ily watches them mount
the stairs.)

Go up and steal her from thy father's bed
And choke him sleeping: drunken men are helpless!
I see how fain thou art to lie with her.
When thou are sated or wouldst have a change,
Then come to me, but softly we will tread,
For heavy sleep comes not to my old husband,
Such as they have, who can give ear to this,
And then sleep through it!

[She casts herself on the floor.]

But with grievous howling
I will arouse this house to shame and wrath
And lamentation ...

(She lies groaning.)

... I have loved thee so,
And so thou tramplest on me!

[An old slave appears in the background,
putting out the lights; he picks up a fallen
fruit and eats it.]

GANEM (claps his hands in sudden anger).
Come, take her out! Here is a shrieking woman,
I scarcely know her, says she weeps for me.
Her father fain would wed her to the merchant,
The wealthy one, but she perverts the whole,
And says her husband is a similar pander,
But he's no more than fool, for aught I see.

(He steps close to her, mockingly sympathetic.)

O ye, too credulous by far. But then,
Your nature's more to blame than skill of ours.
No, get thee up. I will no more torment thee.

SOBEIDE (raises herself up. Her voice is hard).
Then naught was true, and back of all is naught.
From this I cannot cleanse myself again:
What came into my soul today, remaineth.
Another might dispel it: I'm too weary.

(Stands up.)

Away! I know my course, but now away
From here!

[The old slave has gone slowly down the stairs.]

GANEM.
I will not hold thee. Yet the road--
How wilt thou find it? Still, thou foundst it once.

SOBEIDE.
The road, the self-same road!
(She shudders.) Yon aged man
Shall go with me. I have no fear, but still
I would not be alone: until the dawn--

[GANEM goes up stage to fetch the slave.]

SOBEIDE.