MELISANDE. Love is romance. Is there anything romantic in breakfast—or lunch?
GERVASE. Well, not so much in lunch, of course, but——
MELISANDE. How well you understand! Why do the others not understand?
GERVASE (smiling at her). Perhaps because they have not seen Melisande.
MELISANDE. Oh no, no, that isn't it. All the others——
GERVASE. Do you mean your suitors?
MELISANDE. Yes. They are so unromantic, so material. The clothes they wear; the things they talk about. But you are so different. Why is it?
GERVASE. I don't know. Perhaps because I am the third son of a woodcutter. Perhaps because they don't know that you are the Princess. Perhaps because they have never been in the enchanted forest.
MELISANDE. What would the forest tell them?
GERVASE. All the birds in the forest are singing "Melisande"; the little brook runs through the forest murmuring "Melisande"; the tall trees bend their heads and whisper to each other "Melisande." All the flowers have put on their gay dresses for her. Oh, Melisande!