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The complexities of real life are vaguely hinted at here: instead of Golaud, the mediaeval, tyrannous husband, we have Selysette, the meek, self-sacrificing wife; instead of the instinctive, unconscious love of Pelleas and Melisande, we have great burning passion. But this play, too, was only a stepping-stone a link between the old method and the new that is to follow.
Are you afraid of my old lips? How I have pitied you these months!" She tells him that she has not been unhappy. But perhaps, he says, she is of those who are unhappy without knowing it. Golaud enters, ferocious and distraught. He has blood on his forehead. It is nothing, he says he has passed through a thicket of thorns. Mélisande would wipe his brow. He repulses her fiercely.
Mélisande displays agitation: "What shall we say if Golaud asks where it is?" "The truth, the truth," replies Pelléas. The scene changes to an apartment in the castle. Golaud lies upon a bed, with Mélisande bending over him. He has been wounded while hunting. Mélisande is compassionate, perhaps remorseful.
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