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!
MELISANDE (awed). Is it true? (They are silent for a little, happy to
be together. . . . He looks back at her and gives a sudden little laugh.)
What is it?
GERVASE. Just you and I--together--on the top of the world like this.
MELISANDE. Yes, that's what I feel, too. (After a pause) Go on
pretending.
GERVASE. Pretending?
MELISANDE. That the world is very young.
GERVASE. _We_ are very young, Melisande.
MELISANDE (timidly). It is only a dream, isn't it?
GERVASE.
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