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"They are looking at the light." "They do not say anything?" "No, papa, they do not close their eyes.... Oh! oh!... I am terribly afraid!" "Why, what are you afraid of? look! look!" demands Golaud. "Oh, oh! I am going to cry, papa! let me down! let me down!" insists Yniold, in nameless terror. Mélisande and Pelléas meet in an apartment in the castle.
The physician approaches the bed and examines the body of Mélisande. "They are right," he says. There is a silence. "I saw nothing. Are you sure?" questions Arkël. "Yes, yes." "I heard nothing. So quickly! so quickly! She goes without a word!" Golaud sobs aloud. "Do not remain here," says Arkël. "She must have silence now. Come; come. It is terrible, but it is not your fault.
The hesitant and melancholy personages who invest its scenes Mélisande, timid, naïve, child-like, wistful, mercurial, infinitely pathetic; Pelléas, dream-filled, ardent, yet honorable in his passion; old Arkël, wise, gentle, and resigned; the tragic and brooding figure of Golaud; Little Yniold, artless and pitiful, a figure impossible anywhere save in Maeterlinck; the grave and simple diction, at times direct and homely in phrasing and imagery, at times rapturous, subtle, and evasive; the haunting mise-en-scène: the dim forest, the fountain in the park, the luminous and fragrant nightfall, the occasional glimpses, sombre and threatening, of the sea, the silent and gloomy castle, all these unite to form a dramatic and poetic and pictorial ensemble which completely fascinates and enchains the mind.
Some days earlier Mélisande and her husband had been found stretched out senseless before the castle gate, Golaud having still in his side the sword with which he had sought to kill himself.
She is sure it is there. Golaud bids her go at once and search for it. She fears to go alone, and he suggests that she ask Pelléas to accompany her. The next scene discovers Mélisande with Pelléas in the grotto. They are deeply agitated. It is very dark, but Pelléas describes to her the look of the place, for, he tells her, she must be able to answer Golaud if he should question her.
"Yes, I think I can see to the bottom of the abyss," rejoins Pelléas. "Is it the light that trembles so?" He straightens up, turns, and looks at Golaud. "Yes, it is the lantern," answers Mélisande's husband, his voice shaking. "See I moved it to throw light on the walls." "I stifle here.... Let us go!" exclaims Pelléas. They leave in silence.
That is what I wanted you to perceive," insinuates Golaud. "Let us go to the edge of this overhanging rock, and do you lean over a little. You will feel it in your face.... 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 down into the abyss, Pelléas?"
"No, papa, they are afraid when I am not with them.... They always weep in the dark.... That makes one weep, too.... She is pale, papa." "Ah! ah!... patience, my God, patience!" cries the anguished Golaud.... "They kiss each other sometimes?" he queries. "Yes ... yes; ... once ... when it rained." "They kissed each other? But how, how did they kiss?"
It seems to me it seems to me well, then, it is this: I ask you if you loved him with a guilty love? Were you were you both guilty?" "No, no; we were not guilty," she replies; "why do you ask me that?" Arkël and the physician appear at the door. "You may come in," says Golaud despairingly; "it is useless, I shall never know! I shall die here like a blind man!" "You will kill her," warns Arkël.
"We shall have a storm to-night," he says, "yet it is so calm now.... One might embark unwittingly and come back no more." They watch the departure of a great ship that is leaving the port, the ship that brought Golaud and his young wife. "Why does she sail to-night?... She may be wrecked," says Mélisande.... "The night comes quickly," observes Pelléas. A silence falls between them.
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