The Lamp and the Bell Part 3

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 n.o.body 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 p.a.w.n, 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 radis.h.!.+

BIA. Ay, I know.

But the blossom's white, pure white. Come out and see!

[Politely.] Would you like to see it, mother?

OCT. Nay, not now, child.

Some other time.

BEA. Father, we'll end the game Tomorrow; and do you not be scheming at it All night!

LOR. Nay, I will not unfold the chart.

BEA. But you remember well enough without; Promise me not to think of it.

LOR. I' faith, You are a desperate woman. Ay, I promise.

[Exeunt Bianca and Beatrice. Octavia seats herself. Pause.]

OCT. I tell you, as I've told you often before, Lorenzo, 'tis not good for two young girls To be so much together!

LOR. As you say, Octavia. For myself, I must confess It seems a natural thing, enough, that youth Should seek out youth. And if they are better pleased Talking together than listening to us, I find it not unnatural. What have we To say to children?--They are as different From older folk as fairies are from them.

OCT. "Talking together," Lorenzo! What have they To talk about, save things they might much better Leave undiscussed?--you know what I mean,--lovers, And marriage, and all that--if that is all!

One never knows--it is impossible To hear what they are saying; they either speak In whispers, or burst out in fits of laughter At some incredible nonsense. There is nothing So silly as young girls at just that age.-- At just Bianca's age, that is to say.

As for the other,--as for Beatrice, She's older than Bianca, and I'll not have her Putting ideas into my daughter's head!