Golaud.
You will be afraid, all alone. One does not know what there is here… all night… all alone, it is not possible. Melisande, come, give me your hand…
Melisande.
Oh! do not touch me…
Golaud.
Do not cry out… I will not touch you. But come with me. The night is very dark and very cold. Come with me…
Melisande.
Where are you going?
Golaud.
I do not know… I am lost also.
SCENE II.
(A Room in the Castle. Arkel and Genevieve discovered).
Genevieve.
Here is what he has written to his brother, Pelléas: 'One evening, I found her all in tears on the rim of a fountain, in the forest where I had lost myself. I know not her age, nor whom she is, nor whence she comes and I do not dare question her, for she must have had a great fright, and when I ask her what had happened to her, she weeps all at once like a child and sobs so deeply that one is afraid. It is now six months that I married her and I know no more than the day of our meeting. In the meantime, my dear Pelléas, you that I love more than a brother, even though we were not born of the same father; in the meantime, prepare my return. I know that my mother will willingly forgive me. But I fear Arkel, spite of all his goodness, for I deceived, by this strange marriage, all his political projects, and I fear that the beauty of Mélisande will not excuse in his eyes, so wise, my folly. If, nevertheless, he consents to receive her as he would receive his own daughter, the third evening that follows this letter, light a lamp at the summit of the tower that looks on the sea. I shall perceive it from the bridge of our ship: if not, I shall go farther and shall never return'… What do vou say of it?
Arkel.
I say nothing of it. It may appear strange to us, for we never see but the reverse of destinies… He had always followed my advice until this; I had thought to make him happy in sending him to ask for the hand of the Princess Ursula… He could not remain alone, and since the death of his wife he was sad in being alone; and this marriage was to put an end to long wars and to some ugly hatreds… He would not have it so: Let it be as he wishes. I have never put myself at cross purposes with a destiny: and he knows his future better than me. There, perhaps, happen no useless events…
Genevieve.
He has always been so prudent, so serious and so firm. Since the death of his wife he only lived for his son, the little Yniold. He has forgotten everything.—What shall we do?
Arkel.
Who enters there?
Genevieve.
It is Pelléas. He has wept.
Arkel.
Is it you, Pelléas?—Come a little nearer, that I may see you in the light…
