That may be, And yet I know not whence. TEMPLAR. It matters not, She shall, she must in either case from me First learn what fate is threatening. My fixed purpose To see her not again, nor speak to her, Till I might call her mine, is gone. I hasten— NATHAN. Stay, whither would you go? TEMPLAR. To her, to learn If this girl’s soul be masculine enough To form the only resolution worthy Herself. NATHAN. What resolution? TEMPLAR. This—to ask No more about her brother and her father, And— NATHAN. And— TEMPLAR. To follow me. E’en if she were So doing to become a Moslem’s wife. NATHAN. Stay, you’ll not find her—she is now with Sittah, The Sultan’s sister. TEMPLAR. How long since, and wherefore? NATHAN. And would you there behold her brother, come Thither with me. TEMPLAR. Her brother, whose then? Sittah’s Or Recha’s do you mean? NATHAN. Both, both, perchance. Come this way—I beseech you, come with me. [_Leads off the Templar with him_. SCENE.—The Sultan’s Palace. A Room in Sittah’s Apartment. SITTAH _and_ RECHA. SITTAH. How I am pleased with thee, sweet girl! But do Shake off this perturbation, be not anxious, Be not alarmed, I want to hear thee talk— Be cheerful. RECHA. Princess! SITTAH. No, not princess, child. Call me thy friend, or Sittah, or thy sister, Or rather aunt, for I might well be thine; So young, so good, so prudent, so much knowledge, You must have read a great deal to be thus. RECHA. I read—you’re laughing, Sittah, at your sister, I scarce can read. SITTAH. Scarce can, you little fibber. RECHA. My father’s hand or so—I thought you spoke Of books. SITTAH. Aye, surely so I did, of books. RECHA. Well really now it puzzles me to read them. SITTAH. In earnest? RECHA. Yes, in earnest, for my father Hates cold book-learning, which makes an impression With its dead letters only on the brain. SITTAH.