altar's sunken steps.
O, how I felt, when there, with streaming eyes
And wringing hands, down at my feet she fell!

SITTAH.

Good child!

RECHA.

And, by the Holy Virgin, who had heard
So many suppliants' prayers, and had performed
Full many a wonder there, she begged, implored
With looks of heart-felt sympathy and love,
That I would now take pity on myself,
And pardon her for daring to unfold
The nature of the Church's claims on me.

SITTAH.

I guessed as much.

RECHA.

I'm born of Christian blood,
Have been baptised, and am not Nathan's child!
Nathan is not my father! God, O God!
He's not my father, Sittah! Now, behold,
I'm once more prostrate at your feet.

SITTAH.

Arise!
Recha, arise! behold, my brother comes.

Scene VII.

Saladin, Sittah, _and_ Recha.

SALADIN.

What is the matter, Sittah?

SITTAH.

She has swooned.

SALADIN.

Who is she?
SITTAH.

Don't you know?

SALADIN.

'Tis Nathan's child.
What ails her?
SITTAH.

Look up, Recha! 'tis the Sultan.

RECHA (_crawling to Saladin's feet_).

No, I'll not rise--not rise nor even look
Upon the Sultan's countenance, nor wonder
At the bright lustre of unchanging truth
And goodness on his brow and in his eye,
Before----

SITTAH.

Rise, rise!

RECHA.

Before he promises----

SALADIN.

Come, come! I promise, whatsoe'er your prayer.

RECHA.

'Tis only this--to leave my father to me,
And me to him. As yet I cannot tell
Who seeks to be my father: who it is
Can harbour such a wish I'll ne'er inquire.
Does blood alone make fathers--blood alone?