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.