well. He gave it to his Lilla--
Your elder sister--when one summer morn
He tore himself away reluctantly.
She would not yield, but clasped him in her arms.
'Twas the last morning that he e'er rode forth,
And I, alas! I let him ride alone.
Poor Lilla died of grief, and ne'er forgave
My error that I let him ride alone.
He ne'er returned.
SITTAH.
Poor brother!
SALADIN.
Say no more.
A few short years, and we shall ne'er return.
And then who knows? But 'tis not death alone
That blights the hopes and promises of youth,
They have far other foes, and oftentimes
The strongest, like the weakest, is o'ercome.
But be that as it may, I must compare
This portrait with the Templar, that I may
Observe how much my fancy cheated me.
SITTAH.
'Twas for that purpose that I brought it here.
But give it, and I'll tell thee if 'tis like:
We women are best judges of such things.
SALADIN (to the doorkeeper who enters).
Who's there? the Templar? Bid him come at once.
SITTAH.
Not to disturb you, or perplex him with
My curious questions, I'll retire awhile. (Throws herself upon the sofa, and lets her veil fall.)
SALADIN.
That's well. (And now his voice--will that be like?
For Assad's voice still slumbers in my soul!)