Oh! oh! little mother!...

MELISANDE (rising abruptly).

What is it, Yniold?...  What is it?...

YNIOLD.

I saw something at the window?...
                              [PELLEAS and MELISANDE run to the window.

PELLEAS.

What is there at the window?...  What have you seen?...

YNIOLD.

Oh! oh!  I saw something!...

PELLEAS.

But there is nothing.  I see nothing....

MELISANDE.

Nor I....

PELLEAS.

Where did you see something?  Which way?...

YNIOLD.

Down there, down there!...  It is no longer there....

PELLEAS.

He does not know what he is saying.  He must have seen the light of the moon on the forest.  There are often strange reflections,... or else something must have passed on the highway ... or in his sleep.  For see, see, I believe he is quite asleep....

YNIOLD (at the window).

Little father is there! little father is there!

PELLEAS (going to the window).

He is right; Golaud is coming into the courtyard....

YNIOLD.

Little father!... little father!...  I am going to meet him!...
                                              [Exit, running,—­A silence.

PELLEAS.

They are coming up the stair....

Enter GOLAUD and little YNIOLD with a lamp.

GOLAUD.

You are still waiting in the dark?

YNIOLD.

I have brought a light, little mother, a big light!... [He lifts the lamp and looks at MELISANDE.] You have been weeping, little mother?...  You have been, weeping?... [He lifts the lamp toward PELLEAS and looks in turn at him.] You too, you too, you have been weeping?...  Little father, look, little father; they have both been weeping....

GOLAUD.

Do not hold the light under their eyes so....

SCENE II.—­One of the towers of the castle.—­watchman’s round passes under a window in the tower.

MELISANDE (at the window, combing her unbound hair).

  My long locks fall foaming
    To the threshold of the tower,—­
  My locks await your coming
    All along the tower,
    And all the long, long hour,
    And all the long, long hour.

  Saint Daniel and Saint Michael,
  Saint Michael and Saint Raphael.

  I was born on a Sunday,
    A Sunday at high noon....

Enter PELLEAS by the watchman’s round.

PELLEAS.

Hola!  Hola! ho!...

MELISANDE.

Who is there?

PELLEAS.

I, I, and I!...  What art thou doing there at the window, singing like a bird that is not native here?

MELISANDE.

I am doing my hair for the night...