MELISANDE. And then when he has slain his enemies in battle, he comes back to me. I knot my sheets together so as to form a rope—for I have been immured in my room—and I let myself down to him. He places me on the saddle in front of him, and we ride forth together into the world—together for always!
JANE (a little uncomfortably). You do get married, I suppose, darling, or do you—er—
MELISANDE. We stop at a little hermitage on the way, and a good priest marries us.
JANE (relieved.) Ah, yes.
MELISANDE. And sometimes he is not in armour. He is a prince from Fairyland. My father is king of a neighbouring country, a country which is sorely troubled by a dragon.
JANE. By a what, dear?
MELISANDE. A dragon.
JANE. Oh, yes, of course.
MELISANDE. The king, my father, offers my hand and half his kingdom to anybody who will slay the monster. A prince who happens to be passing through the country essays the adventure. Alas, the dragon devours him.
JANE. Oh, Melisande, that isn't the one?