Where do you want to go?
YNIOLD.
Where it is light, little father.
GOLAUD.
No, no, my child; let us stay in the dark a little longer…. One cannot tell, one cannot tell yet…. Do you see those poor people down there trying to kindle a little fire in the forest?—It has rained. And over there, do you see the old gardener trying to lift that tree the wind has blown down across the road?—He cannot; the tree is too big; the tree is too heavy, and it will lie where it fell. All that cannot be helped…. I think Pélléas is mad….
YNIOLD.
No, little father, he is not mad; he is very good.
GOLAUD.
Do you want to see little mother?