PÉLLÉAS.
Oh, how thou sayest that!… Thy voice seems to have blown across the sea in spring!… I have never heard it until now;… one would say it had rained on my heart!… Thou sayest that so frankly!… Like an angel questioned!… I cannot believe it, Mélisande!… Why shouldst thou love me?—Nay, why dost thou love me?—Is what thou sayest true?—Thou dost not mock me?—Thou dost not lie a little, to make me smile?…