University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—The hill of Calvary. Mary Magdalene and Judas standing near the Cross.
Mary.
Now all your work is done: the man is dead.

Judas.
Dead—dead at last, but you and I live on.

Mary.
You have gained your end—and yet the man was young!
His cold still face seems beautiful in death:
How white it is! save for the streaks of blood
That glitter—blood that trickled from the thorns.
Have you no pity in you?

Judas.
Not a jot!

Mary.
Well, all is over now. When shall we meet?

Judas.
To-night. A man's hot blood brooks no delay.

Mary.
To-night! with death—and such a death as this—
Pale at the entrance of our bridal room?

Judas.
Aye—death or no death, love's a priceless thing.
The death of Jesus has not dimmed your lips
It has not stolen from your eyes the fire—
Hope flashes through them still with living gleam.

Mary
(aside).
Hope!
(Aloud)
To-night then be it; best it should be soon.

Judas.
Where will you meet me?

Mary.
In Gethsemane.

(Exit Judas).
(Enter Ben-Aaron).
Ben-Aaron.
—What, gazing on the cross! How strange it is
That women's souls exult in tragic deeds—
That they, being full of sweetness like the flowers,
Should love the midnight, not the morning sun,
For here 'tis dark as midnight! What a gloom
Broods o'er the land—the uncultured heart would say
It was of evil omen.

Mary.
Death and gloom
Are not all evil; for the pure in heart
There is no darkness, but eternal light
Whose rays divide the gloom—for evil-doers
Darkness is fitting shroud.

Ben-Aaron.
Was this man then
An evil-doer, in that thus the gloom
For his sake shrouds the earth?

Mary.
Nay, darkness falls
Upon the earth that this, man's greatest crime,
May be concealed from angels' pitying gaze.
The dark deed brings the darkness.

Ben-Aaron.
I am glad
Of heart—thou knowest it—for I loved thee well.
Man's heart is gladdened when a rival dies;
Aye, for each pang the dying rival feels,
He feels a new swift throb of ecstacy.
But (drawing her apart)
listen—this way—I would speak with thee.

Mary
(aside).
More love, I doubt not! What are men indeed
But lovers—of a kind! They would rage on
With their mad lust, though round them stone by stone
The massy ramparts of this earth should crumble,
Letting wild darkness in.
(Aloud)
What is your wish?

Ben-Aaron.
The old desire—the sweet desire of youth
That through my veins runs tingling at the sight
Of your young beauty. Many and many a day
We have not met,—but I have not forgotten:
The young forget; the old, with fewer joys,
Never forget—nor could man, young or old,
Who once had touched the blossom of your lips
Forget their matchless sweetness. Mary, listen!
I am not all evil; though I hated him
(pointing to the figure on the Cross)
Thee I have loved far better than my soul,
Better than God or heaven—if these indeed
Be aught save men's wild fancies. Jesus there
Hangs pale—forget him—for he loved thee not:
Self was his ruler, self in royal robes
And crowned with lovely godship. 'Tis not so
With me; my heaven would be thy dwelling-place
Though no God's light illumined it, and my hell
The bright heaven where thou wert not.

Mary.
(Aside)
Still the same!
Man's heaven is ever in a woman's arms,
His rapture on her lips, till arms and lips
Grow old—then they seem hell-like.
(Aloud)
And your wish?

Ben-Aaron.
Once more to hold your glory in embrace
And feel myself renewed—as darkness feels,
When sunset's passive splendour slowly sinks
Deep in recipient night's dark tremulous arms.

Mary.
There'll be no sunset; all around is gloom.

Ben-Aaron.
No gloom where thou art—Meet me once again,
Just once, for I have loved thee.

Mary.
Only once?

Ben-Aaron.
But once, I swear it—and I'll give to thee—

Mary.
No gifts!—My life has had enough of gifts,
Enough of gifts and givers.

Ben-Aaron.
Then without—
For love's sake only. Shall it be to-night?

Mary.
To-night.

Ben-Aaron.
You'll meet me?

Mary.
In Gethsemane.

(Exeunt).