John the Baptist: A Play

_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. For only the one who willeth exerciseth power. [_As Herodias regards her suspiciously, she adds quickly._] I read that in the Scriptures, mother. I did not understand what it meant.

Herodias. Listen to me, thou sharpwits. A carpet of Indian wool will be spread here, there the Prince will sit with the foreign guests.... Let not thy foot touch the stone, raise not thy eyes.... Dance thy dance modestly, and when thou hast finished, wipe signs of shame from thy face; hearken narrowly to what the Tetrarch saith to thee. And if he should say, "Now ask of me, and----"

Salome. What then, mother?

Herodias. Ask nothing.... Then look at him for the first time a long, smiling look, and ... ask nothing. After that thou mayest demand.

Salome. [_Attentive._] What shall I demand, mother? A gold hair-ornament, or shoes of velvet? No; I know what I'll demand--a mirror.

Herodias. [_Passing her hand through Salome's hair._] Verily thou hast never felt hate to boil in thy breast, like love on a night in May?

Salome. [_Feigning innocence._] No, mother. How should I?

Herodias. Thou hast never felt an insult coursing through thee, like burning, liquid fire?

Salome. [_In the same tone._] No, mother; really I have not.

Herodias. Thou shalt demand no mirror, no hair-ornament, and no velvet shoes. But that the head of him they call John the Baptist shall be brought to thee on a dish.

Salome. [_Setting her teeth, and controlling herself with difficulty._] On a golden dish?

Herodias. What dost thou say? Understandest thou me not or--who----

Salome. There's something else. One thing more I want to be sure of! Will _he_ know--that ... that Baptist, from whom the request cometh?

Herodias. [_Breaking out_] Certainly, he shall know! I will stand behind thy bloody trophy as thy will.

Salome. [_Half to herself._] As the will of my will?

Herodias. I will grow over him, as the sword groweth forth from the sleeve of the executioner ... [_Trumpets sound._] Come!

Salome. And I will grow over him like a sweet grapevine. [_Exeunt both, to right._]