DUKE. [Sheathing his sword] Rise up, my darling child, and come into my arms to calm yourself.
SWANWHITE. [Throwing herself into the arms of the DUKE] Father!—You're like a royal oak-tree which my arms cannot encircle. But beneath your leafage there is refuge from all threatening showers. [She hides her head beneath his immense beard, which reaches down to his waist] And like a bird, I will be swinging on your branches—lift me up, so I can reach the top.
The DUKE holds out his arm.
SWANWHITE. [Climbs up on his arm and perches herself on his shoulder] Now lies the earth beneath me and the air above—now I can overlook the rosery, the snowy beach, the deep-blue sea, and all the seven kingdoms stretched beyond.
DUKE. Then you can also see the youthful king to whom your troth is promised——
SWANWHITE. No—nor have I ever seen him. Is he handsome?
DUKE. Dear heart, it will depend on your own eyes how he appears to you.
SWANWHITE. [Rubbing her eyes] My eyes?—They cannot see what is not beautiful.
DUKE. [Kissing her foot] Poor little foot, that is so black! Poor little blackamoorish foot!
The STEPMOTHER gives a sign to the maids, who resume their previous positions in the closet doors; she herself steals with panther-like movements out through the middle arch of the doorway.