University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Early dawn. A spacious courtyard closed in at the rear by the city-wall. Antiquated architecture. Groups of squalid figures of men, women, and children dimly seen lying asleep here and there in the background. A dilapidated archway spans the left-hand upper entrance. A short flight of stone steps on the right leads to the door of a round tower forming part of the fortifications. Achior, in helmet and breastplate, is discovered standing near the foot of the steps in an attitude of expectancy. Presently he paces to and fro, glancing from time to time up at the tower with an anxious expression. A distant peal of trumpets is heard. The purple gradually lightens behind the battlements. As the scene progresses, citizens of wretched aspect cross the back of the stage, and at intervals a wounded soldier is borne by on a litter. The effect to be produced is that of a crowded town in a state of siege.
ACHIOR,
halting in front of the tower
All this long night upon the battlements
Has Judith kept her vigil, and I here,
Low at her feet, where I would ever be—
Merari's daughter, dead Manasseh's wife,
Who, since the barley harvest when he died,
Has dwelt three years a widow in her house
And looked on no man: where Manasseh sleeps
In his strait sepulchre, there sleeps her heart.
She will not give me pleasure of her eyes
Nor any word of comfort. (Pauses)
There she stands,
Fairer than morning in Arabia,
Her beauty blending with the light of dawn
On yonder tower. Now she turns, and now,
Like one that wanders in a dream, descends.
At last!

Achior withdraws a little. Judith appears in the doorway of the tower.
JUDITH,
descending the steps
The Lord be with thee, Achior, all thy days!
May peace and grace walk ever at thy side.

ACHIOR
Daughter of heaven, would He but grant thy prayer,
I should not be the lonely man I am.
May I a word with thee?

JUDITH,
brushing past him
Indeed not now.
Nay, stop me not, for I have haste to speak
Of weighty matters with the Patriarchs,
Who come this way—as if God sent them to me!

ACHIOR,
aside, impatiently
So ends my waiting! Never have I chance
To be alone with her but some ill thing
Steps in between us!—Then some other hour,
Fair Judith?

JUDITH,
preoccupied
Yes, some other hour than this.

Enter Ozias, Chabris, and Charmis.
CHARMIS,
aside to Chabris
Lo! she is here. 'T is as Ozias said.
She seems like one foreknowing we would come.

Judith approaches the Patriarchs with her hands crossed upon her bosom, and makes low obeisance. Achior retires up the stage, and during the ensuing dialogue watches the speakers with deep interest.
OZIAS,
pausing and gazing intently at Judith
I marvel much that in this stricken town
Is one face left not pinched with fear, nor wan
With grief's acquaintance. Such is Judith's face.

CHARMIS
That woman walketh in the light of God.

JUDITH
Would it were so! If so, I know it not;
Yet this I know, that where faith is, is light.
Oh, is it true, Ozias, thou hast mind
To yield the city to the infidels
After five days, unless the Lord shall stoop
From heaven to help us?

OZIAS,
with a despairing gesture
It is even so.
The enemy have failed to batter down
Our gates of bronze, or decent entrance make
With beam or catapult in these tough walls,
Or with their lighted arrows fire the roofs.
Thus far our strength has baffled them; but lo!
The wells run dry, the store of barley shrinks.
Our young men faint upon the battlements,
Our wives and children by the empty tanks
Lie down and perish.

JUDITH
If we doubt, we die.
But whoso trusts in God, as Isaac did,
Though suffering greatly even to the end,
Dwells in a citadel upon a rock:
Wave shall not reach it, nor fire topple down.

OZIAS
Our young men die upon the battlements,
And day by day beside the dusty wells
Our wives and children.

JUDITH
They shall go and drink
At living streams, through heavenly pastures walk
With Saints and Prophets in eternal life!
Is there no God?

OZIAS
One only, one true God.
But now His face is turned aside from us,
He sees not Israel.

JUDITH
Is His mercy less
Than that of Holofernes? Shall we trust
In this fierce Bull of Asshur?

CHABRIS,
with an air of ending the discussion
All is said!
The foe has hemmed us in on every side,
The plague is come, and famine walks the streets.
For five days more we place our trust in God.

JUDITH,
turning upon him sharply
Ah, His time is not man's time, learnèd scribe!
And who are we—the dust beneath His feet—
To name the hour of our deliverance,
Saying to Him: Thus shalt Thou do, and so!
Ozias, thou to whom the heart of man
Is as a scroll illegible, dost thou
Pretend to read the mystery of God?

CHARMIS
The woman sayeth wisely. We are wrong
That in our anguish broke the staff of faith
Whereon we leaned till now. These aged eyes
Have lost their use if I see not in her
A God's white Angel bearing messages.

OZIAS
She seems like one inspired—mark her brow,
The radiance of it! Thus some Sibyl looks,
In trance, delivering her oracles.
When such lips speak, 't is to the souls of men.
Speak thou, we hear. What is it thou wouldst have?

JUDITH
I cannot answer thee, nor make it plain
In mine own thought. This night I had a dream
Not born of sleep, for both my eyes were wide,
My sense alive—a vision, if thou wilt,
Of which the scattered fragments in my mind
Are as the fragments of a crystal vase
That, slipping from a slave-girl's careless hand,
Falls on the marble. No most cunning skill
Shall join the pieces and make whole the vase.
So with my vision. I seem still to hear
Weird voices round me, inarticulate,
Words shaped and uttered by invisible lips.
At whiles there seems a palm prest close to mine
That fain would lead me somewhere. I know not
What all portends. Some great event is near.
Last night celestial spirits were on wing
Over the city. As I sat alone
Within the tower, alone yet not alone,
A strangest silence fell upon the land;
Like to a sea-mist stretching east and west
It spread, and close on this there came a sound
Of snow-soft plumage rustling in the dark,
And voices that such magic whisperings made
As the sea makes at twilight on a strip
Of sand and pebble. Suddenly I saw—
Look, look, Ozias! Charmis, Chabris, look!
See ye not, yonder, a white mailèd hand
That with its levelled finger points through air?

OZIAS
Nought but the vacant air do I behold.

JUDITH
There, look thou there! What blindness veils thine eyes?
See, it still lingers, like a silver mist!
It changes, fades, and then comes back again,
And now 't is ruby-red—as red as blood!
Judith shades her eyes with one palm as if the brightness dazzled. The Patriarchs, stricken with awe by Judith's words and manner, follow the direction of her gaze, but evidently see nothing. They look at one another wonderingly. Then Judith, after a pause:
'T is gone! Fear not; it was a sign to me,
To me alone. Ozias, didst thou note
The way it pointed?—to the Eastern Gate!
Send the guard orders not to stay me there.
Oh, question not! The omen I obey.
I must go hence. Before the shadow slants
Upon the courtyard thrice I shall return,
Else shall men's eyes not look upon me more.
What darkness lies between this hour and that
Tongue may not say. The thing I can, I will,
Leaning on God, remembering what befell
Jacob in Syria when he fed the flocks
Of Laban, and how Isaac in his day,
And Abraham, were chastened by the Lord.

OZIAS
This passes understanding. We would more
Of thy design, for thou art dear to us.

JUDITH
Wait thou in patience. Till I come, keep thou
The sanctuaries. Swear to keep them—swear!

The Patriarchs draw a little apart and appear to consult together for a moment.
OZIAS,
stepping from the group
Although thy speech is fraught with mystery,
There lives conviction in it, and we swear
To hold the town, and if we hold it not,
Then shalt thou find us in the synagogue
Dead near the Sacred Ark; the spearmen dead
At the four gates; upon the parapets
The archers bleaching.

JUDITH
Be it so, my lords—
Yet be it not so! Shield me with thy prayers!

Judith bows down before the Patriarchs; they lift their hands in benediction above her head, and then slowly move away.
ACHIOR,
advancing swiftly down the stage
Daughter of heaven! what mad thing is this?
Of thy dark commerce with these aged men
Something I caught, but nothing definite.
To some most perilous action on thy part
They seemingly consented. Tell me all!

JUDITH
Time and the place prevent me; and in truth,
Whereof we spoke concerns thee not to know.
Such scanty knowledge as thou hast of it
Keep locked within thy memory for a while.

ACHIOR
Thou hast some wild and dangerous intent
That chills my blood. Can I not counsel thee?
What evil dream at midnight in the tower
Has stolen thy reason? Whither wouldst thou go?

JUDITH,
hesitating a moment
Didst see that finger pointing to yon camp?

ACHIOR
I saw it not, nor thou!

JUDITH
Thither I go.

ACHIOR
That thou shalt not!

JUDITH,
haughtily
Thou sayest?

ACHIOR,
grasping her wrist
Thou shalt not!
O Judith, listen! Rough I am in words
That would be gentle. What thy purpose is
Lies hidden from me. I see only this,
In yonder camp, among those barbarous hordes,
Swift death awaits thee, or some darker fate.

JUDITH
That must I venture. Other will than mine
Ordains the trial. O Achior, free my wrist!
Dear friend, brave soldier! Naught shall bar my way.

ACHIOR,
releasing her
O Judith, let love bar it! Since the hour,
Now two years gone, when first I looked on thee,
No thought of mine by day or dream by night
Has been without thy image.

JUDITH,
recoiling
Say it not!

ACHIOR
Can I behold thee go to shameful death,
And speak no word? My fear has made me bold.
Judith, I love thee. The dull sward that knows
Thy foot's light touch is hallowed ground to me.
I would not have the blossom from a bough
To fall upon thee rudely.

JUDITH,
fiercely, and then with sudden gentleness
Peace, I say!—
Dear soul, my heart lies buried in a grave.
I have no love to give thee. Elsewhere seek
Some Jewish maiden worthy of thy worth.
I am thine elder both in time and grief.
No more of this. In kindness, pain me not.

ACHIOR
Then is my life a maimed and worthless thing.
Yet this is left me. If thou still art bent
On thy mysterious errand to yon camp,
I'll go with thee. In other days I served
Prince Holofernes, from whose wrath I fled
To dwell, a wanderer, in alien tents,
And since have set my breast against his spears.
I know him well. 'T would fit his darksome mind
To lay a hand on me. Together, then!

JUDITH
The Patriarchs shall forbid it! I forbid!
Our path divides here, and so fare-thee-well!
Too long have I been spendthrift of my time.
I must prepare me for the journey hence.
(Abstractedly)
I shall go richly decked, pearls in my hair
And diamonds on my bosom. My handmaid
Shall even drape me in the rustling silk
That in a chest of camphor-wood has lain
Unworn since I was wed—the proud silk robe,
Heavy with vine-work, silvery flower and star,
And looped at either shoulder with a gem
To ransom princes.
(Suddenly conscious of Achior)
What, still art thou here?
Thou hast thy answer. Trouble me no more!

ACHIOR
Thou art gone mad! The grievous sights and sounds
Of this beleaguered town have turned thy brain
And bred in it some desperate resolve.
Whatever chances, I must follow thee.
I'll to the Patriarchs and get their leave—
With or without it, thine shall be my doom.

JUDITH
Thou hast no part in it. God calls His own,
And I am His and Israel's! I go
To free my people, and, if needs must be,
Gladly to pay the forfeit with my life.
There lie the pith and sum of my intent.
Stand back and give me passage, Achior!

Judith brushes him aside and makes a swift exit through the archway at the rear of the stage. Daybreak.
CURTAIN