led
    By Naaman, would fight for liberty. 
    Blind fools!  To-day the envoys came to me,
    And talked with me in secret.  Promises,
    Great promises!  For every noble house
    That urges peace, a noble recompense: 
    The King, submissive, kept in royal state
    And splendour:  most of all, honour and wealth
    Shall crown the House of Rimmon, and his priest,—­
    Yea, and his priestess!  For we two will rise
    Upon the city’s fall.  The common folk
    Shall suffer; Naaman shall sink with them
    In wreck; but I shall rise, and you shall rise
    Above me!  You shall climb, through incense-smoke,
    And days of pomp, and nights of revelry,
    Unto the topmost room in Rimmon’s tower,
    The secret, lofty room, the couch of bliss,
    And the divine embraces of the god.

TSARPI:  [Throwing out her arms in exultation.]
    All, all I wish!  What must I do for this?

REZON: 
    Turn Naaman away from thoughts of war.

TSARPI: 
    But if I fail?  His will is proof against
    The lure of kisses and the wile of tears.

REZON: 
    Where woman fails, woman and priest succeed. 
    Before the King decides, he must consult
    The oracle of Rimmon.  This my hands
    Prepare,—­and you shall read the signs prepared
    In words of fear to melt the brazen heart
    Of Naaman.

TSARPI: 
                But if it flame instead?

REZON: 
    I know a way to quench that flame.  The cup,
    The parting cup your hand shall give to him! 
    What if the curse of Rimmon should infect
    That sacred wine with poison, secretly
    To work within his veins, week after week
    Corrupting all the currents of his blood,
    Dimming his eyes, wasting his flesh?  What then? 
    Would he prevail in war?  Would he come back
    To glory, or to shame?  What think you?

TSARPI: 
                                          I?—­
    I do not think; I only do my part. 
    But can the gods bless this?

REZON: 
                                  The gods can bless
    Whatever they decree; their will makes right;
    And this is for the glory of the House
    Of Rimmon,—­and for thee, my queen.  Come, come! 
    The night grows dark:  we’ll perfect our alliance.

[REZON draws her with him, embracing her, through
the shadows of the garden.  RUAHMAH, who has been
sleeping in the arbour, has been awakened during
the dialogue, and has been dimly visible in her
white dress, behind the vines.  She parts them and
comes out, pushing back her long, dark hair from
her temples.]

RUAHMAH: 
    What have I heard?  O God, what shame is this
    Plotted beneath Thy pure and silent stars! 
    Was it for this that I was brought away
    A captive from the hills of