Melisande.
Are you sure?… You do not suffer too much?
Golaud.
No, no, I have seen much worse. I am inured to iron and blood.
Melisande.
Shut your eyes and try to sleep. I will remain here all night…
Golaud.
No, no; I will not let you tire yourself thus. I am in want of nothing: I will sleep like a child… What is it, Melisande? Why do you weep all of a sudden?
Melisande (breaking into tears).
I am… I am sick here.
Golaud.
You are sick? What ails you, what ails you, Melisande?…
Melisande.
I do not know… I am sick here… I prefer to tell you to-day; lord, I am not happy here.
Golaud.
What has happened? Someone has done you harm… Has some one offended you?
Melisande.
No, no; no one has done me the least harm… It is not that…
Golaud.
But you must be hiding something from me? Tell me the whole truth. Melisande… Is it the King? Is it my mother? Is it Pelléas?…
Melisande.
No, no; it is not Pelléas. It is nobody… You cannot understand me… it is something that is stronger than myself…
Golaud.
Come; be reasonable, Melisande.—What would you have me do?—You are no longer a child.—Is it me that you would leave?
Melisande.
Oh no! it is not that… I would like to go away with you… It is here that I cannot longer live… I feel that I should not live long.
Golaud.
But there still needs a reason. They will think you mad. They will think you have childish dreams. Come, is it Pelléas, perhaps? I think he does not speak to you often…
Melisande.
Yes, yes; he speaks to me at times. He does not like me, I think; I have seen it in his eyes… But he speaks to me when he meets me…
Golaud.
You must not mind him. He has always been that way. He is a little singular. He will change, you will see; he is young…
Melisande.
But it is not that… it is not that.
Golaud.
What is it then? Can you not fit yourself to the life we lead here? Is it too sad here? It is true that this castle is very old and very sombre. It is very cold and very deep. And all those who live in it are already old. And the country side may seem very sad also, with all its forests, all its old forests without light. But we can make all that gayer if we want to. And after that joy, joy. One does not taste it every day; one must take things as they are. But tell me something: no matter what, I will do all that you wish.
