aunched 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,"
Bic