From out of a dream Samson rose up where he sat, and stretched his arms. And he burst asunder the ropes knotted about him as if they were pack-thread. And when Delilah realized that he had deceived and outwitted her a second time, tears of rage filled her eyes. But she turned and restrained herself, pouring out her reproaches, as if she were weeping only because he had made mock of her.

‘Why, and what danger could there be?’ she taunted him. ‘Are we not alone? The mighty one of Israel is as timid as a hare. Have I ever proved false to thee in anything? Surely no man who has any courage in him would lie and lie again! I am of no more importance in thy sight than a child that must be put off with any idle tale that comes into its father’s head.’

And as Samson soothed and solaced her, gazing fondly into her dark narrow face, her cheeks inflamed flamed with weeping, he was so much blinded by her beauty to the treachery that was in her heart that he was almost persuaded to tell her his secret. But he remembered his vow, and heeded the warnings of the voice within him, though he was loth to obey it. And as he sat brooding, his eyes wandered from Delilah’s face and fixed themselves upon her loom.

And when once more she dried her eyes and besought him by everything he held dear to vex and cheat her no more, but to confess his secret, ‘Now hearken,’ he said; ‘but first, I entreat thee not to enrage me again with warnings that danger is near. I might believe it to be the truth and be moved once more to teach the Philistines, who as God knows are the enemies of Israel, that it is for no love of them that day after day I venture over the border. Maybe I have told thee foolish stories, but why shouldst thou desire to share a secret that I have sworn never to reveal? It is thou who art deceiving me. But now, hearken! Bow-strings and ropes, thongs and bonds are less than nought to me. My strength is in me myself. And if thou should weave the seven braided locks of my hair into the web of thy loom yonder, the virtue would be gone out of me, and I should be weak as a sheep in the hands of the shearers.’

Delilah laughed and was satisfied. And when next evening, wearied out by the heat of the day, Samson had laid himself down to rest awhile, and had fallen asleep close beside her loom, she softly and warily wove his long hair into its web, and twisted and beat it close in together with her weaving pin. When she had finished this handiwork and stayed to watch him a while, it seemed to her impossible that any man of his own strength, whether human or divine, could win free again.

Still as a child he lay in his sleep—this Samson, matchless among men for might and beauty and for courage. For a moment her heart wavered and she sickened of her treachery. But memory of the bribe soon to be hers, and of his deceits in the past rose up in her, and with a gesture of contempt the woman turned stealthily towards the inner room; and having assured herself that the captain of the Philistines with his men were in their hiding-place, she cried suddenly and wildly as if in terror: ‘Oh, Oh! Alas! Alas! The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!’ And she roused him from his sleep.

Samson awoke, gazing drowsily about him, and he raised himself upon his knees. Then, as if he were merely drawing tent-pegs out of sand, with one heave of his shoulders he wrenched out not only the web of the loom but the posts also that held it securely to the ground, and he stood up upon his feet. And Delilah flung herself flat upon the ground and wept.

When for the third time the lords of the Philistines knew that Samson had deceived Delilah, they were bitterly incensed against her, and sent word that she should have but one more opportunity of winning the bribe they had offered her. Moreover, they warned her that if she failed yet again to deliver Samson into their hands, they would burn down her house over her head.

At this message Delilah’s face wanned with fear. As the days went by she could neither eat nor sleep for dread of the vengeance overhanging her; and she gave Samson no peace.

He brought her gifts, but she refused to be comforted. ‘How canst thou say, “I love thee”?’ she repeated again and again, sighing and weeping.