Chapter 11

[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