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