Enter PELLEAS.

PELLEAS.

It is the last evening ... the last evening.  It must all end.  I have played like a child about a thing I did not guess....  I have played a-dream about the snares of fate....  Who has awakened me all at once?  I shall flee, crying out for joy and woe like a blind man fleeing from his burning house....  I am going to tell her I shall flee....  My father is out of danger; and I have no more reason to lie to myself....  It is late; she does not come....  I should do better to go away without seeing her again....  I must look well at her this time....  There are some things that I no longer recall....  It seems at times as if I had not seen her for a hundred years....  And I have not yet looked upon her look....  There remains nought to me if I go away thus.  And all those memories ... it is as if I were to take away a little water in a muslin bag....  I must see her one last time, to the bottom of her heart....  I must tell her all that I have never told her.

Enter MELISANDE.

MELISANDE.

Pelleas!

Melisande!—­Is it thou, Melisande?

MELISANDE.

Yes.

PELLEAS.

Come hither; do not stay at the edge of the moonlight.—­Come hither.  We have so many things to tell each other....  Come hither in the shadow of the linden.

MELISANDE.

Let me stay in the light....

PELLEAS.

We might be seen from the windows of the tower.  Come hither; here, we have nothing to fear.—­Take care; we might be seen....

MELISANDE.

I wish to be seen....

PELLEAS.

Why, what doth ail thee?—­Thou wert able to come out without being seen?

MELISANDE.

Yes; your brother slept....

PELLEAS.

It is late.—­In an hour they will close the gates.  We must be careful. 
Why art thou come so late?

MELISANDE.

Your brother had a bad dream.  And then my gown was caught on the nails of the gate.  See, it is torn.  I lost all this time, and ran....

PELLEAS.

My poor Melisande!...  I should almost be afraid to touch thee....  Thou art still out of breath, like a hunted bird....  It is for me, for me, thou doest all that?...  I hear thy heart beat as if it were mine....  Come hither ... nearer, nearer me....

MELISANDE.

Why do you laugh?

PELLEAS.

I do not laugh;—­or else I laugh for joy, unwittingly....  It were a weeping matter, rather....

MELISANDE.

We have come here before....  I recollect....

PELLEAS.

Yes ... yes....  Long months ago.—­I knew not then....  Knowest thou why
I asked thee to come here to-night?

MELISANDE.

No.

PELLEAS.

It is perhaps the last time I shall see thee....  I must go away forever....