has been surveying her with surprise and uneasiness_).

O Daja, Daja! if in hasty hours
Of care and grief, this unchecked tongue of mine
Betrayed me into rudeness, why convey
To her each idle word that leaves my lips?
This is indeed too galling a revenge!
Yet, if henceforth, you will interpret better----

DAJA.

I question if these little stings, Sir Knight,
Were so shot forth as to have done you wrong.

RECHA.

How! you had cares, and were more covetous
Of them than of your life.

TEMPLAR.

Thou best of beings,
How is my soul with eye and ear at strife?
No, 'twas not she I rescued from the fire,
For who could know her and forbear the deed?
In truth, disguised by terror----
(_He gazes on her as if entranced_.)

RECHA.

But to me
You still appear the same as then you seemed.
(_A pause, till she resumes in order to interrupt his reverie_.)
Tell me, Sir Knight, where have you been so long?
And--I might almost ask--where are you now?

TEMPLAR.

I am where I, perhaps, ought not to be.

RECHA.

And been, perhaps, where you should not have been.
That is not well.

TEMPLAR.

I have been up the mountain--
What is the name?--ay! Sinai!

RECHA.

I am glad;
For, doubtless, you can tell me if 'tis true----

TEMPLAR.

If what is true? If holy people show
The spot where Moses stood before his God?

RECHA.

Oh no; not that. Wherever Moses stood
It was before his God. I know enough
About such things already. Is it true--
I wish to learn from you who have been there--
If it is not by far less difficult
To climb than to descend the holy mount?
For with all other mountains that I know,
'Tis quite the contrary. You turn away!
Why do you turn, Sir Knight? Nay, look at me.

TEMPLAR.

I wish to hear you rather.

RECHA.

I perceive,
Because you do n