PRINCE. Just wait, and he will come.
SWANWHITE. I will not wait, but go to meet him.
PRINCE. Then I will stay.
SWANWHITE. [Going toward the background] And this is love!
PRINCE. [Beside himself] Where is my Swanwhite? Where, where, where? The kindest, loveliest, most beautiful?
SWANWHITE. Seek her!
PRINCE. 'Twould not avail me here below.
SWANWHITE. Elsewhere then! [She goes out.
The PRINCE is alone. He sits down at the table, covers his face with his hands, and weeps. A gust of wind passes through the room and sets draperies and curtains fluttering. A sound as of a sigh is heard from the strings of the harp. The PRINCE rises, goes to the bed, and stands there lost in contemplation of its pillow in which is a depression showing SWANWHITE'S head in profile. He picks up the pillow and kisses it. A noise is heard outside. He seats himself at the table again.
The doors of the closets fly open. The three MAIDS become visible, all with darkened faces. The STEPMOTHER enters from the rear. Her face is also dark.
STEPMOTHER. [In dulcet tones] Good morning, my dear Prince! How have you slept?