JANE (awed). No, Melisande, would you really? Wave a lily hand to him?
(She waves one) I mean, wouldn't it be rather--_you_ know. Rather
forward.
MELISANDE. Forward!
JANE (upset). Well, I mean--Well, of course, I suppose it was
different in those days.
MELISANDE. How else could he know that I loved him? How else could he
wear my gage in his helm when he rode to battle?
JANE. Well, of course, there _is_ that.
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.
Pages:
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214