Pelléas et Mélisande | Page 4

you have gray hairs already....
GOLAUD.
Yes; some, here, by the temples....
MÉLISANDE

And in your beard, too.... Why do you look at me so?
GOLAUD.
I am looking at your eyes.--Do you never shut your eyes?
MÉLISANDE.
Oh, yes; I shut them at night....
GOLAUD.
Why do you look so astonished?
MÉLISANDE.
You are a giant?
GOLAUD.
I am a man like the rest....
MÉLISANDE.
Why have you come here?
GOLAUD.
I do not know, myself. I was hunting in the forest, I was chasing a wild
boar. I mistook the road.--You look very young. How old are you?
MÉLISANDE.
I am beginning to be cold....
GOLAUD.
Will you come with me!
MÉLISANDE.

No, no; I will stay here....
GOLAUD.
You cannot stay here all alone. You cannot stay here all night long....
What is your name?
MÉLISANDE.
Mélisande.
GOLAUD.
You cannot stay here, Mélisande. Come with me....
MÉLISANDE.
I will stay here....
GOLAUD.
You will be afraid, all alone. We do not know what there may be here ...
all night long ... all alone ... it is impossible. Mélisande, come, give me
your hand....
MÉLISANDE.
Oh, do not touch me!...
GOLAUD.
Do not scream.... I will not touch you again. But come with me. The
night will be very dark and very cold. Come with me....
MÉLISANDE.
Where are you going?...
GOLAUD.

I do not know.... I am lost too.... [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--A hall in the castle. ARKËL and GENEVIÈVE
discovered.
GENEVIÈVE.
Here is what he writes to his brother Pélléas: "I found her all in tears
one evening, beside a spring in the forest where I had lost myself. I do
not know her age, nor who she is, nor whence she comes, and I dare not
question her, for she must have had a sore fright; and when you ask her
what has happened to her, she falls at once a-weeping like a child, and
sobs so heavily you are afraid. Just as I found her by the springs, a
crown of gold had slipped from her hair and fallen to the bottom of the
water. She was clad, besides, like a princess, though her garments had
been torn by the briers. It is now six months since I married her and I
know no more about it than on the day of our meeting. Meanwhile,
dear Pélléas, thou whom I love more than a brother, although we were
not born of the same father; meanwhile make ready for my return.... I
know my mother will willingly forgive me. But I am afraid of the King,
our venerable grandsire, I am afraid of Arkël, in spite of all his
kindness, for I have undone by this strange marriage all his plans of
state, and I fear the beauty of Mélisande will not excuse my folly to
eyes so wise as his. If he consents nevertheless to receive her as he
would receive his own daughter, the third night following this letter,
light a lamp at the top of the tower that overlooks the sea. I shall
perceive it from the bridge of our ship; otherwise I shall go far away
again and come back no more...." What say you of it?
ARKËL.
Nothing. He has done what he probably must have done. I am very old,
and nevertheless I have not yet seen clearly for one moment into myself;
how would you that I judge what others have done? I am not far from
the tomb and do not succeed in judging myself.... One always mistakes
when one does not close his eyes. That may seem strange to us; but that
is all. He is past the age to marry and he weds like a child, a little girl
he finds by a spring.... That may seem strange to us, because we never
see but the reverse of destinies ... the reverse even of our own.... He has
always followed my counsels hitherto; I had thought to make him

happy in sending him to ask the hand of Princess Ursula.... He could
not remain alone; since the death of his wife he has been sad to be
alone; and that marriage would have put an end to long wars and old
hatreds.... He would not have it so. Let it be as he would have it; I have
never put myself athwart a destiny; and he knows better than I his
future. There happen perhaps no useless events....
GENEVIÈVE.
He has always been so prudent, so grave and so firm.... If it were
Pélléas, I should understand.... But he ... at his age.... Who is it he is
going to introduce here?--An unknown found along the roads.... Since
his wife's death, he has no longer lived for aught but his son, the little
Yniold, and if he were