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Updated: June 3, 2025
Mora, the girl, had felt thus; Mora, the woman, remembered it; and the Bishop, as he thought of both, offered up a thanksgiving that neither he nor Father Gervaise had done aught which was unworthy of the ideal of her girlhood's dream. Gathering up the reins, he urged Shulamite to a rapid trot. There must be no lingering by the way. Hasten, Shulamite! Even now the sluice-gates may be opening.
If love and Ben-Hur were enemies, the latter was never more at mercy. The Egyptian sat where he could not but see her; she, whom he had already engrossed in memory as his ideal of the Shulamite. With her eyes giving light to his, the stars might come out, and he not see them; and so they did. The night might fall with unrelieved darkness everywhere else; her look would make illumination for him.
The lovely Shulamite maiden, exposed to the Eastern sun while tending her kids and keeping the vineyards, had tanned a ruddy brown, beside which the daughters of Jerusalem, enclosed in King Solomon's scented harem, looked pale as wilting lilies.
But failing that timely hand when, a second later, it lies in a hundred pieces, the hands of the whole world are powerless to make it again as it was before it fell. Faster, faster, Shulamite!
Then he remembered "black, but comely," and arrived at the right name, Shulamite. Of course! Not Solomon but Shulamite. He had read that love-poem of the unnamed Eastern shepherd, with the Rabbi in the mountain fastness. The Rabbi had pointed out that the word used in that description signified "sunburned."
Yes; it was here. He had ridden in on Shulamite, from the heights above the town, whence he had watched the Prioress ride in the river meadow. He had found Hugh d'Argent awaiting him, and together they had paced this lawn in earnest conversation.
There were flowers growing close to him, violets and anemones, and on a ledge of rock above, the maiden-hair fern. His eyes falling upon them, they brought to his mind, suddenly and sadly enough, Deb and her flower ladies, all in a ring beneath the cedars Faith and Hope and Charity, Ruth and Esther and the Shulamite.
The Bible, of course, has more possibilities. There is some ravishing poetry in the Bible. Well, I can begin with the Bible, if you really prefer it, of course. The Song of Solomon, for instance. Oh, yes, that would be lovely! I'll divide it up into characters, and make each boy learn his part the shepherd, the Shulamite, King Solomon, and all the rest of them.
The good Minister had assuredly probed the problem to the quick; even as Elijah had breathed life into the body of the son of the Shulamite widow so had my uncle like a fiend from the pit breathed an evil spirit into poor 'Brownie's' body, and through him executed horrid deeds. Our great task was to prevent body and spirit from coming together again.
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