She passes her hand over SWANWHITE as if blessing her, then she takes her plumage and leaves, closing the gate after her.
The clock on the table strikes three. The harp is silent for a moment; then it begins to play a new melody of even greater sweetness than before. SWANWHITE wakes up and looks around; listens to the harp; gets up from the bed; draws her hands through her hair; looks with pleasure at her own little feet, now spotlessly clean, and notices finally the while linen garment on the bed. She sits down at the table in the place she occupied during the evening. She acts as if she were looking at somebody sitting opposite her at the table, where the PRINCE was seated the night before. She looks straight into his eyes, smiles a smile of recognition, and holds out one of her hands. Her lips move at times as if she were speaking, and then again she seems to be listening to an answer.
She points meaningly to the white and red feathers on the helmet, and leans forward as if whispering. Then she puts her head back and breathes deeply as if to fill her nostrils with some fragrance. Having caught something in the air with one of her hands, she kisses the hand and then pretends to throw something back across the table. She picks up the quill and caresses it as if it were a bird; then she writes and pushes the parchment across the table. Her glances seem to follow "his" pen while the reply is being written, and at last she takes back the parchment, reads it, and hides it in her bosom.
She strokes her black dress as if commenting on the sad change in her appearance. Whereupon she smiles at an inaudible answer, and finally bursts into hearty laughter.
By gestures she indicates that her hair has been combed. Then she rises, goes a little distance away from the table, and turns around with a bashful expression to hold out one of her feet. In that attitude she stays for a moment while waiting for an answer. On hearing it she becomes embarrassed and hides her foot quickly under her dress.
She goes to the chest and takes out the chess-board and the chess-men, which she places on the lions skin with a gesture of invitation. Then she lies down beside the board, arranges the men, and begins to play with an invisible partner.
The harp is silent for a moment before it starts a new melody.
The game of chess ends and SWANWHITE seems to be talking with her invisible partner. Suddenly she moves away as if he were coming too close to her. With a deprecating gesture she leaps lightly to her feet. Then she gazes long and reproachfully at him. At last she snatches up the white garment and hides herself behind the bed.
At that moment the PRINCE appears outside the gates, which he vainly tries to open. Then he raises his eyes toward the sky with an expression of sorrow and despair.
SWANWHITE. [Coming forward] Who comes with the morning wind?
PRINCE. Your heart's beloved, your prince, your all!
SWANWHITE. Whence do you come, my heart's beloved?
PRINCE. From dreamland; from the rosy hills that hide the dawn; from whispering firs and singing lindens.
SWANWHITE. What did you do in dreamland, beyond the hills of dawn, my heart's beloved?
PRINCE. I sported and laughed; I wrote her name; I sat upon the lion's skin and played at chess.
SWANWHITE. You sported and you played—with whom?
PRINCE. With Swanwhite.
SWANWHITE. It is he!—Be welcome to my castle, my table, and my arms!