shall not escape me now!” He seizes her by the hair.  “Down on your knees!  On your knees before me!—­Ah! your long hair is of some use at last!” He throws her from side to side, holding her by her hair.  “Right, left!—­Left, right!—­Absalom!  Absalom!—­Forward! now back!  To the ground! to the ground!  Ha! ha! you see, I laugh already like an imbecile!” Arkel, running up, seeks to restrain him.  Golaud affects a sudden and disdainful calmness.  “You are free to act as you please,” he says.—­“It is of no consequence to me.—­I am too old to care; and, besides, I am not a spy.  I shall await my chance; and then....  Oh! then!...  I shall simply act as custom demands.”  “What is the matter?—­Is he drunk?” asks Arkel.  “No, no!” cries Melisande, weeping.  “He hates me—­and I am so wretched! so wretched!”

“If I were God,” ruminates the aged king, “how infinitely I should pity the hearts of men!”

The scene changes once more to the fountain in the park.  Yniold is discovered seeking to move a great rock behind which his golden ball has rolled.  Night is coming on.  The distant bleating of sheep is heard.  Yniold looks over the edge of the terrace and sees the flock crowding along the road.  Suddenly they cease their crying.  Yniold calls to the shepherd.  “Why do they not speak any more?” “Because,” answers the shepherd, who is concealed from sight, “it is no longer the road to the fold.”  “Where are they going to sleep to-night?” cries the child.  There is no answer, and he departs, exclaiming that he must find somebody to speak to.[5] Pelleas enters, to keep his tryst with Melisande.  “It is the last time,” he meditates.  “It must all be ended.  I have been playing like a child with what I did not understand.  I have played, dreaming about the snares of fate.  By what have I been suddenly awakened?  Who has aroused me all at once?  I shall depart, crying out for joy and woe like a blind man fleeing from his burning house.  I shall tell her I am going.  My father is out of danger; and I can no longer lie to myself.—­It is late; she is not coming.

[5] Although this scene was set to music by Debussy, and appears in both the orchestral and piano scores, it is omitted from the performances at the Opera-Comique.

—­It would be better to go away without seeing her again.—­But I must look well at her this time.—­There are some things that I no longer recall.—­It seems at times as though I had not seen her for a hundred years.—­And I have not yet looked deep into her gaze.  There remains nothing to me if I go away thus.  And all those memories!—­it is as if I were to carry away a little water in a muslin bag.—­I must see her one last time, see to the bottom of her heart.—­I must tell her all that I have never told her.”  Melisande enters.  Their greeting is simple.  Pelleas bids her come under the shade of the linden.  She wishes to remain where it is lighter; she wishes to stay where she may be seen.  Golaud, she says, is sleeping.