Chapter 2

[Scene: A garden with a fountain, at Fiori. Beatrice and Bianca sitting side by side on a low step. Evening.]

BEA. How beautiful it is to sit like this, Snow-White,--to think of much, and to say little.

BIA. Ay, it is beautiful. I shall remember All my life long these evenings that we spent Sitting just here, thinking together. [Pause.] Rose-Red, It is four years today since first we met. Did you know that?

BEA. Nay, is it?

BIA. Four years today. I liked you from the moment that I saw you, Beatrice!

BEA. I you, Bianca. From the very moment! I thought you were the prettiest little girl That I had ever seen.

BIA. I was afraid Of you, a little, at first,--you were a Princess, You see. But you explained that being a Princess Was much the same as anything else. 'Twas nice, You said, when people were nice, and when they were not nice 'Twas hateful, just the same as everything else. And then I saw your dolls, and they had noses All scratched, and wigs all matted, just like mine, Which reassured me even more!--I still, though, Think of you as a Princess; the way you do things Is much more wonderful than the way I do 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.]