Scene 2

      [Bianca's boudoir in the palace at Fiori. Bianca with a mirror in
      her hand, having her hair done by a maid. Several maids about,
      holding perfume-flasks, brushes, and veils, articles of apparel of
      one sort or another. Beatrice standing beside her, watching.]

  BIA. Look at me, Rose-Red. Am I pretty enough,
  Think you, to marry a King?

  BEA. You are too pretty.
  There is no justice in it. Marry a cobbler
  And make a king of him. It is unequal,—
  Here is one beggarly boy king in his own right,
  And king by right of you.

  BIA. Mario is not
  A beggarly boy! Nay, tell me truly, Beatrice,
  What do you think of him?

  BEA. La, by my soul!
  Have I not told you what I think of him
  A thousand times? He is graceful enough, I tell you,
  And hath a well-shaped head.

  BIA. Nay, is that all?

  BEA. Nay, hands and feet he hath, like any other.

  BIA. Oh, out upon you for a surly baggage!
  Why will you tease me so? You do not like him,
  I think.

  BEA. Snow-White! Forgive me! La, indeed,
  I was but jesting! By my sacred word,
  These brides are serious folk.

  BIA. I could not bear
  To wed a man that was displeasing to you.
  Loving him as I do, I could not choose
  But wed him, if he wished it, but 'twould hurt me
  To think he did not please you.

  BEA. Let me, then,
  Set your sweet heart at rest. You could not find
  In Christendom a man would please me more.

  BIA. Then I am happy.

  BEA. Aye, be happy, child.

  BIA. Why do you call me child?

  BEA. Faith, 'tis the season
  O' the year when I am older than you. Besides
  A bride is always younger than a spinster.

  BIA. A spinster! Do you come here to me, Rose-Red,
  Whilst I pinch you smartly! You, Arianna, push me
  Her Highness over here, that I may pinch her!
  [To Loretta.] Nay, is it finished?  Aye, 'tis very well.
  Though not so well, Loretta, as many a day
  When I was doing nothing!—Nay, my girl,
  'Tis well enough. He will take me as I am
  Or leave me as I was.—You may come back
  In half an hour, if you are grieved about it,
  And do it again. But go now,—all of you.
  I wish to be alone. [To Beatrice.] Not you.

      [Exeunt all but Bea. and Bia.]

  Oh, Rose-Red,
  I trust 'twill not be long before I see you
  As happy as you see me now!

  BEA. Indeed,
  I could not well be happier than I am.
  You do not know, maybe, how much I love you.

  BIA. Ah, but I do,—I have a measure for it!

  BEA. Ay, for today you have. But not for long.
  They say a bride forgets her friends,—she cleaves so
  To her new lord. It cannot but be true.
  You will be gone from me. There will be much
  To drive me from your mind.

  BIA. Shall I forget, then, When I am old, I ever was a child?
  I tell you I shall never think of you
  Throughout my life, without such tenderness
  As breaks the heart,—and I shall think of you
  Whenever I am most happy, whenever I am
  Most sad, whenever I see a beautiful thing.
  You are a burning lamp to me, a flame
  The wind cannot blow out, and I shall hold you
  High in my hand against whatever darkness.

  BEA. You are to me a silver bell in a tower.
  And when it rings I know I am near home.

  Scene 3

      [A room in the palace. Mario alone. Enter Beatrice.]

  BEA. Mario! I have a message for you!—Nay,
  You need not hang your head and shun me, Mario,
  Because you loved me once a little and now
  Love somebody else much more. The going of love
  Is no less honest than the coming of it.
  It is a human thing.

  MAR. Oh, Beatrice!
  What can I say to you?

  BEA. Nay, but indeed.
  Say nothing. All is said. I need no words
  To tell me you have been troubled in your heart,
  Thinking of me.

  MAR. What can I say to you!

  BEA. I tell you, my dear friend, you must forget
  This thing that makes you sad. I have forgotten,
  In seeing her so happy, that ever I wished
  For happiness myself. Indeed, indeed,
  I am much happier in her happiness
  Than if it were my own; 'tis doubly dear,
  I feel it in myself, yet all the time
  I know it to be hers, and am twice glad.

  MAR. I could be on my knees to you a lifetime,
  Nor pay you half the homage is your due.

  BEA. Pay me no homage, Mario,—but if it be
  I have your friendship, I shall treasure it.

  MAR. That you will have always.

  BEA. Then you will promise me
  Never to let her know. I never told her
  How it was with us, or that I cherished you
  More than another. It was on my tongue to tell her
  The moment she returned, but she had seen you
  Already on the bridge as she went by,
  And had leaned out to look at you, it seems,
  And you were looking at her,—and the first words
  She said, after she kissed me, were, "Oh, sister,
  I have looked at last by daylight on the man
  I see in my dreams!"

  MAR. [Tenderly.] Did she say that?

  BEA. [Drily.] Ay, that
  Was what she said.—By which I knew, you see,
  My dream was over,—it could not but be you.
  So that I said no word, but my quick blood
  Went suddenly quiet in my veins, and I felt
  Years older than Bianca. I drew her head
  Down to my shoulder, that she might not see my face,
  And she spoke on, and on. You must not tell her,
  Even when you both are old, and there is nothing
  To do but to remember. She would be withered
  With pity for me. She holds me very dear.

  MAR. I promise it, Rose-Red. And oh, believe me,
  I said no word to you last year that is not
  As true today! I hold you still the noblest
  Of women, and the bravest. I have not changed.
  Only last year I did not know I could love
  As I love now. Her gentleness has crept so
  Into my heart, it never will be out.
  That she should turn to me and cling to me
  And let me shelter her, is the great wonder
  Of the world. You stand alone. You need no shelter,
  Rose-Red.

  BEA. It may be so.

  MAR. Will you forgive me?

  BEA. I had not thought of that. If it will please you,
  Ay, surely.—And now, the reason for my coming:
  I have a message for you, of such vast import
  She could not trust it to a liv'ried page,
  Or even a courier. She bids me tell you
  She loves you still, although you have been parted
  Since four o'clock.

  MAR. [Happily.] Did she say that?

  BEA. Ay, Mario.
  I must return to her. It is not long now
  Till she will leave me.

  MAR. She will never leave you,
  She tells me, in her heart.

  BEA. [Happily.] Did she say that?

  MAR. Ay, that she did, and I was jealous of you
  One moment, till I called myself a fool.

  BEA. Nay, Mario, she does not take from you
  To give to me; and I am most content
  She told you that. I will go now. Farewell,
  Mario!

  MAR. Nay, we shall meet again, Beatrice!

  Scene 4

      [The ball-room of the palace at Fiori, raised place in back,
      surmounted by two big chairs, for Lorenzo and Octavia to sit while
      the dance goes on. Dais on one side, well down stage, in full sight
      of the audience, for Mario and Bianca. As the curtain rises the
      stage is empty except for Fidelio, who sits forlornly on the bottom
      steps of the raised place in the back of the stage, his lute across
      his knees, his head bowed upon it. Sound of laughter and
      conversation, possibly rattling of dishes, off stage, evidently a
      feast going on.]

  LAU. [Off stage.] Be still, or I will heave a plate at you!

  LUIGI. [Off stage.] Nay, gentle Laura, heave not the wedding-crockery,
  At the wedding-guest! Behold me on my knees
  To tell the world I love you like a fool!

  LAU. Get up, you oaf! Or here's a platter of gravy
  Will add the motley to your folly!

  LUIGI. Hold her,
  Some piteous fop, that liketh not to see
  Fine linen smeared with goose! Oh, gracious Laura,
  I never have seen a child sucking an orange
  But I wished an orange, too. This wedding irks me
  Because 'tis not mine own. Shall we be married
  Tuesday or Wednesday?

  LAU. Are you in earnest, Luigi?

  LUIGI. Ay, that I am, if never I was before.

  LAU.  La, I am lost! I am a married woman!
  Water!—Nay, wine will do! On Wednesday, then.
  I'll have it as far off as possible.

      [Enter from banquet-room Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele.]

  GIO. Well met, Fidelio! Give us a song!

  FID. Not I!

  GUI. Why, is this? You, that are dripping with song
  Weekdays, are dry of music for a wedding?

  FID. I have a headache. Go and sit in a tree,
  And make your own songs.

  RAF. Nay, Fidelio.
  String the sweet strings, man!

  GIO. Strike the pretty strings!

  GUI. Give us the silver strings!

  FID. Nay then, I will that!

      [He tears the strings off the lute and throws them in Guido's face.]

  Here be the strings, my merry gentlemen!
  Do you amuse yourselves with tying knots in them
  And hanging one another!—I have a headache.

      [He runs off, sobbing.]

  RAF. What ails him, think you?

  GIO. Troth, I have no notion.

      [Enter Nurse.]

  GUI. What ho, good Grazia! I hear my uncle
  Is ill again!

  GRA. Where heard you that, you raven?

  GUI. Marry, I forget. Is't true?

  GRA. It is as false
  As that you have forgotten where you heard it.
  Were you the heir to his power, which I bless God
  You're not!—he'd live to hide the throne from you
  Full many a long day yet!—Nay, pretty Guido,
  Your cousin is not yet Queen,—and when she is—Faith,
  She weareth a wide petticoat,—there'll be
  Scant room for you beside her! [Exit Nurse across stage]

  GUI. [To his companions.] None the less
  I do believe the king is ill.

  RAF. Who told you?

  GUI. His wife. She is much exercised about him.

  GIO. 'Tis like enough. This woman would rather lie
  Than have her breakfast served to her in bed.

      [Exeunt Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele.]

      [Music. Enter Musicians and take place on stage. Enter four pages
      and take places on either side the door as from the banquet-hall and
      on either side the throne in the back. Enter King and Queen, that is
      to say Lorenzo and Octavia, Lorenzo apparently quite well, and seat
      themselves on throne in back. Enter courtiers and ladies, Carlotta
      with Anselmo, Laura with Luigi, etc., and stand in little groups
      about the stage, laughing and talking together. Enter Beatrice
      alone, her train held by two pages in black. Enter twelve little
      Cupids, running, and do a short dance in the center of the room,
      then rush to the empty dais which is awaiting Mario and Bianca, and
      cluster about it. Enter Bianca and Mario, she in white and silver,
      with a deep sky blue velvet train six yards long, held up by six
      silver pages [or Cupids]; he in black and gold, with a purple velvet
      train of the same length held by six gold pages [or Cupids]. His arm
      is about her waist, she is leaning back her head against him and
      looking up into his face. They come in slowly, talking softly
      together, as utterly oblivious of the court, the pages, the music,
      everything, as if they were a shepherd and a shepherdess walking
      through a meadow. They walk slowly across the stage and seat
      themselves on the dais. The music changes, strikes up a gay pavane,
      or the equivalent of the period of the costumes, the ladies and
      courtiers dance. Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele re-enter just as the
      music starts and go up to the ladies; Guido goes to Beatrice, and
      she dances with him. In the midst of the dance Lorenzo slips a
      little sidewise in his chair, his head drops forward on his chest;
      he does not move again. Nobody notices for some time. The dance
      continues,  all who are not dancing watching the dancers, save
      Octavia, who watches with great pride and affection Bianca and
      Mario, who in turn are looking at one another. Octavia turns finally
      to speak to Lorenzo, stares at him, touches him, then screams.
      Beatrice should then be in a conspicuous place in the dance. Music
      stops in confusion on a dischord, dance breaks up wildly, everybody
      rushes to throne.]

  Scene 5

      [The same room later that evening, entirely empty, disordered.
      Musicians' benches overturned, for example, a couple of instruments
      left about, garlands trampled on the floor, a wing of one of the
      Cupids clinging to the dais of Bianca and Mario. Enter Beatrice,
      weeping, goes to her father's throne and creeps up into it, with her
      face towards the back of it and clings there, sobbing quietly. Enter
      Bianca and Mario,]

  BIA. [Softly.] Ay. She is here. I thought she would be here.
  There are so many people by his bed
  Even now, she cannot be alone with him.

  MAR. Is there no hope?

  BIA. Nay, there is none. 'Tis over.
  He was a kind old man.

  MAR. Come, let us go,
  And leave her to herself.

  BIA. Nay, Mario.
  I must not leave her. She will sit like that
  All night, unless I bid her come away,
  And put her into bed.

  MAR. Will you come to me
  After she sleeps?

  BIA. Ay. If she sleeps,

  MAR. And if not?

  BIA. I could not leave her.

  MAR. Bianca, do you love me?

  BIA. Ay, Mario!

  MAR. Ah, but not as I love you!

  BIA. You do not mean that, Mario; you know
  How much I love you. But I could not be happy
  Thinking of her awake in the darkness, weeping,
  And all alone.

  MAR. Oh, my sweet love.

  BIA. It may be
  She will sleep.

  MAR. I shall be waiting for you. [They embrace.]

      [Exit Mario. Bianca goes to Beatrice and sits at the
      foot of the throne, putting her head against Beatrice's
      feet.]

  BIA. Sister.

      [After a moment Beatrice slowly reaches down her hand, and
      Bianca takes it.]

  CURTAIN

  Scene 1—Five years later.

      [A marketplace in Fiori, vegetables, fruits and flowers exposed for
      sale in little stalls and wagons, crowd of townspeople moving about,
      talking, laughing, buying. Group of children playing a game in a
      ring. Supper time.]

  CHILDREN. One, two, three,
  The dough is in the oven!
  One, two, three,
  The bread is on the board!
  One, two, three.
  The dough is in the oven!
  One, two, three,
  The bread is on the board!
  One, two, three,
  All follow me!

  EUGENIA. Good-even, Giovanitta. Those are beautiful
  Onions you have there.

  GIO. Ay, it has been a good year
  For onions.

  EUG. I am taking seven.

  GIO. Each year,
  You buy another onion!

  EUG. Faith, each year
  I have another mouth to thrust it in!
  Beautiful carrots, too, you have.

  GIO. Ay, carrots
  Are well enough. One cannot complain. 'Tis a good year
  For carrots.

  CLARA. 'Tis a good year for many things.
  Prices are low,—but not too low for profit.

  GIULIANA. And there are fewer taxes than there once were
  On things one cannot live without.

  ANNA.  'Tis a good Queen
  We have, it must be granted.

  GIO. Ay, and a wise one.

  GILDA. And pretty, too.

  GIULIANA. Ho, ho! When did you see her?

  GILDA. This morning, mother. I was at the edge of the wood
  With Beppo, when they rode by to the hunt,
  Talking together, and laughing.

  BEPPO. [Calling from across the stage.] And the horses
  With feet like this!
  [Arching his hands and feet to represent a horse stepping delicately.]

  GILDA. And glittering in the sunshine
  In a thousand places, mother! I wanted to tell you
  When we returned, but you had gone to the brook
  With the linen. They were so near us we could hear them
  Talking.

  BEPPO. [Coming up.] And hear the horses breathe!

  ANNA. What said they?

  GILDA. Well, one of them said—what was the name?

  BEPPO. Anselmo.

  GILDA. Oh, ay. She said, "Anselmo, am I getting thinner
  Do you think? If I be not thinner than I was at starting,
  I shall descend at once! I like not this;
  It chatters my teeth."

  BEPPO. And then she said—

  GILDA. What said she?
  Oh, ay,—about the boat.

  BEPPO. She said, "Next time
  I shall go fishing instead of hunting. A boat
  Hath a more mannerly gait!"

  GILDA. There was one horse, mother,
  That was all white! There was not one hair upon him
  That was not white!

  GIULIANA. And who was riding that horse?

  BEPPO. A man. And riding well.

  GILDA. He was dressed in green,
  And had a yellow beard. And there was a lady
  With hair the color of Adelina's, bright
  Like fire. She was dressed in blue, and was most beautiful.

  BEPPO. And she was mounted on a dappled mare.

  GILDA. But, oh, it was the Queen that was more lovely—
  Than any of the rest!

  GIO. How did you know, now,
  It was the Queen?

  GILDA. Nay, but you could not help
  But know! She was not laughing like the rest,—
  Just smiling; and I would not have been afraid
  To toss a flower to her from the wood,
  If I had had a flower.

  BEPPO. You knew her, though,
  Because she was in scarlet. All the world knows
  She wears a scarlet mantle!

  GILDA. Nay, if that were all,
  It might have been the Pope!

  BEPPO. I would it had been.
  I never saw the Pope.

  GILDA. You never saw
  The Queen until this morning!—Mother, she rides
  Clothed like a man, almost!

  BEPPO. With sword at side!

  GILDA. And, oh, the sword had a jeweled—what is the name of it?

  BEPPO. Scabbard, of course!

  GILDA. A jeweled scabbard, mother!
  I wish I were a queen.

  BEPPO. Ho, you would make
  A proper queen, with that droll nose of yours!

  GILDA. I know a boy who likes my nose!

  BEPPO. Ho, ho!
  He must be a hunch-back!

  GIULIANA. You must not tease her, Beppo.

  GILDA. I wish I were queen. If I were a queen,
  You would not dare to say my nose is droll.

  BEPPO. It would be, all the same.

  GIO. You should be content
  With what you have, not cry to rise beyond it.
  It is a sin to covet.

  GIULIANA. Being a queen,
  My bird, is not all riding to the hunt
  Of a sunny morning.

  ANNA. Nay, 'tis riding back
  At times, of a rainy night, to such a burden
  Of cares as simple folk have little mind of.

  GILDA. I'd rather have a queen's cares than my own.

  BEPPO. Ho, ho! Your cares! What cares have you?

  GILDA. I have
  A brother that will be teasing me all times!
  'Tis cares enough for one, I tell you.

  ADELINA. [Across stage.] Beppo!
  Come help me fetch the milk!

  GILDA. Oh, Mister Beppo,
  Your sweetheart calls you! Run and fetch the milk!

  LEONORA. [From a house, coming out.] Come in to supper, children!

  RIGO. Oh, not just yet!

  ELENORA. Father's not home yet!

  LEONORA. You need not wait for him.

  LOUIS. May we come out again?

  LEONORA. [Joining other women.] Ay, for a time.
  Till it gets dark.

  RIGO. [To Louis.] 'Tis dark now, almost.

  LOUIS. Hush!
  She does not know it.

  GIULIANA. 'Tis dark now.

  LEONORA. Ay, I know.
  I let them play a little after dark
  Sometimes, when the weather's fine. I would not have them
  Afraid of shadows. They think I do not know
  Darkness from light.

  ELENORA. There's father now!

  RIGO. I see him!

      [Elenora, Louis and Rigo run off the stage and along the path.]

  LEONORA. He is late home today. I cannot think
  What may have held him. 'Twill be deep night already
  In the woods.

  CESCO. [Off stage, harshly.] Down! Down! Do you run back to your mother!
  See you not I am in haste?—Hang not upon me!

  EUG. La! He is in a temper!

  LEO. I never knew him
  So out of patience with them.

  GIU. He is hungry, maybe.

  LEO. He is often hungry, but I never knew him
  So out of patience. [The children come running back. To Elenora.]
  Why do you weep, my heart?

  LUI. Father is someone else tonight.

  ELENORA. [Weeping.] He pushed me!

      [Enter Cesco, with game on his shoulder, or a basket of mushrooms.]

  SEVERAL WOMEN. Good-even, Cesco.

  CES. [To Leonora.] Look you, Leonora,
  Have we a bed fit for a queen to lie in?

  LEO. Nay, faith! Not we!

  GIL. She can have my bed, mother.

  GIN. Ay, true. There is a bed in my house, Cesco.

  GIO. What will the queen do here?

  GIU. I would indeed
  She had let us know that she was coming!

  CES. The Queen
  Knew not herself. Nor is she coming of herself.
  They are bringing her,—on a litter of crossed boughs,

  GIL. She is not dead?

  CES. Nay. Wounded in the arm
  A little, and in a swoon. But the young King
  Of Lagoverde is no more!

  WOMEN. How so?

  CES. I tell you my two eyes have looked this day
  On a sad and useless thing!—A fine lad, young,
  And strong, and beautiful as a lad may be,
  And king of a fair country, thrust from horse
  By a foul blow, and sprawled upon the ground,—
  Legs wide asunder, fist full of brown mud,
  Hair in his eyes,—most pitiful unkingly!
  Bring me a mug of wine, good wife! [Leonora goes out.]

  GIO. You, Gilda!
  There is a queen you would not be tonight,
  I'll warrant you,—the Queen of Lagoverde,
  With her two fatherless babes!

  EUG. Nay, now, good Cesco,
  What is this matter?

  CES. You'll know it quick enough.
  They will be bringing the queen here ere I have breath
  To tell you. They are coming by the road,
  I took the mountain-path, and ran.

  GIU. I must hasten
  To put fresh sheets on. [To Gilda.] Look you,—listen well
  If he should talk, and tell me afterwards. [Exit.]

  EUG. Here comes Horatio! The boats are in.

      [Some children rush down to the water-side.]

  A good day, husband?

  HOR. Ay, a heavy day.
  What think you of that?—A big one, eh?—Came in
  With a school of little fish,—too greedy that time!
  What happens here?—The air is full of breathing!

      [The men come up from the boats with children clinging to them.
      Beppo and Adelina return from another direction with the milk.]

  LEO. [Somewhat proudly.] Cesco will tell you.

  CES. In a word 'tis this: Today the Queen of Fiori,
  Returning from the hunt, is set upon
  By brigands; where at the King of Lagoverde,
  Being hunting in that quarter and hearing cries,
  Comes up to give his aid; in rendering which
  He gives his life as well, and at this moment,
  On other men's legs, goes heavily home to supper.
  The Queen of Fiori, wounded, and in a swoon
  Only less deep than death itself, comes this way.

  CROWD. Ay, here they come! [Enter Anselmo.]

  ANS. Make way, make way, good people—
  Fall back a little—leave a clear space—give air!

      [Enter Laura and Francesca, Luigi, several gentlemen, several
      attendants, four of them bearing a litter on which lies Beatrice, in
      a scarlet cloak, her hair flowing. Luigi is with Laura, who clings
      to him. If possible to arrange, several of the party may lead on
      their horses and lead them off across the stage. The litter is set
      down stage in full sight of the audience. Beppo comes down stage
      near it, as does also, from another direction, Gilda. Giuliana
      returns.]

  ANS. Who has a bed that we may lay her on?
  She cannot leave this place tonight.

  GIU. This way, sir.

      [The attendants pick up the litter and go off, the crowd following.]

  GIL. [Stealing back.] Hist, Beppo!

  BEPPO. Ay?

  GIL. Heard you not something fall,
  When they picked her up again?

  BEPPO. Ay, that I did.

  GIL. What was it, think you? [They search.] Nay, 'twas nearer here.

  BEPPO. I have it.—'Tis her sword!

  GIL. The Queen's? Ay,—truly.
  How beautiful!

  BEPPO. [Slowly and with awe drawing it from its scabbard.]
  Look,—there is blood on it!

  Scene 2

      [A room in the palace at Lagoverde. Bianca and her two little
      daughters discovered at the rise of the curtain, she in a big chair,
      they at her feet.]

  BIA. And so the fairy laid a spell on her:
  Henceforth she should be ugly as a toad.
  But the good fairy, seeing this was done,
  And having in no wise power to alter this,
  Made all toads beautiful.

  LITTLE ROSE-RED. They are not beautiful
  Now, mother!

  LITTLE SNOW-WHITE. That was in another country!—
  What country, mother? [Bianca, lost in thought, does not answer.]

  LITTLE ROSE-RED. Where is father, mother?—
  I have not seen him in so many days!

  BIA. Father is gone away.

  LITTLE ROSE-RED. Will he come back?

  BIA. Nay. He will not come back. But we shall go
  Where he is.

  LITTLE SNOW-WHITE. Soon?

  BIA. God grant it may be soon!
  Now—-shall we play a game?

      [Enter Octavia.]

  OCT. Bianca.

  BIA. Ay.

  OCT. It is a folly to remain indoors
  Like this. You should be out in the sunshine.

  BIA. Nay.
  I have no business with the sunshine.

  OCT. Ah,
  My daughter, say not so!—The children, then,—
  They have much need of it, and they have need
  Of you, at the same time. Take them without.

  BIA. I do not wish to be in the sunshine.

  LITTLE SNOW-WHITE. Mother,
  Come out of doors!

  OCT. You see, now!

  BIA. Do you run out, dears,
  And play at ball. Mother will join you later.

  LITTLE ROSE-RED. Where is my ball?

  BIA. Nay, do you not remember?
  We put it in the ear of the stone griffin,
  Because he hears too much.

  LITTLE ROSE-RED. Ay, so we did!

  LITTLE SNOW-WHITE. Come on, Rose-Red! [Exeunt children.]

  OCT. It is a curious thing
  This friend of yours you rate so monstrous high
  Has not come nigh you in your sore affliction!

  BIA. I beg you not to speak of that again,
  Mother. 'Tis the third time today you have said that,
  Or hinted at it. And I answer always,
  "There is some reason for it," as I should answer
  Though you cried daily till the day of doom,
  "It is a curious thing!" There is some reason,
  There is some good reason why she does not come.

  OCT. Oh, ay, I doubt it not! But there are reasons
  And reasons!

  BIA. And what am I to learn from that?

  OCT. 'Tis scarce by reason of too much love for you
  She leaves you friendless in your greatest need.

  BIA. I cannot say. 'Tis one thing or another.
  You have no words can turn me to believe
  She has forgotten me, or loves me less.
  'Tis a big thing, to leave me thus alone,—
  And there is some big reason.

  OCT. Ay. Oh, ay.
  'Tis possible she grieves for Mario's death
  No less than you,

  BIA. [Simply] Ay, it is possible.
  I mind she told me on my marriage-day
  She was as happy as I.

  OCT. 'Tis a curious thing,
  When he was here she came to see you often,
  But now that he is gone comes not at all.

  BIA. [Simply.] Ay, it is curious. [Catching Octavia's expression.]

  BIA. Nay, what evil thing
  Is in your mind, gives you that evil smile?

  OCT. Only a little thought.

  BIA. A little thought,
  I'll warrant you!—You'd have me to believe
  She loved my husband?

  OCT. Ay, I know she loved him.

  BIA. It is a lie!

  OCT. How dare you say I lie!

  BIA. Oh, do not be so proud! Let us speak truth
  At length, a little! We are so garnished up
  With courtesies, so over-sauced and seasoned,
  We cannot taste each other! Why do you tell me
  A thing like that?—-You have no love for me!

  OCT. [Weeping,] I love you too much—you are the only thing
  I do love!

  BIA. Nay, it is not love of me
  For my own self. Else would you do the thing
  Would make me happiest. You know how I have loved her,
  Since we were children. You could not be to me
  What she was; one forgets too many things.
  You could not know my thought. I loved you dearly;
  But you were hard to love; one never knew
  Whether you would be hot or cold to touch.
  Whilst she and I,—oh, we were two young trees
  So nearly of a height we had the same world
  Ever within our vision!—Yet all these years,
  Even from the time we first went to Fiori,
  You have been bearing me your little tales,—
  "She had done this and that, she was thus and so—",
  Seeking to stir and poison the clear water
  Of my deep love for her! And now this thing.
  Which is not true. But if it had been true,
  It would not be so out of all reason cruel
  As that you should have told me of it now.
  Nay, do not weep. All day 'tis one of us
  Making the other weep. We are two strange,
  Unhappy women. Come, let us be at peace.

      [Pause. Bianca rises suddenly.]

  Mother, farewell a little while. I go now
  To her, seeing that she does not come to me.
  But not to question her, not to demand,
  "How comes it this? What can you say to that?"
  Only to sit beside her, as in the old days,
  And let her lay her quiet on my heart.

  Scene 3

      [The garden at Fiori, same as in Act I, Scene 1. Discovered seated
      on a stone bench in the sunshine, Beatrice, clad in a loose gown,
      looking very ill. Fidelio sings off stage.]

  FID. [Singing.]
  "Let the little birds sing,
  Let the little lambs play.
  Spring is here, and so 'tis spring,—
  But not in the old way.

  I recall a place
  Where a plum-tree grew,—
  There you lifted up your face
  And blossoms covered you.
  If the little birds sing,
  And the little lambs play,

  Spring is here, and so 'tis spring,—
  But not in the old way."

  BEA. It is a pretty song. There be some things
  That even the tortured heart's profoundest anguish
  Cannot bring down from their high place. Music
  Is one of them. [Enter Grazia carrying a bowl.]

  GRA. Now, will you drink this broth,
  Or will you not? I swear upon my shroud—
  And 'tis a solemn oath—I never nursed
  So vaporous a patient!—Come, my bird!

  BEA. [Taking the bowl, then setting it down.] Nay, Nurse, I cannot.

  GRA. Oh, alackaday!
  What shall I do with you? Come now, and drink me
  The pretty broth, my dear!

  BEA. I will drink it later.
  'Tis too hot.

  GRA. Ay, and in a moment 'twill be
  Too cold! And you'll not drink it! I could cry!

      [Exit Grazia.]
      [Enter Fidelio.]

  BEA. Fidelio, as you love me, do you drink this,
  And quickly, man!

  FID. [With grief.] Oh, my dear mistress!

  BEA. Drink!

  FID. [Sadly, drinking.] I best would leave a little, else she'll know
  'Twas never you.

  BEA. Ay, so you would. I' faith,
  It is a knave's trick, but I cannot touch it.
  Go now, Fidelio, ere she come again.

      [Exit Fidelio.]
      [Enter Bianca.]

  BIA. [Softly.] Rose-Red.

      [Beatrice looks up and listens, thinking it a dream.]

  BIA. Rose-Red, dear sister!

  BEA. [Bowing her head and weeping.] Oh, my heart!

  BIA. [Coming towards her.] Why do you weep?

  BEA. [Looking up startled and seeing her, jumping to her feet.]
  Oh, no! Oh, God above!
  Go back! Go back!

  BIA. [Amazed, quietly.] Beatrice, are you mad?
  'Tis I, Bianca.

  BEA. [More quietly.] Ay, I know 'tis you.
  And you must go away.

  BIA. [Breaking down.] You are mad, my dear!

  BEA. I would I were. For madmen have their moments
  Of light into the brain.—Hear me. Bianca,
  You must return at once to Lagoverde,
  And come to me no more, and think of me
  No more.

  BIA. Ay. I will go. But ere I go
  Tell me you do not love me, 'Tis apparent
  You do not. I but wish to hear the words.

  BEA. Nay, that I will not say. It would be well,
  To say it, and let it be. But I'll not say it,
  It is not true.

  BIA. You love me still?

  BEA. I love you
  More than all else on earth. But I have wronged you
  So hugely that I cannot think of it
  And stand here talking with you—I am ill—[She staggers.]
  You must pardon me—I have been very ill—

  BIA. Then it is true?

  BEA. [With a cry as of relief.] Ay, it is true! Who told you?

  BIA. My mother told me. I said it was not true.
  But if 'tis true—I pity you, Rose-Red,
  I pity him. I pity us all together.

  BEA. [Feverishly.] Ah, I can see it now!—the quiet road
  In the deep wood's gathering darkness, the reins loose
  On the horses' necks, that nodded, nodded, and we
  Speaking from time to time, and glad to think
  Of home,—and suddenly out of nowhere,—fury,
  And faces, and long swords, and a great noise!
  And even as I reached to draw my sword,
  The arm that held the scabbard set on fire,
  As if the sleeve were burning!—and my horse
  Backing into the trees, my hair caught, twisted,
  Torn out by the roots! Then from the road behind
  A second fury! And I turned, confused,
  Outraged with pain, and thrust,—and it was Mario!

  BIA. [Wildly.] What are you saying? What are you saying? What is this
  You are telling me? That it was you? Your hand—?
  Oh, God have mercy upon me! Let me go!

  BEA. [Pitifully, reaching out her arms towards her.]
  Snow-White! Snow-White!—farewell!

  BIA. [Without turning.] Oh, God have mercy!

      [Exit Bianca.]

      [Beatrice falls unconscious to the floor.]

  CURTAIN

  Scene 1

      [A room in the palace at Fiori. Anselmo and Luigi.]

  LUIGI. Nay, is that true, Anselmo?

  ANS. Aye, 'tis true.
  But no one saw save me, I drew her sword
  Out of his heart and thrust it in its scabbard,
  Where she lay senseless.

  LUI. Oh, unhappy Queen!

  ANS. Ay, she does not forget. Has it not struck you
  She rides no more? Her black horse stands in stable,
  Eating his head off. It is two years now
  Since she has visited Lagoverde; and the Queen
  Of Lagoverde comes not nigh this place.

  LUI. There's not the reason that there was to come
  Before Octavia's death.

  ANS. Nay, 'tis not that.

  LUI. Think you that Beatrice told her?

  ANS. Ay,
  I doubt it not.

  LUI. 'Tis hard. They were close friends.

  ANS. And since that day her hand upon the scepter
  Trembles,—and Guido sees. She goes too much
  Among the people, nursing them. She loves them;
  Their griefs are hers, their hearts are hers, as well.
  But Guido has a following in this court
  That hangs upon his word, and he has taught them
  Her gentleness is weakness, and her love
  Faint-hearted womanish whims, till they are eager
  To pull her down, and see a man in place of her.

  LUI. Her throne is like a raft upon a sea,
  That shifts, and rights itself, and may go down
  At any moment.

  ANS. The more especially
  For all these drowning beggars that cling to it,
  Chattering for help. She will not strike them off.

  LUI. Unhappy Queen. And there's a storm approaching,
  If ever I smelled wind.

  ANS. I fear it Luigi.

      [Exeunt Anselmo and Luigi. Enter Guido and Francesco.]

  FRA. How do I know you love her still?—I know,
  The way you fall a-tapping with your fingers,
  Or plucking at your eye-brows, if her name
  Is spoken, or she move across the court.
  How do I know?—Oh, Guido, have I learned you
  So little, then, in all these bitter years?
  I know you very well.

  GUI. You know too much
  I'll have an end of this, I tell you!

  FRA. Ay.
  You've told me that before.—An end of what?
  What is this thing you'll put this mighty end to?
  'Fore God I would I know. Could I but name it,
  I might have power to end it then, myself!

  GUI. I'll have an end of these soft words at twilight,
  And these bad mornings full of bile! I'll have an end
  Of all this spying on me!

  FRA. [Gently.] 'Tis not so.
  I do not spy upon you. But I see you
  Bigger than other men, and your least gesture—
  A giant moving rocks.—Oh, Guido, tell me
  You do not love her! Even though I know
  You lie, I will believe you,—for I must!

  GUI. [Pause.] Nay, I am done with you. I will tell you nothing.
  Out of my way!—I have that on my mind
  Would crush your silly skull like the shell of an egg!
  Od's body, will you keep your ugly claws
  From scratching at my sleeve?

      [He thrusts her roughly aside and rushes out.]

  FRA. [Creeping away, sobbing.] Oh, God—oh, God—
  I would whatever it is, that were over.

      [Exit.]

      [Enter Fidelio, and crosses the stage, singing.]

  FID. [Singing.]
  "Rain comes down
  And hushes the town.
  And where is the voice that I heard crying?
  Snow settles
  Over the nettles.
  Where is the voice that I heard crying?
  Sand at last
  On the drifting mast.
  And where is the voice that I heard crying?
  Earth now
  On the busy brow.
  And where is the voice that I heard crying?"

      [Exit Fidelio.]

  CLERK. The first case to be heard is that of Lisa,
  A widow with two small children, who resides
  Near the Duke's wood, and has been caught in the act
  Of cutting trees there, and hauling them home to burn.

  BEA. Stand, Lisa. You are a widow, I am told.
  With two small children.

  LISA. Ay, your Majesty,
  Two little boys.

  BEA. I know another widow, Lisa,
  With two small children,—but hers are little girls.
  Have you been cutting trees on the Duke's land?

  LISA. No, Majesty. I could not cut a tree.
  I have no axe.

  BEA. And are you strong enough
  To break a tree with your hands?

  LISA. No, Majesty.

  BEA. I see. What do you do, then? There must be
  Some reason for this plaint.

  LISA. I gather wood
  That's dead,—dried boughs, and underbrush that's been
  A long time on the ground, and drag it home.

  BEA. Have you a wood-pile?

  LISA.  Nay. I gather enough
  Each day for the day's need. I have no time
  To gather more.

  BEA. And does the dry wood burn
  As well as other wood?

  LISA. Oh, better!

  BEA. I see.
  You would as lief, then, have this wood you gather,
  This dead wood, as a green tree freshly cut?

  LISA. Ay, I would liefer have it, Majesty.
  I need a fire quickly. I have no time
  To wait for wood to season.

  BEA. You may sit down,

  LISA. Is the Duke's agent here?

  AGENT. Ay, here.

  BEA. What is it the Duke's custom to have done
  With this dead wood on his estate?

  AGENT. He burns it,
  Your Majesty.

  BEA. You mean to say, I think,
  He pays a price to have it gathered and burned.

  AGENT. Ay, Majesty.

  BEA. Where is it burned?

  AGENT. In a clearing.

  BEA. And what is cooked upon it?

  AGENT. Nothing is cooked.
  The Duke is not a gypsy. [With irritation.]

      [Pause.]
      [Slight titter in court-room, instantly hushed into profound silence.]

  BEA. [Evenly.] If he were,
  He would be shrewder, and not be paying money
  For what this woman is glad to do for naught.
  Nothing is cooked, and nobody is warmed,—
  A most unthrifty fire! Do you bid the Duke,
  Until he show me sounder cause for plaint,
  Permit this woman to gather unmolested
  Dead wood in his forest, and bear it home.—Lisa,
  Take care you break no half-green boughs.—The next case?

  CLERK. Is that of Mario, a miller, accused
  Of stealing grain. A baker, by name Pietro,
  Brings this complaint against him,

  MESSENGER. [Rushing in and up to throne.] Majesty,
  Bianca of Lagoverde lies a-dying,
  And calls for you!

  BEA. [Rising.] She calls for me?

  MESSENGER. Ay, Majesty.

      [Beatrice stands very still a moment, then turns to the townspeople.]

  BEA. [Earnestly and rapidly,] You people, do you go now and live kindly
  Till I return. I may not stay to judge you;
  Wherefore I set you free. For I would rather
  A knave should go at large than that a just man
  Be punished. If there be a knave among you,
  Let him live thoughtfully till I return.

      [She steps down from the throne, and is immediately
      seized by the arm on either side by the two guards who
      have been standing beside the throne.]

  BEA. Why, what is this, Enrico? [Looking up at the soldier on her right.]
  Nay, it is not
  Enrico! [Looking to other side.] Nor is it Pablo! How is this?

      [From each side of the stage one row of the double
      row of soldiers detaches itself, marches down around the
      front of the stage and up towards the throne, making an
      armed alley for the Queen to walk down, and entirely
      surrounding the crowd.]

  Nay, all new faces. So! Upon my word,
  And keep your fingers from me!—I see you there,
  Angelo! Do not turn your head aside!
  And you, Filippo!—Is the sick hand better
  I bound the bandage on?—Is't well enough
  To draw a sword against me?—Nay, I am sick.
  I, that have loved you as your mothers love you—
  And you do this to me! Lead me away.

      [The two guards lead out the Queen. Nobody else moves. The
      townspeople cower and stare. The two little pages that bore her
      train as she entered remain back of the throne, not knowing what to
      do. As she goes by them, her train dragging on the ground, the two
      ragged little boys of Lisa, the wood-gatherer, run out from the
      group of citizens, pick up the ends of her train, and go out,
      holding it up, one of them with his arm over his eyes.]

  Scene 3

      [A dungeon. Beatrice alone, sitting on a bench, her head bowed in
      her hands. Enter Guido]

  BEA. Guido, is't you!

  GUI. Ay, it is I, my Queen.
  You sent for me, am I mistake not?

  BEA. Ay.
  Guido, you will not keep me when I tell you
  Snow-White is dying and calls my name!

  GUI. I knew that.

  BEA. You knew that, and you hold me here. Oh, Heaven!
  What are you?

  GUI. I am a man. You should have thought
  Of that before. I could have been your friend
  If it had pleased you. Failing that, I am
  Your enemy. I am too aware of you,
  And have been ever, to hold me in at less.

  BEA. Guido. I beg of you upon my knees
  To let me go!

  GUI. And why should I do that?

  BEA. For pity's sake!

  GUI. I do not know the word.

  BEA. Then for the sake of my sworn hand and seal
  Upon a paper yielding fair to you
  This sovereignty you prize. It is to me
  Little enough tonight. I give it gladly.

  GUI. You have no power to give what I have taken
  Already, and hold upon my hand, Rose-Red,

  BEA. Oh, do not call me that! Oh, Guido, Guido,
  I cannot suffer further! Let me go!
  If only for a moment, let me go!
  I will return,—I will but take her hand,
  And come away! I swear it! Let me go!

  GUI. On one condition only.

  BEA. Ay! 'Tis granted,
  Ere it is spoken!

  GUI. That upon returning
  You come to me, and give yourself to me,
  To lie in my arms lovingly. [She is stricken speechless.] You hear?
  To lie in my arms lovingly.

  BEA. Oh, God!

  GUI. It is my only word.

  BEA. Oh, God! Oh, God!

  GUI. 'Tis granted?

  BEA. Nay,—I cannot! I will die
  Instead. Oh, God, to think that she will lie there
  And call for me, and I will never come!

  GUI. Goodnight. [He goes to door.]

  BEA. [In a quiet voice.] Guido!
  It shall be as you say.

  GUI. [Rushing to her.] Ah, Beatrice!

  BEA. Nay, touch me not yet.
  I will return. [She laughs like a child.] Why,—'tis a simple matter!
  I wonder now that even for a moment
  I held myself so dear! When for her sake
  All things are little things!—This foolish body,
  This body is not I! There is no I,
  Saving the need I have to go to her!