k my hand and
said with that strange air he has had since he fell sick: "Is it thou,
Pelleas? Why, why, I had not noticed it before, but thou hast the
grave and friendly look of those who will not live long.... You must
travel; you must travel...." It is strange; I shall obey him.... My
mother listened to him and wept for joy.--Hast thou not been aware of
it?--The whole house seems already to revive, you hear breathing, you
hear speaking, you hear walking.... Listen; I hear some one speaking
behind that door. Quick, quick! answer quickly! where shall I see
thee?

MELISANDE.

Where wouldst thou?

PELLEAS.

In the park; near "Blind Man's Spring."--Wilt thou?--Wilt thou come?

MELISANDE.

Yes.

PELLEAS.

It will be the last night;--I am going to travel, as my father said.
Thou wilt not see me more....

MELISANDE.

Do not say that, Pelleas.... I shall see thee always; I shall look
upon thee always....

PELLEAS.

Thou wilt look in vain.... I shall be so far away thou couldst no
longer see me.... I shall try to go very far away.... I am full of
joy, and you would say I had all the weight of heaven and earth on my
body to-day....

MELISANDE.

What has happened, Pelleas?--I no longer understand what you say....

PELLEAS.

Go, go; let us separate. I hear some one speaking behind that door....
It is the strangers who came to the castle this morning.... They are
going out.... Let us go; it is the strangers.... [_Exeunt severally._

SCENE II.--_An apartment in the castle._ ARKEL _and_ MELISANDE
_discovered._

ARKEL.

Now that Pelleas's father is saved, and sickness, the old handmaid of
Death, has left the castle, a little joy and a little sunlight will
at last come into the house again.... It was time!--For, since thy
coming, we have only lived here whispering about a closed room.... And
truly I have pitied thee, Melisande.... Thou camest here all joyous,
like a child seeking a gala-day, and at the moment thou enteredst in
the vestibule I saw thy face change, and probably thy soul, as the
face changes in spite of us when we enter at noon into a grotto too
gloomy and too cold.... And since,--since, on account of all that, I
have often no longer understood thee.... I observed thee, thou went
there, listless perhaps, but with the strange, astray look of one
awaiting ever a great trouble, in the sunlight, in a beautiful
garden.... I cannot explain.... But I was sad to see thee so; for thou
a