lly interested, I have
something in the library--but of course I mustn't take up your time
now. If you could bear to come over another day--after all, we are
neighbours----

GERVASE. It's awfully nice of you; I should love it.

MR. KNOWLE. Hedgling is the name of the village. I mention it because
you seem to have lost your way so completely----

GERVASE. Oh, by Jove, now I know where I am. It's so different in the
moonlight. I'm lunching this way to-morrow. Might I come on
afterwards? And then I can return your petrol, thank you for your
hospitality, and expose my complete ignorance of old prints, all in
one afternoon.

MR. KNOWLE. Well, but you must come anyhow. Come to tea.

GERVASE. That will be ripping. (Getting up) Well, I suppose I ought to
be getting on. (He picks up his cloak.)

MR. KNOWLE. We might just have a look at that map on the way.

GERVASE. Oh yes, do let's.

(They go to the door together, and stand for a moment looking at the
casement windows.)

MR. KNOWLE. It really is a wonderful night. (He switches off the
lights, and the moon streams through the windows) Just look.

GERVASE (with a deep sigh). Wonderful!

[They go out together.

(The hall is empty for a moment. Then GERVASE reappears. He has
forgotten his cigarette-case. He finds it, and on his way out again
stops for a moment in the moonlight, looking through the casement
windows.)

(MELISANDE comes in by the French windows. He hears her, and at the
same moment she sees him. She gives a little wondering cry. It is He!
The knight of her dreams. They stand gazing at each other. . . . Silently
he makes obeisance to her; silently she acknowledges it. . . . Then he is
gone.)

ACT II

(It is seven o'clock on a beautiful midsummer morning. The scene is a
glade in a wood a little way above the village of Hedgling.)

GERVASE MALLORY, still in his fancy dress, but with his cloak on,
comes in. He looks round him and says, "By Jove, how jolly!" He takes
off his cloak, throws it down, stretches himself, turns round, and,
seeing the view behind him, goes to look at it. While he is looking he
hears an unmelodious whistling. He turns round with a start; the
whistling goes on; he says "Good Lord!" and tries to get to his cloak.
It is too late. ERN, a very small boy, comes through the trees into
the glade. GERVASE gives a sigh of resignation and stands there. ERN
stops in the middle of his tune and gazes at him.

ERN. Oo--er! Oo!