Chapter X: Act II (6)

And now, to make the turn, Messala began to draw in[815] his left-hand steeds. His spirit was high; the Roman genius was still present. On the pillars,[816] only six hundred feet away, were fame, fortune, promotion, and a triumph[817] ineffably sweetened by hate,[818] all in store for him! That moment Ben-Hur leaned forward over his Arabs and gave them the reins.[819] Out flew[820] the many-folded lash in his hand; over the backs of the startled steeds it writhed[821] and hissed,[822] and hissed[823] and writhed[824] again and again, and, though it fell not, there were both sting and menace in its quick report. Instantly, not one, but the four as one, answered with a leap[825] that landed them alongside the Roman’s car. Messala, on the perilous edge of the goal, heard but dared not look to see what the awakening portended. The thousands on the benches understood it all. They saw the four close outside Messala’s outer wheel, Ben-Hur’s inner wheel behind the other’s car. Then, with a cunning touch[826] of the reins, Ben-Hur caught Messala’s fragile wheel with the iron-shod point of his axle and crushed[827] it. There was a crash loud enough to send a thrill through the circus, and out over[828] the course a spray of shining white and yellow flinders flew. Down on its right side toppled the bed of the Roman’s chariot. There was a rebound, as of the axle hitting the hard earth; another and another; then the car went to pieces, and Messala, entangled in the reins, pitched forward[829] headlong, and lay still, crushed, and bleeding, and crippled for life. Above the noises of the race arose one voice, that of Ben-Hur:

[830]“On, Altair! On, Rigel! What, Antares! dost thou linger now? Good horse-oho, Aldebaran! I hear them singing in the tents. I hear the children singing, and the women singing of the stars, of Altair, Antares, Rigel, Aldebaran, victory――and the song will never end. Well done! On, Antares! The tribe is waiting for us, and the master is waiting! ’tis done! ’tis done! Ha! ha! We have overthrown the proud! The hand that smote us is in the dust! Ours the glory! Ha! ha!――steady! The work is done――soho! Rest!”

And Ben-Hur turned the goal of victory and revenge,[831] and the race was won![832]

――_Gen. Lew Wallace._

GESTURES.
[765] B. V. H. F.
[766] H. F.
[767] B. raised P.
[768] B. A. O.
[769] B. H. O.
[770] H. F.
[771] Ind. H. F.
[772] Left H. O.
[773] H. L.
[774] P. D. O.
[775] H. F.
[776] Cli. D.
[777] H. O.
[778] P. Sp.
[779] Sp.
[780] Throw up fist.
[781] B. thrown outward, emphasize _us_.
[782] A. O.
[783] Point to Messala and look around.
[784] V. D. Sw.
[785] D. F.
[786] To left, raise hand.
[787] Ind. H. O.
[788] Sw. to H. O.
[789] Sp.
[790] H. F.
[791] B. P. H. O.
[792] Whip hand Cli. D. F.
[793] Up.
[794] Hand to breast.
[795] H. F.
[796] Imp.
[797] H. Sw.
[798] B. H. O.
[799] H. F.
[800] To left, raise hand.
[801] Repeat.
[802] Ind. H. F.
[803] H. F.
[804] H. F.
[805] A. Sw.
[806] Left H. F. Sp.
[807] Left D. F.
[808] - [809] Designate.
[810] H. F.
[811] A. Sw.
[812] H. F.
[813] H. F.
[814] Cli. raised.
[815] Left Sp.
[816] Ind. H. F.
[817] A. O.
[818] Cli. D.
[819] B. Sp.
[820] Sp.
[821] - [822] - [823] - [824] Motion as expressed.
[825] H. F.
[826] Sp.
[827] P. D. F.
[828] P. D. Sw.
[829] Sp.
[830] Chant this on two tones of the voice, higher pitch for
important words and lower for unimportant, holding reins in
both hands.
[831] A. O.
[832] H. F. strong.

Dolores.

Her old boat loaded with oranges,
Her baby tied on her breast,
Minorcan Dolores bends her oars,
Noting each reed[833] on the swift-moving shores;
But the way is long and the inlet wide――[834]
Can two small hands overcome the tide
Sweeping up from the west?

Four little walls of conquina stone,
Rude thatch of palmetto leaves;
There[835] they have nestled, like birds in a tree,[836]
From winter, and labor, and hunger free,
Taking from earth their small need, but no more;
No thought of the morrow,[837] no laying in store.
No gathering patient sheaves.

Alone in their southern island home,
Through the year of summer days,
The two live on; and the bountiful beach[838]
Clusters its sea-food within his reach;
The two love on, and the tropical land
And life is a shining haze.

Luiz, Dolores, and baby brown,
With dreamy, passionate eyes――
Far in the past,[839] lured by Saxon wiles,
A simple folk came from the Spanish sea-isles,
Now, tinged with the blood of the creole quadroon
Their children live idly along[840] the lagoon,
Under the Florida skies.[841]

Luiz, Dolores, and baby brown,
Ah! their blooming life of love!――
But fever falls, with its withering blight;[842]
Dolores keeps watch through the sultry night;
In vain[843] her poor herbs, in vain[844] her poor prayers,
Her Luiz is mounting the silver-winged stairs
That lead up[845] to heaven above.

So, her old boat loaded with oranges,
Her baby tied on her breast,
Dolores rows off to the ancient town,[846]
Where the blue-eyed soldiers come marching down
From the far cold North;[847] they are men who know――
Thus Dolores thinks――how to cure all[848] woe;
Nay, their very touch is blest.

“Oranges! Oranges!”[849] hear her cry,
Through the shaded plaza path;
But the Northern soldiers come marching in
Through the old Spanish city with stir and din;
And silent people[850] stand sullen by,
To see the old flag mount[851] again to the sky――
The flag they had trampled[852] in wrath.

Ah! brown Dolores, will no one hear,
And buy thy little store?
Now north,[853] now south,[854] on the old sea-wall,
But her pitiful tones unheeded fall;
Now east,[855] now west,[856] through the angry town,
Patient she journeys up and down,
Nor misses one surly door.

Then, desperate, up[857] to the dreaded ranks
She carries her passionate suit;
“I have no money,[858] for none would buy;
But come,[859] for God’s sake, or he will die!
Save him――my Luiz――he is so young,”
She pleads in her liquid Minorcan tongue,
And proffers[860] her store of fruit.

But the Northern soldiers move steadily on,[861]
They hear not, nor understand;
The last blue rank has passed down the street,[862]
She sees but the dust of their marching feet;[863]
They have crossed the whole country,[864] by night and by day,
And marked with their blood every step of the way,
To conquer[865] this Southern land.

They are gone――O despair![866] she turns to the church,[867]
Half fainting, her fruit wet with tears;
“Perhaps de old Saint, who is always dere,
May wake up and take dem to pay for a prayer;
They are very sweet, as the saint will see,
If he would but wake up and listen to me.
But he sleeps, so he never hears.”

She enters;[868] the church is filled[869] with men,
The pallid men of the North;
Each dingy old pew[870] is a sick man’s bed,
Each battered old bench[871] holds a weary head,
The altar candles are swept away,[872]
For vials and knives in shining array,
And a new saint[873] is stepping forth.

He must be a saint, for he comes from the shrine,
A saint of a Northern creed,
Clad in a uniform, army blue,
But surely the saints may wear any hue,[874]
Dolores thinks, as he takes her hand,
And hears all her story, and understands
The cry of her desperate need.

An orange he gives to each weary man,[875]
To freshen the fevered mouth,
Then forth[876] they go down the old sea-wall,
And they hear[877] in the dusk the pickets call,
And the row-boat is moored on the shadowy shore,[878]
The Northern saint can manage an oar,
And the boat glides fast[879] to the south.

A healing touch and a holy drink,
A bright little heavenly knife,
And this Northern saint, who prays no prayers,
Brings back the soul from the spirit-winged stairs,[880]
And once more Minorcan Luiz’s dark eyes,
In whose depths the warmth of the tropics lies,
Rest calm[881] on the awe-stricken wife.

“Oh! dear Nordern saint![882] a shrine will I build,
Wild roses I’ll bring from afar,[883]
De jasmine, orange flower, wood tulips bright,
And dose will I worship each morning and night.”
“Nay, nay![884] poor Dolores, I am but a man,
A surgeon, who binds up, with what skill he can,
The wounds of this heart-breaking man.

“See, build me no shrines, but take this small book,[885]
And teach the brown baby to read.”
He is gone, and Dolores is left on the shore,
She watches the boat[886] till she sees it no more,
She hears[887] the quick musketry all through the night,
She holds fast the book in her pine knot’s red light,
The book of the Northern creed.

* * * * *

The sad war is over, the dear peace has come,
The blue-coated soldiers depart.[888]
The brown baby reads the small book, and the three
Live on in their isle in the Florida sea,
The brown baby learns many things wise and strange,
But all[889] his new English words never can change
The faith of Dolores’ fond heart.

GESTURES.
[833] H. Sw. at side.
[834] B. H. O.
[835] H. O.
[836] A. O.
[837] H. F.
[838] D. O.
[839] H. B.
[840] H. Sw.
[841] Glance up.
[842] P. H. O.
[843] H. L.
[844] Imp.
[845] A. F.
[846] H. F.
[847] Left H. L.
[848] H. O.
[849] Listen.
[850] H. O.
[851] A. O.
[852] P. D. O.
[853] Left H. L.
[854] H. L.
[855] H. F.
[856] H. B.
[857] H. F.
[858] B. D. L.
[859] B. Cla.
[860] B. H. F.
[861] H. Sw.
[862] Look to R. bending forward.
[863] H. L.
[864] B. H. O.
[866] D. F.
[866] B. Cli. D.
[867] H. F.
[868] H. F.
[869] B. H. O.
[870] H. Sw.
[871] Left H. Sw.
[872] V. H. Sw.
[873] H. F.
[874] H. O.
[875] H. Sw.
[876] H. F.
[877] Lis.
[878] D. O.
[879] H. Sw.
[880] A. O.
[881] P. H. O.
[882] B. Cla.
[883] H. L.
[884] V. H. O.
[885] H. O.
[886] Hand over eyes.
[887] Listen.
[888] Left H. L.
[889] B. H. O.

Scene from Merchant of Venice.