The Lamp and the Bell | Page 7

them!-- The way you speak to the servants,
even the way You pick up something that you drop.
BEA. You goose! 'Tis not because I'm a princess you feel that way--
I've always thought the same thing about you!-- The way you draw
your gloves on is to me More marvelous than the way the sun comes
up!

[They both burst out laughing.]
BEA. Oh, lud,--how droll we are!
BIA. Oh, I shall die Of laughing! Think you anyone else, Rose-Red,
Was ever half so silly?
BEA. I dare wager There be a thousand, in this realm alone, Some even
sillier!
BIA. Here comes Fidelio! [Enter Fidelio.]
BEA. Fidelio, sing to us,--there is no nightingale Abroad tonight, save
you. And the night cries For music!
BIA. Sing, Fidelio!
FID. I have no thorn To lean my breast on. I've been happy all day,
And happiness ever made a crow of me.
BEA. Sing, none the less,--unless you have a cold, Which is a singer's
only rock of refuge. You have no cold, or you would not be happy. So
sing.
FID. [Singing.] "Oh, little rose-tree, bloom! Summer is nearly over.
The dahlias bleed and the phlox is seed, Nothing's left of the clover,
And the path of the poppy no one knows,-- I would blossom if I were a
rose!
Summer for all your guile Will brown in a week to autumn, And
launched leaves throw a shadow below Over the brook's clear bottom,
And the chariest bud the year can boast Be brought to bloom by the
chastening frost! Oh, little rose-tree, bloom!"
[As he finishes the song Fidelio goes out, softly strumming the last
chords. Bianca and Beatrice did sit quite still for a moment.]
BIA. Do you know what I am thinking, Bice?

BEA. You're wondering where we'll be ten years from now, Or
something of that nature.
BIA. Ay, I was wondering Which would be married first, and go away,
And would we still be friends.
BEA. Oh, do you doubt it, Snow-White?
BIA. Nay, nay,--I doubt it not, my dear,-- But I was wondering. I am
suddenly sad, I know not why. I do not wish to leave you Ever.
BEA. I know. I cannot bear To think of parting. We have been happy
these four years Together, have we not?
BIA. Oh, Beatrice! [She weeps.]
BEA. Nay, do not weep!--Come, you must go to bed. You are tired
tonight. We rode too far today.
[She draws Bianca's head down to her shoulder.]
Oh, you are tired, tired, you are very tired. You must be rocked to sleep,
and tucked in bed, And have your eyelids kissed to make you dream Of
fairies! Come, dear, come.
BIA. Oh, I do love you, Rose-Red! You are so sweet! Oh, I do love you
So much!--so much! I never loved anyone The way that I love you!
There is nobody In all the world so wonderful as you!
[She throws her arms about Beatrice and clings to her.]

Scene 3
[A room in the palace at Fiori. Lorenzo and Beatrice playing chess.
Twilight.]
LOR. You'll not be able to get out of that, I think, my girl, with both

your castles gone.
BEA. Be not so sure!--I have a horse still, father, And in a strong
position: if I move him here, You lose your bishop; and if you take my
bishop, You lose your queen.
LOR. True, but with my two rooks Set here, where I can push them
back and forth, My king is safe till worms come in and eat him.
BEA. What say you then to this?--Will you take this pawn, Or will you
not?
LOR. [Studying the board.] Od's bones!--where did that come from?
[Enter Octavia.]
OCT. La, would you lose your eyesight, both of you?-- Fumbling about
those chessmen in the dark? You, Beatrice, at least, should have more
wit!
LOR. "At least"--hm!--Did you hear her say, "at least," Bice, my
daughter?
BEA. Ay. But it is true The twilight comes before one knows it.
LOR. Ay. 'Tis true, but unimportant. Nevertheless, I am a tractable old
fellow.--Look you, I will but stay to map the lay of the pieces Upon this
bit of letter. 'Tis from a king Who could not tell the bishop from the
board,-- And yet went blind at forty.--A little chess By twilight, mark
you, and all might have been well.
[Enter Bianca.]
BIA. Oh,--I've been looking everywhere for you?
OCT. [Drily.] For me?
BIA. Nay, mother,--for Beatrice. Bice, The rose is out at last upon that
bush That never blossomed before,--and it is white As linen, just as I

said 'twould be!
BEA. Why, the bud Was redder than a radish!
BIA. Ay, I know. But the blossom's white, pure white. Come out and
see! [Politely.] Would you