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….
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….