STEPMOTHER. What is it?
SIGNE. This is not Lady Magdalene.
STEPMOTHER. Who is it, then? My eyes need help.
SIGNE. 'Tis Lady Swanwhite.
STEPMOTHER. Swanwhite?—Can this be some delusion of the devil's making, or have I done what I least wished?
The PRINCE turns his head in his sleep so that his lips meet those of SWANWHITE.
STEPMOTHER. [Touched by the beautiful sight] No sight more beautiful have I beheld!—Two roses brought together by the wind; two falling stars that join in downward flight—it is too beautiful!—Youth, beauty, innocence, and love! What memories, sweet memories—when I was living in my father's home—when I was loved by him, the youth whom never I called mine—What did I say I was?
SIGNE. That you were loved by him, Your Grace.
STEPMOTHER. Then I did speak the mighty word. Be-loved—so he named me once—"beloved"—ere he started for the war—[Lost in thoughts] It was the last of him.—And so I had to take the one I couldn't bear.—My life is drawing to its close, and I must find my joy in happiness denied myself! I should rejoice—at others' happiness—Some kind of joy, at least—at other people's love—Some kind of love, at least—But there's my Magdalene? What joy for her? O, love omnipotent—eternally creative Lord—how you have rendered soft this lion heart! Where is my strength? Where is my hatred—my revenge? [She seats herself and looks long at the sleeping couple] A song runs through my mind, a song of love that he was singing long ago, that final night— [She rises as if waking out of a dream and flies into a rage; her words come with a roar] Come hither, men! Here, Steward, Castellan, and Gaoler—all of you! [She snatches the sword out of the bed and throws it along the floor toward the rear] Come hither, men!
Noise is heard outside; the men enter as before.