RUAHMAH: 
  What matter where he sends?  No god is he
  To slay or make alive.  Elisha bids
  You come to him at Dothan, there to learn
  There is a God in Israel.

NAAMAN: 
        I fear
  That I am grown mistrustful of all gods;
  Their secret counsels are implacable.

RUAHMAH: 
  Fear not!  There’s One who rules in righteousness
  High over all.

NAAMAN: 
        What knowest thou of Him?

RUAHMAH: 
  Oh, I have heard,—­the maid of Israel,—­
  Rememberest thou?  She often said her God
  Was merciful and kind, and slow to wrath,
  And plenteous in forgiveness, pitying us
  Like as a father pitieth his children.

NAAMAN: 
  If there were such a God, I’d worship Him
  For ever!

RUAHMAH: 
        Then make haste to hear the word
  His prophet promises to speak to thee! 
  Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt lose
  This curse that burdens thee.  This tiny spot
  Of white that mars the beauty of thy brow
  Shall melt like snow; thine eyes be filled with light. 
  Thou wilt not need my leading any more,—­
  Nor me,—­for thou wilt see me, all unveiled,—­
  I tremble at the thought.

NAAMAN: 
        Why, what is this? 
  Why shouldst thou tremble?  Art thou not mine own?

RUAHMAH:  [Turning to him.]
  Surely I am!  But take me, take me now! 
  For I belong to thee in body and soul;
  The very pulses of my heart are thine. 
  Wilt thou not feel how tenderly they beat? 
  Wilt thou not lie like myrrh between my breasts
  And satisfy thy lonely lips with love? 
  Thou art opprest, and I would comfort thee
  While yet thy sorrow weighs upon thy life. 
  To-morrow?  No, to-day!  The crown of love
  Is sacrifice; I have not given thee
  Enough!  Ah, fold me in thine arms,—­take all!

[She takes his hands and puts them around her neck; he holds her from him, with one hand on her shoulder, the other behind her head.]

NAAMAN: 
  Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss,—­
  Too dear for me to stain thy purity,
  Or leave one touch upon thee to regret! 
  How should I take a gift may bankrupt thee,
  Or drain the fragrant chalice of thy love
  With lips that may be fatal?  Tempt me not
  To sweet dishonour; strengthen me to wait
  Until thy prophecy is all fulfilled,
  And I can claim thee with a joyful heart.

RUAHMAH:  [Turning away.]
  Thou wilt not need me then,—­and I shall be
  No more than the faint echo of a song
  Heard half asleep.  We shall go back to where
  We stood before this journey.

NAAMAN: 
        Never again! 
  For thou art changed by some deep miracle. 
  The flower of womanhood hath bloomed in thee,—­
  Art thou not changed?

RUAHMAH: 
        Yea, I am changed,—­and changed
  Again,—­bewildered,—­till there’s nothing clear
  To me but this:  I am the instrument
  In an Almighty hand to rescue thee
  From death.  This will I do,—­and afterward—­