SCENE II.—One of the towers of the castle.—watchman's round passes under a window in the tower.
MÉLISANDE (at the window, combing her unbound hair).
My long locks fall foaming
To the threshold of the tower,—
My locks await your coming
All along the tower,
And all the long, long hour,
And all the long, long hour.
Saint Daniel and Saint Michaël,
Saint Michaël and Saint Raphaël.
I was born on a Sunday,
A Sunday at high noon….
Enter PÉLLÉAS by the watchman's round.
PÉLLÉAS.
Holà! Holà! ho!…
MÉLISANDE.
Who is there?
PÉLLÉAS.
I, I, and I!… What art thou doing there at the window, singing like a bird that is not native here?
MÉLISANDE.
I am doing my hair for the night…
PÉLLÉAS.
Is it that I see upon the wall?… I thought you had some light….
MÉLISANDE.
I have opened the window; it is too hot in the tower…. It is beautiful to-night….
PÉLLÉAS.
There are innumerable stars; I have never seen so many as to-night;… but the moon is still upon the sea…. Do not stay in the shadow, Mélisande; lean forward a little till I see your unbound hair….
MÉLISANDE.
I am frightful so…. [She learn out at the window.
PÉLLÉAS.
Oh! oh! Mélisande!… oh, thou art beautiful!… thou art beautiful so!… Lean out! lean out!… Let me come nearer thee….
MÉLISANDE
I cannot come nearer thee…. I am leaning out as far as I can….
PÉLLÉAS.
I cannot come up higher;… give me at least thy hand to-night … before I go away…. I leave to-morrow….
MÉLISANDE.
No, no, no!…
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes, yes, yes; I leave, I shall leave to-morrow…. Give me thy hand, thy hand, thy little hand upon my lips….
MÉLISANDE.
I give thee not my hand if thou wilt leave….
PÉLLÉAS.
Give, give, give!…
MÉLISANDE.
Thou wilt not leave?…
PÉLLÉAS.
I will wait; I will wait….
MÉLISANDE.
I see a rose in the shadows….
PÉLLÉAS.
Where?… I see only the boughs of the willow hanging over the wall….
MÉLISANDE.
Further down, further down, in the garden; further down, in the sombre green….
PÉLLÉAS.
It is not a rose…. I will go see by and by, but give me thy hand first; first thy hand….
MÉLISANDE.
There, there;… I cannot lean out further….
PÉLLÉAS.
I cannot reach thy hand with my lips….
MÉLISANDE.
I cannot lean out further…. I am on the point of falling….—Oh! oh! my hair is falling down the tower!…
[Her tresses fall suddenly over her head, as she is leaning out so, and stream over PÉLLÉAS]
PÉLLÉAS.
Oh! oh! what is it?… Thy hair, thy hair is falling down to me!… All thy locks, Mélisande, all thy locks have fallen down the tower!… I hold them in my hands; I hold them in my mouth…. I hold them in my arms; I put them about my neck…. I will not open my hands again to-night….
MÉLISANDE.
Let me go! let me go!… Thou wilt make me fall!…
PÉLLÉAS.
No, no, no;… I have never seen such hair as thine, Mélisande!… See, see, see; it comes from so high and yet it floods me to the heart!… And yet it floods me to the knees!… And it is sweet, sweet as if it fell from heaven!… I see the sky no longer through thy locks. Thou seest, thou seest?… I can no longer hold them with both hands; there are some on the boughs of the willow…. They are alive like birds in my hands,… and they love me, they love me more than thou!…
MÉLISANDE.
Let me go; let me go!… Some one might come….
PÉLLÉAS.
No, no, no; I shall not set thee free to-night…. Thou art my prisoner to-night; all night, all night!…
MÉLISANDE.
Pélléas! Pélléas!…
PÉLLÉAS.
I tie them, I tie them to the willow boughs…. Thou shalt not go away now;… thou shalt not go away now…. Look, look, I am kissing thy hair…. I suffer no more in the midst of thy hair…. Hearest thou my kisses along thy hair?… They mount along thy hair…. Each hair must bring thee some…. Thou seest, thou seest, I can open my hands…. My hands are free, and thou canst not leave me now….
MÉLISANDE.
Oh! oh! thou hurtest me…. [Doves come out of the tower and fly about them in the night.]—What is that, Pélléas?—What is it flying about me?
PÉLLÉAS.
It is the doves coming oat of the tower…. I have frightened them; they are flying away….
MÉLISANDE.
It is my doves, Pélléas.—Let us go away, let me go; they will not come back again….
PÉLLÉAS.
Why will they not come back again?
MÉLISANDE
They will be lost in the dark…. Let me go; let me lift my head…. I hear a noise of footsteps…. Let me go!—It is Golaud!… I believe it is Golaud!… He has heard us….
PÉLLÉAS.
Wait! Wait!… Thy hair is about the boughs…. It is caught there in the darkness…. Wait, wait!… It is dark….
Enter GOLAUD, by the watchman's round.
GOLAUD.
What do you here?
PÉLLÉAS.
What do I here?… I….
GOLAUD.
You are children…. Mélisande, do not lean out so at the window; you will fall…. Do you not know it is late?—It is nearly midnight.—Do not play so in the darkness.—You are children…. [Laughing nervously.] What children!… What children!… [Exit, with PÉLLÉAS.
SCENE III.—_The-vaults of the castle.
Enter_ GOLAUD and PÉLLÉAS.
GOLAUD.
Take care; this way, this way.—You have never penetrated into these vaults?
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes; once, of old; but it was long ago….
GOLAUD.
They are prodigious great; it is a succession of enormous crypts that end, God knows where. The whole castle is builded on these crypts. Do you smell the deathly odor that reigns here?—That is what I wished, to show you. In my opinion, it comes from the little underground lake I am going to have you see. Take care; walk before me, in the light of my lantern. I will warn you when we are there, [They continue to walk in silence.] Hey! hey! Pélléas! stop! stop!—[He seizes him by the arm.] For God's sake!… Do you not see?—One step more, and you had been in the gulf!…
PÉLLÉAS
But I did not see it!… The lantern no longer lighted me….
GOLAUD.
I made a misstep…. but if I had not held you by the arm…. Well, this is the stagnant water that I spoke of to you…. Do you perceive the smell of death that rises?—Let us go to the end of this overhanging rock, and do you lean over a little. It will strike you in the face.
PÉLLÉAS.
I smell it already;… you would say a smell of the tomb.
GOLAUD.
Further, further…. It is this that on certain days has poisoned the castle. The King will not believe it comes from here.—The crypt should be walled up in which this standing water is found. It is time, besides, to examine these vaults a little. Have you noticed those lizards on the walls and pillars of the vaults?—There is a labor hidden here you would not suspect; and the whole castle will be swallowed up one of these nights, if it is not looked out for. But what will you have? nobody likes to come down this far…. There are strange lizards in many of the walls…. Oh! here … do you perceive the smell of death that rises?
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes; there is a smell of death rising about us….
GOLAUD.
Lean over; have no fear…. I will hold you … give me … no, no, not your hand … it might slip … your arm, your arm!… Do you see the gulf? [Moved.]—Pélléas? Pélléas?…
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes; I think I see the bottom of the gulf…. Is it the light that trembles so?… You … [He straightens up, turns, and looks at GOLAUD.]
GOLAUD (with a trembling voice).
Yes; it is the lantern…. See, I shook it to lighten the walls….
PÉLLÉAS.
I stifle here;… let us go out….
GOLAUD.
Yes; let us go out….
[Exeunt in silence.
SCENE IV.—A terrace at the exit of the vaults. Enter GOLAUD and PÉLLÉAS.
PÉLLÉAS.
Ah! I breathe at last!… I thought, one moment, I was going to be ill in those enormous crypts; I was on the point of falling…. There is a damp air there, heavy as a leaden dew, and darkness thick as a poisoned paste…. And now, all the air of all the sea!… There is a fresh wind, see; fresh as a leaf that has just opened, over the little green waves…. Hold! the flowers have just been watered at the foot of the terrace, and the smell of the verdure and the wet roses comes up to us…. It must be nearly noon; they are already in the shadow of the tower…. It is noon; I hear the bells ringing, and the children are going down to the beach to bathe…. I did not know that we had stayed so long in the caverns….
GOLAUD.
We went down towards eleven o'clock….
PÉLLÉAS.
Earlier; it must have been earlier; I heard it strike half-past ten.
GOLAUD.
Half-past ten or a quarter to eleven….
PÉLLÉAS.
They have opened all the windows of the castle. It will be unusually hot this afternoon…. Look, there is mother with Mélisande at a window of the tower….
GOLAUD.
Yes; they have taken refuge on the shady side.—Speaking of Mélisande, I heard what passed and what was said last night. I am quite aware all that is but child's play; but it need not be repeated. Mélisande is very young and very impressionable; and she must be treated the more circumspectly that she is perhaps with child at this moment…. She is very delicate, hardly woman; and the least emotion might bring on a mishap. It is not the first time I have noticed there might be something between you…. You are older than she; it will suffice to have told you…. Avoid her as much as possible; without affectation moreover; without affectation….—What is it I see yonder on the highway toward the forest?…
PÉLLÉAS.
Some herds they are leading to the city….
GOLAUD.
They cry like lost children; you would say they smelt the butcher already.—It will be time for dinner.—What a fine day! What a capital day for the harvest!… [Exeunt.
SCENE V.—Before the castle.
Enter GOLAUD and little YNIOLD.
GOLAUD.
Come, we are going to sit down here, Yniold; sit on my knee; we shall see from here what passes in the forest. I do not see you any more at all now. You abandon me too; you are always at little mother's…. Why, we are sitting just under little mother's windows.—Perhaps she is saying her evening prayer at this moment…. But tell me, Yniold, she is often with your uncle Pélléas, isn't she?
YNIOLD.
Yes, yes; always, little father; when you are not there, little father….
GOLAUD.
Ah!—look; some one is going by with a lantern in the garden.—But I have been told they did not like each other…. It seems they often quarrel;… no? Is it true?
YNIOLD.
Yes, yes; it is true.
GOLAUD.
Yes?—Ah! ah!—But what do they quarrel about?
YNIOLD.
About the door.
GOLAUD.
What? about the door?—What are you talking about?—No, come, explain yourself; why do they quarrel about the door?
YNIOLD.
Because it won't stay open.
GOLAUD.
Who wants it to stay open?—Come, why do they quarrel?
YNIOLD.
I don't know, little father; about the light.
GOLAUD.
I am not talking to you about the light; we will talk of that by and by. I am talking to you about the door. Answer what I ask you; you must learn to talk; it is time…. Do not put your hand in your mouth so;… come….
YNIOLD.
Little father! little father!… I won't do it any more…. [He cries.]
GOLAUD.
Come; what are you crying for now? What has happened?
YNIOLD.
Oh! oh! little father, you hurt me….
GOLAUD.
I hurt you?—Where did I hurt you? I did not mean to….
YNIOLD.
Here, here; on my little arm….
GOLAUD.
I did not mean to; come, don't cry any more, and I will give you something to-morrow.
YNIOLD.
What, little father?
GOLAUD.
A quiver and some arrows; but tell me what you know about the door.
YNIOLD.
Big arrows?
GOLAUD.
Yes, yes; very big arrows.—But why don't they want the door to be open?—Come, answer me sometime!—no, no; do not open your mouth to cry. I am not angry. We are going to have a quiet talk, like Pélléas and little mother when they are together. What do they talk about when they are together?
YNIOLD.
Pélléas and little mother?
GOLAUD.
Yes; what do they talk about?
YNIOLD.
About me; always about me.
GOLAUD.
And what do they say about you?
YNIOLD.
They say I am going to be very big.
GOLAUD.
Oh, plague of my life!… I am here like a blind man searching for his treasure at the bottom of the ocean!… I am here like a new-born child lost in the forest, and you … Come, come, Yniold, I was wandering; we are going to talk seriously. Do Pélléas and little mother never speak of me when I am not there?…
YNIOLD.
Yes, yes, little father; they are always speaking of you.
GOLAUD.
Ah!… And what do they say of me?
YNIOLD.
They say I shall grow as big as you are.
GOLAUD.
You are always by them?
YNIOLD.
Yes, yes, always, always, little father.
GOLAUD.
They never tell you to go play somewhere else?
YNIOLD.
No, little father; they are afraid when I am not there.
GOLAUD.
They are afraid?… What makes you think they are afraid?
YNIOLD.
Little mother always says, "Don't go away; don't go away!"… They are unhappy, but they laugh….
GOLAUD.
But that does not prove they are afraid.
YNIOLD.
Yes, yes, little father; she is afraid….
GOLAUD.
Why do you say she is afraid?
YNIOLD.
They always weep in the dark.
GOLAUD.
Ah! ah!…
YNIOLD.
That makes one weep too.
GOLAUD.
Yes, yes!…
YNIOLD.
She is pale, little father.
GOLAUD.
Ah! ah!… patience, my God, patience!…
YNIOLD.
What, little father?
GOLAUD.
Nothing, nothing, my child.—I saw a wolf go by in the forest.—Then they get on well together?—I am glad to learn they are on good terms.—They kiss each other sometimes—No?…
YNIOLD.
Kiss each other, little father?—No, no,—ah! yes, little father, yes; yes; once … once when it rained….
GOLAUD.
They kissed?—But how, how did they kiss?
YNIOLD.
So, little father, so!… [He gives him a kiss on the mouth, laughing.] Ah! ah! your beard, little father!… It pricks! it pricks! it pricks! It is getting all gray, little father, and your hair, too; all gray, all gray, all gray…. [The window under which they are sitting is lighted up at this moment, and the light falls upon them.] Ah! ah! little mother has lit her lamp. It is light, little father; it is light….
GOLAUD.
Yes; it is beginning to be light….
YNIOLD.
Let us go there too, little father; let us go there too….
GOLAUD.
Where do you want to go?
YNIOLD.
Where it is light, little father.
GOLAUD.
No, no, my child; let us stay in the dark a little longer…. One cannot tell, one cannot tell yet…. Do you see those poor people down there trying to kindle a little fire in the forest?—It has rained. And over there, do you see the old gardener trying to lift that tree the wind has blown down across the road?—He cannot; the tree is too big; the tree is too heavy, and it will lie where it fell. All that cannot be helped…. I think Pélléas is mad….
YNIOLD.
No, little father, he is not mad; he is very good.
GOLAUD.
Do you want to see little mother?
YNIOLD.
Yes, yes; I want to see her!
GOLAUD.
Don't make any noise; I am going to hoist you up to the window. It is too high for me, for all I am so big…. [He lifts the child.] Do not make the least noise; little mother would be terribly afraid…. Do you see her?—Is she in the room?
YNIOLD.
Yes…. Oh, how light it is!
GOLAUD.
She is alone?
YNIOLD.
Yes;… no, no; Uncle Pélléas Is there, too.
GOLAUD.
He—…!
YNIOLD.
Ah! ah! little father! you have hurt me!…
GOLAUD.
It is nothing; be still; I will not do it any more; look, look,
Yniold!… I stumbled; speak lower. What are they doing?—
YNIOLD.
They are not doing anything, little father; they are waiting for something.
GOLAUD.
Are they near each other?
YNIOLD.
No, little father.
GOLAUD.
And … and the bed? are they near the bed?
YNIOLD.
The bed, little father?—I can't see the bed.
GOLAUD.
Lower, lower; they will hear you. Are they speaking?
YNIOLD.
No, little father; they do not speak.
GOLAUD.
But what are they doing?—They must be doing something….
YNIOLD.
They are looking at the light.
GOLAUD.
Both?
YNIOLD.
Yes, little father.
GOLAUD.
They do not say anything?
YNIOLD.
No, little father; they do not close their eyes.
GOLAUD.
They do not come near each other?
YNIOLD.
No, little father; they do not stir.
GOLAUD.
They are sitting down?
YNIOLD.
No, little father; they are standing upright against the wall.
GOLAUD.
They make no gestures?—They do not look at each other?—They make no signs?…
YNIOLD.
No, little father.—Oh! oh! little father; they never close their eyes…. I am terribly afraid….
GOLAUD.
Be still. They do not stir yet?
YNIOLD.
No, little father.—I am afraid, little father; let me come down!…
GOLAUD.
Why, what are you afraid of?—Look! look!…
YNIOLD.
I dare not look any more, little father!… Let me come down!…
GOLAUD.
Look! look!…
YNIOLD.
Oh! oh! I am going to cry, little father!—Let me come down! let me come down!,..
GOLAUD.
Come; we will go see what has happened. [Exeunt.
ACT FOURTH
SCENE I.—A corridor in the castle.
Enter PÉLLÉAS and MÉLISANDE, meeting.
PÉLLÉAS.
Where goest thou? I must speak to thee to-night. Shall I see thee?
MÉLISANDE.
Yes.
PÉLLÉAS.
I have just left my father's room. He is getting better. The physician has told us he is saved…. And yet this morning I had a presentiment this day would end ill. I have had a rumor of misfortune in my ears for some time…. Then, all at once there was a great change; to-day it is no longer anything but a question of time. All the windows in his room have been thrown open. He speaks; he seems happy. He does not speak yet like an ordinary man, but already his ideas no longer all come from the other world…. He recognized me. He took my hand and said with that strange air he has had since he fell sick: "Is it thou, Pélléas? 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?
MÉLISANDE.
Where wouldst thou?
PÉLLÉAS.
In the park; near "Blind Man's Spring."—Wilt thou?—Wilt thou come?
MÉLISANDE.
Yes.
PÉLLÉAS.
It will be the last night;—I am going to travel, as my father said.
Thou wilt not see me more….
MÉLISANDE.
Do not say that, Pélléas…. I shall see thee always; I shall look upon thee always….
PÉLLÉAS.
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….
MÉLISANDE.
What has happened, Pélléas?—I no longer understand what you say….
PÉLLÉAS.
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. ARKËL and MÉLISANDE discovered.
ARKËL.
Now that Pélléas'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, Mélisande…. 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 art too young and too beautiful to live already day and night under the breath of death…. But now all that will change. At my age,—and there perhaps is the surest fruit of my life,—at my age I have gained I know not what faith in the fidelity of events, and I have always seen that every young and beautiful being creates about itself young, beautiful, and happy events…. And it is thou who wilt now open the door for the new era I have glimpses of…. Come here; why dost thou stay there without answering and without lifting thine eyes?—I have kissed thee but once only hitherto,—the day of thy coming; and yet old men need sometimes to touch with their lips a woman's forehead or a child's cheek, to believe still in the freshness of life and avert awhile the menaces…. Art thou afraid of my old lips? How I have pitied thee these months!…
MÉLISANDE.
Grandfather, I have not been unhappy….
ARKËL.
Perhaps you were of those who are unhappy without knowing it,… and they are the most unhappy…. Let me look at thee, so, quite near, a moment;… we have such need of beauty beside Death….
Enter GOLAUD.
GOLAUD.
Pélléas leaves to-night.
ARKËL.
Thou hast blood on thy forehead.—What hast thou done?
GOLAUD.
Nothing, nothing…. I have passed through a hedge of thorns.
MÉLISANDE.
Bend down your head a little, my lord…. I will wipe your forehead….
GOLAUD (repulsing her).
I will not that you touch me, do you understand? Go, go!—I am not speaking to you.—Where is my sword?—I came to seek my sword….
MÉLISANDE.
Here; on the praying-stool.
GOLAUD.
Bring it. [To ARKËL.]—They have just found another peasant dead of hunger, along by the sea. You would say they all meant to die under our eyes.—[To MÉLISANDE.] Well, my sword?—Why do you tremble so?—I am not going to kill you. I would simply examine the blade. I do not employ the sword for these uses. Why do you examine me like a beggar?—I do not come to ask alms of you. You hope to see something in my eyes without my seeing anything in yours?—Do you think I may know something?—[To ARKËL.]—Do you see those great eyes?—It is as if they were proud of their richness….
ARKËL.
I see there only a great innocence….
GOLAUD.
A great innocence!… They are greater than innocence!… They are purer than the eyes of a lamb…. They would give God lessons in innocence! A great innocence! Listen: I am so near them I feel the freshness of their lashes when they wink; and yet I am less far away from the great secrets of the other world than from the smallest secret of those eyes!… A great innocence!… More than innocence! You would say the angels of heaven celebrated there an eternal baptism!… I know those eyes! I have seen them at their work! Close them! close them! or I shall close them for a long while!…—Do not put your right hand to your throat so; I am saying a very simple thing…. I have no under-thought…. If I had an under-thought, why should I not say it? Ah! ah!—do not attempt to flee!—Here!—Give me that hand!—Ah! your hands are too hot…. Go away! Your flesh disgusts me!… Here!—There is no more question of fleeing now!—[He seizes her by the hair.]—You shall follow me on your knees!—On your knees!—On your knees before me!—Ah! ah! your long hair serves some purpose at last!… Right,… left!—Left,… right!—Absalom! Absalom.—Forward! back! To the ground! to the ground!… You see, you see; I laugh already like an old man….
ARKËL (running up).
Golaud!…
GOLAUD (affecting a sudden calm).
You will do as you may please, look you.—I attach no importance to that.—I am too old; and, besides, I am not a spy. I shall await chance; and then … Oh! then!… simply because it is the custom; simply because it is the custom…. [Exit.
ARKËL.
What ails him?—He is drunk?
MÉLISANDE (in tears).
No, no; he does not love me any more…. I am not happy!… I am not happy!…
ARKËL.
If I were God, I would have pity on men's hearts….
SCENE III.—A terrace of the castle. Little YNIOLD discovered, trying to lift a bowlder.
LITTLE YNIOLD.
Oh, this stone is heavy!… It is heavier than I am…. It is heavier than everybody…. It is heavier than everything that ever happened…. I can see my golden ball between the rock and this naughty stone, and I cannot reach it…. My little arm is not long enough,… and this stone won't be lifted…. I can't lift it,… and nobody could lift it…. It is heavier than the whole house;… you would think it had roots in the earth…. [The Bleatings of a flock heard far away.]—Oh! oh! I hear the sheep crying…. [He goes to look, at the edge of the terrace.] Why! there is no more sun…. They are coming … the little sheep … they are coming…. There is a lot of them!… There is a lot of them!… They are afraid of the dark…. They crowd together! they crowd together!… They can hardly walk any more…. They are crying! they are crying! and they go quick!… They go quick!… They are already at the great crossroads. Ah! ah! They don't know where they ought to go any more…. They don't cry any more…. They wait…. Some of them want to go to the right…. They all want to go to the right…. They cannot!… The shepherd is throwing earth at them…. Ah! ah! They are going to pass by here…. They obey! They obey! They are going to pass under the terrace…. They are going to pass under the rocks…. I am going to see them near by…. Oh! oh! what a lot of them!… What a lot of them!… The whole road is full of them…. They all keep still now … Shepherd! shepherd! why don't they speak any more?
THE SHEPHERD (who is out of sight).
Because it is no longer the road to the stable….
YNIOLD.
Where are they going?—Shepherd! shepherd!—where are they going?—He doesn't hear me any more. They are too far away already…. They go quick…. They are not making a noise any more…. It is no longer the road to the stable…. Where are they going to sleep to-night?—Oh! oh!—It is too dark…. I am going to tell something to somebody…. [Exit.
SCENE IV.—A fountain in the park.
Enter PÉLLÉAS.
PÉLLÉAS.
It is the last evening … the last evening. It must all end. I have played like a child about a thing I did not guess…. I have played a-dream about the snares of fate…. Who has awakened me all at once? I shall flee, crying out for joy and woe like a blind man fleeing from his burning house…. I am going to tell her I shall flee…. My father is out of danger; and I have no more reason to lie to myself…. It is late; she does not come…. I should do better to go away without seeing her again…. I must look well at her this time…. There are some things that I no longer recall…. It seems at times as if I had not seen her for a hundred years…. And I have not yet looked upon her look…. There remains nought to me if I go away thus. And all those memories … it is as if I were to take away a little water in a muslin bag…. I must see her one last time, to the bottom of her heart…. I must tell her all that I have never told her.
Enter MÉLISANDE.
MÉLISANDE.
Pélléas!
Mélisande!—Is it thou, Mélisande?
MÉLISANDE.
Yes.
PÉLLÉAS.
Come hither; do not stay at the edge of the moonlight.—Come hither. We have so many things to tell each other…. Come hither in the shadow of the linden.
MÉLISANDE.
Let me stay in the light….
PÉLLÉAS.
We might be seen from the windows of the tower. Come hither; here, we have nothing to fear.—Take care; we might be seen….
MÉLISANDE.
I wish to be seen….
PÉLLÉAS.
Why, what doth ail thee?—Thou wert able to come out without being seen?
MÉLISANDE.
Yes; your brother slept….
PÉLLÉAS.
It is late.—In an hour they will close the gates. We must be careful.
Why art thou come so late?
MÉLISANDE.
Your brother had a bad dream. And then my gown was caught on the nails of the gate. See, it is torn. I lost all this time, and ran….
PÉLLÉAS.
My poor Mélisande!… I should almost be afraid to touch thee…. Thou art still out of breath, like a hunted bird…. It is for me, for me, thou doest all that?… I hear thy heart beat as if it were mine…. Come hither … nearer, nearer me….
MÉLISANDE.
Why do you laugh?
PÉLLÉAS.
I do not laugh;—or else I laugh for joy, unwittingly…. It were a weeping matter, rather….
MÉLISANDE.
We have come here before…. I recollect….
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes … yes…. Long months ago.—I knew not then…. Knowest thou why
I asked thee to come here to-night?
MÉLISANDE.
No.
PÉLLÉAS.
It is perhaps the last time I shall see thee…. I must go away forever….
MÉLISANDE.
Why sayest thou always thou wilt go away?…
PÉLLÉAS.
I must tell thee what thou knowest already?—Thou knowest not what I am going to tell thee?
MÉLISANDE.
Why, no; why, no; I know nothing—…
PÉLLÉAS.
Thou knowest not why I must go afar…. Thou knowest not it is because … [He kisses her abruptly.] I love thee….
MÉLISANDE (in a low voice).
I love thee too….
PÉLLÉAS.
Oh! oh! What saidst thou, Mélisande?… I hardly heard it!… Thou sayest that in a voice coming from the end of the world!… I hardly heard thee…. Thou lovest me?—Thou lovest me too?… Since when lovest thou me?…
MÉLISANDE.
Since always…. Since I saw thee….
PÉLLÉAS.
Oh, how thou sayest that!… Thy voice seems to have blown across the sea in spring!… I have never heard it until now;… one would say it had rained on my heart!… Thou sayest that so frankly!… Like an angel questioned!… I cannot believe it, Mélisande!… Why shouldst thou love me?—Nay, why dost thou love me?—Is what thou sayest true?—Thou dost not mock me?—Thou dost not lie a little, to make me smile?…
MÉLISANDE.
No; I never lie; I lie but to thy brother….
PÉLLÉAS.
Oh, how thou sayest that!… Thy voice! thy voice!… It is cooler and more frank than the water is!… It is like pure water on my lips!… It is like pure water on my hands…. Give me, give me thy hands!… Oh, how small thy hands are!… I did not know thou wert so beautiful!… I have never seen anything so beautiful before thee…. I was fall of unrest; I sought throughout the house…. I sought throughout the country…. And I found not beauty…. And now I have found thee!… I have found thee!.,. I do not think there could be on the earth a fairer woman!… Where art thou?—I no longer hear thee breathe….
MÉLISANDE.
Because I look on thee….
PÉLLÉAS.
Why dost thou look so gravely on me?—We are already in the shadow.—It is too dark under this tree. Come into the light. We cannot see how happy we are. Come, come; so little time remains to us….
MÉLISANDE.
No, no; let us stay here…. I am nearer thee in the dark….
PÉLLÉAS.
Where are thine eyes?—Thou art not going to fly me?—Thou dost not think of me just now.
MÉLISANDE.
Oh, yes; oh, yes; I only think of thee….
PÉLLÉAS.
Thou wert looking elsewhere….
MÉLISANDE.
I saw thee elsewhere….
PÉLLÉAS.
Thy soul is far away…. What ails thee, then?—Meseems thou art not happy….
MÉLISANDE.
Yes, yes; I am happy, but I am sad….
PÉLLÉAS.
One is sad often when one loves….
MÉLISANDE.
I weep always when I think of thee….
PÉLLÉAS.
I too…. I too, Mélisande…. I am quite near thee; I weep for joy, and yet …[He kisses her again.]—Thou art strange when I kiss thee so…. Thou art so beautiful that one would think thou wert about to die….
MÉLISANDE.
Thou too….
PÉLLÉAS.
There, there…. We do not what we will…. I did not love thee the first time I saw thee….
MÉLISANDE.
Nor I … nor I…. I was afraid….
PÉLLÉAS.
I could not admit thine eyes…. I would have gone away at once … and then….
MÉLISANDE.
And I,—I would not have come…. I do not yet know why,—I was afraid to come….
PÉLLÉAS.
There are so many things one never knows. We are ever waiting; and then…. What is that noise?—They are closing the gates!…
MÉLISANDE.
Yes, they have closed the gates….
PÉLLÉAS.
We cannot go back now?—Hearest thou the bolts?—Listen! listen!… the great chains!… the great chains!… It is too late; it is too late!…
MÉLISANDE.
All the better! all the better! all the better!…
PÉLLÉAS.
Thou—…? Behold, behold!… It is no longer we who will it so!…
All's lost, all's saved! all is saved to-night!—Come, come…. My
heart beats like a madman,—up to my very throat…. [They embrace.]
Listen! listen! my heart is almost strangling me…. Come! come!…
Ah, how beautiful it is in the shadows!…
MÉLISANDE.
There is some one behind us!…
PÉLLÉAS.
I see no one….
MÉLISANDE.
I heard a noise….
PÉLLÉAS.
I hear only thy heart in the dark….
MÉLISANDE.
I heard the crackling of dead leaves….
PÉLLÉAS.
Because the wind is silent all at once…. It fell as we were kissing….
MÉLISANDE.
How long our shadows are to-night!…
PÉLLÉAS.
They embrace to the very end of the garden. Oh, how they kiss far away from us!… Look! look!…
MÉLISANDE.(a stifled voice).
A-a-h!—He is behind a tree!
PÉLLÉAS.
Who?
MÉLISANDE.
Golaud!
PÉLLÉAS.
Golaud!—where?—I see nothing….
MÉLISANDE.
There … at the end of our shadows.
PÉLLÉAS.
Yes, yes; I saw him…. Let us not turn abruptly….
MÉLISANDE.
He has his sword….
PÉLLÉAS.
I have not mine….
MÉLISANDE.
He saw us kiss….
PÉLLÉAS.
He does not know we have seen him…. Do not stir; do not turn your head…. He would rush headlong on us…. He will remain there while he thinks we do not know. He watches us…. He is still motionless…. Go, go at once this way…. I will wait for him…. I will stop him….
MÉLISANDE.
No, no, no!…
PÉLLÉAS.
Go! go! he has seen all!… He will kill us!…
MÉLISANDE.
All the better! all the better! all the better!…
PÉLLÉAS.
He comes! he comes!… Thy mouth!… Thy mouth!…
MÉLISANDE.
Yes!… yes! yes!… [They kiss desperately.
PÉLLÉAS
Oh! oh! All the stars are falling!…
MÉLISANDE.
Upon me too! upon me too!…
PÉLLÉAS.
Again! Again!… Give! give!…
MÉLISANDE.
All! all! all!…
[Golaud rushes upon them, sword in hand, and strikes Pélléas, who falls at the brink of the fountain. Mélisande flees terrified.]
MÉLISANDE. (fleeing).
Oh! oh! I have no courage I … I have no courage!…
[GOLAUD pursues her through the wood in silence.
ACT FIFTH.
SCENE I.—A lower hall in the castle. The women servants discovered, gathered together, while without children are playing before one of the ventilators of the hall.
AN OLD SERVANT.
You will see, you will see, my daughters; it will be to-night.—Some one will come to tell us by and by….
ANOTHER SERVANT.
They will not come to tell us…. They don't know what they are doing any longer….
THIRD SERVANT.
Let us wait here….
FOURTH SERVANT.
We shall know well enough when we must go up….
FIFTH SERVANT.
When the time is come, we shall go up of ourselves….
SIXTH SERVANT.
There is no longer a sound heard in the house….
SEVENTH SERVANT.
We ought to make the children keep still, who are playing before the ventilator.
EIGHTH SERVANT.
They will be still of themselves by and by.
NINTH SERVANT.
The time has not yet come….
Enter an old Servant.
THE OLD SERVANT.
No one can go in the room any longer. I have listened more than an hour…. You could hear the flies walk on the doors…. I heard nothing….
FIRST SERVANT.
Has she been left alone in the room?
THE OLD SERVANT.
No, no; I think the room is full of people.
FIRST SERVANT.
They will come, they will come, by and by….
THE OLD SERVANT.
Lord! Lord! It is not happiness that has come into the house…. One may not speak, but if I could say what I know…
SECOND SERVANT.
It was you who found them before the gate?
THE OLD SERVANT.
Why, yes! why, yes! it was I who found them. The porter says it was he who saw them first; but it was I who waked them. He was sleeping on his face and would not get up.—And now he comes saying, "It was I who saw them first." Is that just?—See, I burned myself lighting a lamp to go down cellar.—Now what was I going to do down cellar?—I can't remember any more what I was going to do down cellar.—At any rate I got up very early; it was not yet very light; I said to myself, I will go across the courtyard, and then I will open the gate. Good; I go down the stairs on tiptoe, and I open the gate as if it were an ordinary gate…. My God! My God! What do I see? Divine a little what I see!…
FIRST SERVANT.
They were before the gate?
THE OLD SERVANT.
They were both stretched out before the gate!… Exactly like poor folk that are too hungry…. They were huddled together like little children who are afraid…. The little princess was nearly dead, and the great Golaud had still his sword in his side…. There was blood on the sill….
SECOND SERVANT.
We ought to make the children keep still…. They are screaming with all their might before the ventilator….
THIRD SERVANT.
You can't hear yourself speak….
FOURTH SERVANT.
There is nothing to be done: I have tried already; they won't keep still….
FIRST SERVANT.
It seems he is nearly cured?
THE OLD SERVANT.
Who?
FIRST SERVANT.
The great Golaud.
THIRD SERVANT.
Yes, yes; they have taken him to his wife's room. I met them just now, in the corridor. They were holding him up as if he were drunk. He cannot yet walk alone.
THE OLD SERVANT.
He could not kill himself; he is too big. But she is hardly wounded, and it is she who is going to die…. Can you understand that?
FIRST SERVANT.
You have seen the wound?
THE OLD SERVANT.
As I see you, my daughter.—I saw everything, you understand…. I saw it before all the others…. A tiny little wound under her little left breast,—a little wound that wouldn't kill a pigeon. Is it natural?
FIRST SERVANT.
Yes, yes; there is something underneath….
SECOND SERVANT.
Yes; but she was delivered of her babe three days ago….
THE OLD SERVANT.
Exactly!… She was delivered on her death-bed; is that a little sign?—And what a child! Have you seen it?—A wee little girl a beggar would not bring into the world…. A little wax figure that came much too soon;… a little wax figure that must live in lambs' wool…. Yes, yes; it is not happiness that has come into the house….
FIRST SERVANT.
Yes, yes; it Is the hand of God that has been stirring….
SECOND SERVANT.
Yes, yes; all that did not happen without reason….
THIRD SERVANT.
It is as good lord Pélléas … where is he?—No one knows….
THE OLD SERVANT.
Yes, yes; everybody knows…. But nobody dare speak of it…. One does not speak of this;… one does not speak of that;… one speaks no more of anything;… one no longer speaks truth…. But I know he was found at the bottom of Blind Man's Spring;… but no one, no one could see him…. Well, well, we shall only know all that at the last day….
FIRST SERVANT.
I dare not sleep here any longer….
THE OLD SERVANT.
Yes, yes; once ill-fortune is in the house, one keeps silence in vain….
THIRD SERVANT.
Yes; it finds you all the same….
THE OLD SERVANT.
Yes, yes; but we do not go where we would….
FOURTH SERVANT.
Yes, yes; we do not do what we would….
FIRST SERVANT.
They are afraid of us now….
SECOND SERVANT.
They all keep silence….
THIRD SERVANT.
They cast down their eyes in the corridors.
FOURTH SERVANT.
They do not speak any more except in a low voice.
FIFTH SERVANT.
You would think they had all done it together.
SIXTH SERVANT.
One doesn't know what they have done….
SEVENTH SERVANT.
What is to be done when the masters are afraid?… [A silence.
FIRST SERVANT.
I no longer hear the children screaming.
SECOND SERVANT.
They are sitting down before the ventilator.
THIRD SERVANT.
They are huddled against each other.
THE OLD SERVANT.
I no longer hear anything in the house….
FIRST SERVANT.
You no longer even hear the children breathe….
THE OLD SERVANT.
Come, come; it is time to go up…. [Exeunt in silence.