JANE (upset).  Well, I mean—­Well, of course, I suppose it was different in those days.

MELISANDE.  How else could he know that I loved him?  How else could he wear my gage in his helm when he rode to battle?

JANE.  Well, of course, there is that.

MELISANDE.  And then when he has slain his enemies in battle, he comes back to me.  I knot my sheets together so as to form a rope—­for I have been immured in my room—­and I let myself down to him.  He places me on the saddle in front of him, and we ride forth together into the world—­together for always!

JANE (a little uncomfortably).  You do get married, I suppose, darling, or do you—­er—­

MELISANDE.  We stop at a little hermitage on the way, and a good priest marries us.

JANE (relieved.) Ah, yes.

MELISANDE.  And sometimes he is not in armour.  He is a prince from Fairyland.  My father is king of a neighbouring country, a country which is sorely troubled by a dragon.

JANE.  By a what, dear?

MELISANDE.  A dragon.

JANE.  Oh, yes, of course.

MELISANDE.  The king, my father, offers my hand and half his kingdom to anybody who will slay the monster.  A prince who happens to be passing through the country essays the adventure.  Alas, the dragon devours him.

JANE.  Oh, Melisande, that isn’t the one?

MELISANDE.  My eyes have barely rested upon him.  He has aroused no emotion in my heart.

JANE.  Oh, I’m so glad.

MELISANDE.  Another prince steps forward.  Impetuously he rushes upon the fiery monster.  Alas, he likewise is consumed.

JANE (sympathetically.) Poor fellow

MELISANDE.  And then one evening a beautiful and modest youth in blue and gold appears at my father’s court, and begs that he too be allowed to try his fortune with the dragon.  Passing through the great hall on my way to my bed-chamber, I see him suddenly.  Our eyes meet. . . .  Oh, Jane!

JANE.  Darling! . . .  You ought to have lived in those days, Melisande. 
They would have suited you so well.

MELISANDE.  Will they never come back again?

JANE.  Well, I don’t quite see how they can.  People don’t dress in blue and gold nowadays.  I mean men.

MELISANDE.  No. (She sighs) Well, I suppose I shall never marry.

JANE.  Of course, I’m not romantic like you, darling, and I don’t have time to read all the wonderful books you read, and though I quite agree with everything you say, and of course it must have been thrilling to have lived in those wonderful old days, still here we are, and (with a wave of the hand)—­and what I mean is—­here we are.

MELISANDE.  You are content to put romance out of your life, and to make the ordinary commonplace marriage?

JANE.  What I mean is, that it wouldn’t be commonplace if it was the right man.  Some nice, clean-looking Englishman—­I don’t say beautiful—­pleasant, and good at games, dependable, not very clever perhaps, but making enough money——­