Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, Irish
"It is easy, Balkis, very easy, that sort of wisdom, for Nathan, as far
back as I can remember, has been dinning precepts and examples into my
ears. And at times, when things are difficult, comes a little
inspiration, like a little unpremeditated bar on a musician's psaltery.
And the tricks of reading a riddle are no more than the mason's tricks
of arranging stones. If the clouds be full of rain, they empty
themselves upon the earth: and if the tree fall toward the south or
toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall
be. And if that is wisdom, then I have wisdom. But I know not what is
the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her
that is with child."
"Poor Solomon!"
"O Balkis, I wanted to go out with the young men, and to understand
what they all understand and I do not understand: the way of an eagle
in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; to hunt and fish with
them and know the way of a ship in the midst of the sea. But I never
could, Balkis, for while still a boy Nathan made of me a man, an old
wise man. Woe to thee, O land, he prophesied, when thy king is a
child, and thy princes eat in the morning! So I 've always been a man,
Balkis, a wise old man."
"Dear, poor Solomon! Never were young."
"Never, dear Balkis, never. I must never be young, never do a wild
boyish thing. Dead flies cause the ointment of an apothecary to send
forth a stinking savor; so doth a little folly him that is in
reputation for wisdom and honor. O Balkis, the long wise days!"
"Poor Solomon! Poor dear Solomon!"
"O Balkis," he cried suddenly, "you came from afar to hear my wisdom,
and you heard a little mouse-like noise. And you wanted to commune
with me on what was in your heart, and I 've shown you my own heart,
that is like a troubled pool. Madness is in my heart while I live, and
after that I go to the dead. O Balkis, all is vanity and vexation of
spirit."
"Hush! hush dear Solomon!"
And very suddenly his body broke in sobs, and his dark head fell on her
leaning shoulder. There was a mist in her Arab eyes as she held him,
as she patted him:
"Hush, dear Solomon!"
V
And in the dusk of day, when the master masons and their helpers had
gone, he brought her to the temple he was building to his god, the
great temple that Hiram, the trader king of Tyre, was embellishing for
the reward of twenty cities in the land of Galilee. And Balkis's eyes
flashed with anger at the cunning of the Phoenician king. It was such
a shame to take advantage of the boy! Poor wise-foolish king! He was
like a child showing his toys.
"See these brass bases, Balkis, with the borders of lions and oxen and
cherubim. And the brazen wheels at each base. They say there are
cunning brass-workers in India, but surely there is no more beautiful
work than this. Surely they cannot beat this."
"Of course not, my dearest. Of course not."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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