PÉLLÉAS.
I cannot reach thy hand with my lips….
MÉLISANDE.
I cannot lean out further…. I am on the point of falling….—Oh! oh! my hair is falling down the tower!…
[Her tresses fall suddenly over her head, as she is leaning out so, and stream over PÉLLÉAS]
PÉLLÉAS.
Oh! oh! what is it?… Thy hair, thy hair is falling down to me!… All thy locks, Mélisande, all thy locks have fallen down the tower!… I hold them in my hands; I hold them in my mouth…. I hold them in my arms; I put them about my neck…. I will not open my hands again to-night….
MÉLISANDE.
Let me go! let me go!… Thou wilt make me fall!…