- gleams in the moonlight. She looks as fair as if she had just fallen asleep.
- [With a cry Berthold sinks on his knees beside her.
Berthold. Snow White! Oh my Princess! Dead ! I knew it must be so; but I hoped against hope!
Whick. [Gently.] She wandered to us in the Forest. She lived with us. We cared for her.
Blick. Once before she was in peril, and we saved her; but this time we came too late.
Berthold. When did it happen,—yesterday?
Blick. No, many months ago. But her red lips have never paled, nor her white skin looked less fair than snow. We could not bear to hide her away in the black earth, so we made this coffin of crystal and silver, and wrote her name upon it, "The Princess Snow White." And here we watch over her night and day. We loved her so!
