you are but poorly served.

SWANWHITE. You are so sad!

PRINCE. My mother died quite recently.

SWANWHITE. Poor little prince!—My mother, too, has gone to God in heaven, and she's an angel now. Sometimes in the nights I see her—do you also see yours?

PRINCE. No-o.

SWANWHITE. And have you got a stepmother?

PRINCE. Not yet. So little time has passed since she was laid to rest.

SWANWHITE. Don't be so sad! There's nothing but will wear away in time, you see. Now I'll give you a flag to gladden you again—Oh, no, that's right—this one I sewed for the young king. But now I'll sew another one for you!—This is the king's, with seven flaming fires—you shall have one with seven red roses on it—but first of all you have to hold this skein of yarn for me. [She takes from the chest a skein of rose-coloured yarn and hands it to the PRINCE] One, two, three, and now you'll see!—Your hands are trembling—that won't do!—Perhaps you want a hair of mine among the yarn?—Pull one yourself!

PRINCE. Oh, no, I couldn't——

SWANWHITE. I'll do it, then, myself. [She pulls a hair from her head and winds it into the ball of yarn] What is your name?

PRINCE. You shouldn't ask.

SWANWHITE. Why not?

PRINCE. The duke has told you—hasn't he?

SWANWHITE. No, he hasn't! What could happen if you told your name? Might something dreadful happen?

PRINCE. The duke has told you, I am sure.

SWANWHITE. I never heard of such a thing before—of one who couldn't tell his name!

The curtain behind which the peacock is hidden moves; a faint sound as of castanets is heard.

PRINCE. What was that?

SWANWHITE. That's Pavo—do you think he knows what we are saying?

PRINCE. It's hard to tell.

SWANWHITE. Well, what's your name?

Again the peacock makes the same kind of sound with his bill.

PRINCE. I am afraid—don't ask again!

SWANWHITE. He snaps his bill, that's all—Keep your hands still!—Did you ever hear the tale of the little princess that mustn't mention the name of the prince, lest something happen? And do you know——?

The curtain hiding the peacock is pulled aside, and the bird is seen spreading out his tail so that it looks as if all the "eyes" were staring at SWANWHITE and the PRINCE.

PRINCE. Who pulled away the curtain? Who made the bird behold us with its hundred eyes?—You mustn't ask again!

SWANWHITE. Perhaps I mustn't—Down, Pavo—there!

The curtain resumes its previous position.

PRINCE. Is this place haunted?

SWANWHITE. You mean that things will happen—just like that? Oh, well, so much is happening here—but I have grown accustomed to it. And then, besides—they call my stepmother a witch—There, now, I have pricked my finger!

PRINCE. What did you prick it with?

SWANWHITE. There was a splinter in the yarn. The sheep have been locked up all winter—and then such things will happen. Please see if you can get it out.

PRINCE. We must sit at the table then, so I can see.

[They rise and take seats at the table.

SWANWHITE. [Holding out one of her little fingers] Can you see anything?

PRINCE. What do I see? Your hand is red within, and through it all the world and life itself appear in rosy colouring——

SWANWHITE. Now pull the splinter out—ooh, it hurts!

PRINCE. But I shall have to hurt you, too—and ask your pardon in advance!

SWANWHITE. Oh, help me, please!

PRINCE. [Squeezing her little finger and pulling out the splinter with his nails] There is the cruel little thing that dared to do you harm.

SWANWHITE. Now you must suck the blood to keep the wound from festering.

PRINCE. [Sucking the blood from her finger] I've drunk your blood—and so I am your foster-brother now.

SWANWHITE. My foster-brother—so you were at once—or how do you think I could have talked to you as I have done?

PRINCE. If you have talked to me like that, how did I talk to you?

SWANWHITE. Just think, he didn't notice it!—And now I have got a brother of my own, and that is you!—My little brother—take my hand!

PRINCE. [Taking her hand] My little sister! [Feels her pulse beating under his thumb] What have you there, that's ticking—one, and two, and three, and four——? Continues to count silently after having looked at his watch.

SWANWHITE. Yes, tell me what it is that ticks—so steady, steady, steady? It cannot be my heart, for that is here, beneath my breast—Put your hand here, and you can feel it too. [The doves begin to stir and coo] What is it, little white ones?

PRINCE. And sixty! Now I know what makes that ticking—it is the time! Your little finger is the second-hand that's ticking sixty times for every minute that goes by. And don't you think there is a heart within the watch?

SWANWHITE. [Handling the watch] We cannot reach the inside of the watch—no more than of the heart—Just feel my heart!

SIGNE. [Enters from the pewter-closet carrying a whip, which she puts down on the table] Her Grace commands that the children be seated at opposite sides of the table.

The PRINCE sits down at the opposite end of the table. He and SWANWHITE look at each other in silence for a while.

SWANWHITE. Now we are far apart, and yet a little nearer than before.

PRINCE. It's when we part that we come nearest to each other.

SWANWHITE. And you know that?

PRINCE. I have just learned it!

SWANWHITE. Now my instruction has begun.

PRINCE. You're teaching me!

SWANWHITE. [Pointing to a dish of fruit] Would you like some fruit?

PRINCE. No, eating is so ugly.

SWANWHITE. Yes, so it is.

PRINCE. Three maids are standing there—one in the pewter-closet, one among the clothes, and one among the fruits. Why are they standing there?

SWANWHITE. To watch us two—lest we do anything that is forbidden.

PRINCE. May we not go into the rosery?

SWANWHITE. The morning is the only time when I can go into the rosery, for there the bloodhounds of my stepmother are kept. They never let me reach the shore—and so I get no chance to