yours
Worth nothing. But do you suppose, Sir Knight,
That you can hide such secrets from a woman?

TEMPLAR.

Secrets we often are unconscious of.

DAJA.

Perhaps. But I must prove myself your friend
And tell you all. Confess how happened it
That you so suddenly took leave of us,
And that with Nathan you will not return?
Has Recha, then, made no impression on you,
Or made too deep a one, perchance? Oh yes!
Too deep--too deep! You are a hapless bird
Whose fluttering wing the fatal twig has limed,
Confess it, plainly, with a word, you love--
Love her to madness, and I'll tell you then----

TEMPLAR.

To madness? Ah! you understand it well.

DAJA.

Well, grant the love, the madness I'll resign.

TEMPLAR.

Because, of course, there is no doubt of it.
A Templar love a Jewess!----

DAJA.

Why, it seems
Absurd. But often there's more fitness in
Some things than we can readily discern;
And 'twould not be the first time that our Lord
Had drawn us to Him by a secret path
Which we had ne'er discovered of ourselves.

TEMPLAR.

Solemnly spoken I (and if for our Lord
I substituted Providence, 'twere true).
You make me curious, far beyond my wont.

DAJA.

This is the land of miracles!

TEMPLAR.

Ay, true,
Of miracles! Can it be otherwise,
When all the world flocks hither? Dearest Daja,
You have your wish; so take it as confessed
That I do love her, nor can comprehend
How I can live without her.

DAJA.

Can this be?
Then swear, Sir Knight, to make her yours--to save
Her here on earth--to save her there for ever.

TEMPLAR.

How can I this? How can I swear to do
What stands not in my power.

DAJA.

'Tis in your power!
One single word brings it within your power.

TEMPLAR.

But will her father smile upon my suit?