SCENE III
Herodias, Salome.
SALOME
[Putting her head through the door.] Mother, am I to dance here?
HERODIAS
Come, softly. Art thou trembling, my dove? Art thou afraid of thy own will?
SALOME
Take my hand, mother. I am not trembling, because I know that thou art my will.
HERODIAS
Not I! thou must will.
SALOME
For only the one who willeth exerciseth power. [As Herodias regards her suspiciously, she adds quickly.] I read that in the Scriptures, mother. I did not understand what it meant.
HERODIAS
Listen to me, thou sharpwits. A carpet of Indian wool will be spread here, there the Prince will sit with the foreign guests.... Let not thy foot touch the stone, raise not thy eyes.... Dance thy dance modestly, and when thou hast finished, wipe signs of shame from thy face; hearken narrowly to what the Tetrarch saith to thee. And if he should say, "Now ask of me, and----"
SALOME
What then, mother?
HERODIAS
Ask nothing.... Then look at him for the first time a long, smiling look, and ... ask nothing. After that thou mayest demand.
SALOME
[Attentive.] What shall I demand, mother? A gold hair-ornament, or shoes of velvet? No; I know what I'll demand--a mirror.
HERODIAS
[Passing her hand through Salome's hair.] Verily thou hast never felt hate to boil in thy breast, like love on a night in May?
SALOME
[Feigning innocence.] No, mother. How should I?
HERODIAS
Thou hast never felt an insult coursing through thee, like burning, liquid fire?
SALOME
[In the same tone.] No, mother; really I have not.
HERODIAS
Thou shalt demand no mirror, no hair-ornament, and no velvet shoes. But that the head of him they call John the Baptist shall be brought to thee on a dish.
SALOME
[Setting her teeth, and controlling herself with difficulty.] On a golden dish?
HERODIAS
What dost thou say? Understandest thou me not or--who----
SALOME
There's something else. One thing more I want to be sure of! Will he know--that ... that Baptist, from whom the request cometh?
HERODIAS
[Breaking out] Certainly, he shall know! I will stand behind thy bloody trophy as thy will.
SALOME
[Half to herself.] As the will of my will?
HERODIAS
I will grow over him, as the sword groweth forth from the sleeve of the executioner ... [Trumpets sound.] Come!
SALOME
And I will grow over him like a sweet grapevine. [Exeunt both, to right.]