Zerubbabel went in search of Sheshana, to pour out his heart to her
and cry out his anger. He walked with rapid strides, looking neither
to right nor to left, and groaned heavily: “What a grievous shame!
What a deep disgrace!”
Impetuously he opened the door to Sheshana’s house, and he felt that
he would throw himself upon her bosom and wail out his immense
sorrow. He would bemoan his people, which he had lost,—his veneration
of it, his belief in it, which had gone never to return. But when he
beheld Sheshana he was rooted to the spot and his mouth could utter
no sound. She was dressed in sackcloth; she was pale, her eyes red
with much weeping, and her small form seemed even smaller and drawn.
When she saw Zerubbabel she burst into loud crying as if she had long
repressed it. Then, as she swallowed her tears, she spoke.
“You have come at last! At last you are here!—I thought that
something had befallen you and I sent after you, but my messengers
could not find you. They brought me the news, however, that you were
safe and sound and that you were running about among the people,
summoning them to armed resistance. I could not believe them and told
them that they brought me lies. But one after another came to me with
the same report and I was forced to believe it. The world became
dark and dreary to me. Naughty Zerubbabel, how could you forget me
at such a terrible time? How could you leave me alone in an hour of
peril? Don’t you know that your Sheshana is a timorous maiden,—that
her courage vanishes at the slightest danger? Oh, I am frightened to
death! I am frightened to death!”
Zerubbabel stood as one transfixed; his eyes shone like glowing
coals, his glance was stern and angry, and his voice was piercing.
“You know what I have been doing, and yet you can speak to me in
this manner? Zerubbabel went forth to rouse the Jewish people to
self-defence, to armed resistance, and his Sheshana dressed herself
in sackcloth and ashes and succumbed to fright! Can you be Sheshana?
Can you be my sweetheart? Was not your heart flooded with courage,
and did it not shout with jubilation because Zerubbabel was not among
the cowards and the despairers?”
Sheshana continued to weep and kept repeating, “Oh, I am frightened
to death! I am frightened to death!”
Zerubbabel shook his head and smiled cynically. “I thought I should
find a solace in you,—a balm for my grieving heart. Sheshana will
understand me and will side with me, I thought, and she will give
me strength. But woe to my wretchedness that is so great! Sheshana
greets me with tears, with petty fears and harsh words. And she has
no ears for me,—no heart....”
Sheshana, however, raised her head, pursing her lips with a surly
grimace. “I can have neither ears for you nor a heart. For that which
you desire is folly, and you are the butt of all men’s mockery.
‘Zerubbabel is a visionary,’ they say,—a dreamer. He demands the
impossible and utters dangerous things. He wishes to incite the
scant Jewish people against the numberless enemy, and calls that
self-defence. Why does he not preach, rather, that great and small,
men and women,—all the Jewish people—shall cast itself into the
rivers and streams that flow through the hundred and seven and twenty
provinces? That is what they are all saying, shaking their heads at
mention of you. And are they not right, and do they not speak with
justice? Then how could I feel delight, and whence should joy have
come to me? Because you forgot me, left me all alone and went in
pursuit of dangerous dreams?”
Zerubbabel raised his voice and uttered sharp words. “If you had
flayed my body with thorns and stung it with scorpions, you would
not hurt me so much as your words have done. When all the mockers
ridiculed me, my bosom was filled with anger and scorn, and I felt
strong in my opposition. But when you joined the mockery and added
your voice to the laughter, then I became the most unhappy, the
most wretched man under heaven. You have become a stranger to me,
Sheshana; with your words you have dug an abyss between us, and when
Zerubbabel has lost Sheshana, he has lost his life.”
With terror in her eyes the maiden cried, “Oh, how can you speak like
that?”
As she looked at him with her horror-stricken countenance and
her flaming cheeks, Zerubbabel’s heart was softened, and with a
passionate impulse he rushed to her, clasping her to him with all his
fire and tenderness. “My only one, my love,” he whispered, “do not
desert Zerubbabel. Do not mock me. Believe in me. Believe that I have
_not_ become demented and that I am _not_ a mere dreamer. Believe
that I have been born to great deeds, and I will accomplish them. I
will declare war against the scoffers and misleaders of the people
and will root them out. I will teach my people to be proud, and
will lead it to victory. Be you the spring from which I shall drink
strength for my bones and power for my veins. Pour courage into me
and cheer my weary soul. Tell me that I am right and they who scoff
at me are stricken with blindness. Tell me that you were mistaken and
that for only a moment were you alienated from your Zerubbabel.”
But Sheshana wept, hiding her face in her hands, and murmured, “I
cannot! I cannot!”
With passion more intense than ever Zerubbabel spoke to her. “See,
they wish to buy themselves free of danger with the body of Esther.
They send her to risk her life, and themselves they try to save with
fasting. And if Esther’s body avail not, they will have recourse
to money, or the body of some other beautiful woman, or both these
things together. Say, Sheshana, is this not despicable? Is it not
base and cowardly? Everything within me cries out in revolt against
it; does nothing cry out in you? Men—to send a woman’s body before
them! Sheshana, I have no words to express how contemptible that is!
Do you feel it, Sheshana? Do you not feel as if you had been soiled,
debased, spat upon? Sheshana, see how my muscles stiffen,—do you
see my strength? I feel that my arms are giant wings ready to bear
my people across every abyss and peril. Why do they fear to take up
arms? Victory or Death, but no purchasing our security! Men who hide
behind a woman have no sense of honour, and shall my whole people
consist of such men? Shall Zerubbabel’s people lack a sense of
honour? Does not your soul revolt against it all, Sheshana?”
But Sheshana lay quietly in his arms, speaking not a word. He clasped
her still, looking passionately into her eyes and asking as before,
“Tell me, Sheshana, tell me.”
At last Sheshana whispered her reply: “You remain with me, and let
them do as they deem best.”
“To the shame and dishonour of the whole Jewish people!” exclaimed
Zerubbabel, and a deep sadness suddenly came over him.
Then Sheshana spoke her tactless words: “They are in the majority,
and they know what is for the best.”
Zerubbabel recoiled as if a snake had bitten him. He was at first
impelled to cry with bitter lamentations, but he felt a great anger
surging within. He placed his hand on his heart and beat his breast,
then all at once turned to the door. He remained before it, leaning
heavily against it as he said, with a hoarse voice, “You will never
see me again, Sheshana!”
A tremor passed through her every limb; filled with fright and
despair she cried out, “But, Zerubbabel!”
Again he murmured, “You will never see me again, Sheshana!”
Terrified, again she shrieked, “But, Zerubbabel!” She brought her
white, shuddering hands to her cheeks and her glance was that of a
frightened, stupefied dove.
Zerubbabel spoke with a quivering voice: “I love you, and my love is
as strong as death. At night upon my couch I will call your name and
my heart will languish with yearning. I will gash my body with the
nails of my fingers and my eyes will burn under hot tears. But not
_you_ can be Zerubbabel’s wife,—not _you_ the mother of his children.
You will never see me again, Sheshana!”
Sheshana’s bosom heaved convulsively; her rapid breathing was choked
with tears, and her shriek was heart-rending. “Zerubbabel!”
But he had already opened the door, and standing upon the threshold
he turned his face to the maiden and said, in firm accents, “Go and
learn to be Zerubbabel’s wife!” Then he closed the door behind him.
She screamed; it was the cry of a wounded deer. She rushed to the
door, but her legs gave way beneath her. She stretched her hands out
against the closed door, groaning and bemoaning her great misfortune.
She could not speak. Her throat was as if clamped, and her tongue
could not move. Only later was she able to whisper the name scarce
audibly: “Zerubbabel, Zerubbabel, Zerubbabel!” Only his name could
she murmur, and nothing more. Then she threw herself upon the bed,
her hands pressed to her face, and her body in a heap, and it seemed
to her as if some one had slapped her.
And Zerubbabel strode on through the night and the gloom, far beyond
the city, into deep solitude, to the place where a huge cliff rose
high above a deep abyss.