s.

GERVASE. Ah, what is it, Melisande? (She smiles and shakes her
head). . . . I met a magician in the woods this morning.

MELISANDE. Did he speak to you?

GERVASE. _He_ told _me_ the secret of happiness.

MELISANDE. What did he tell you?

GERVASE. He said it was marriage.

MELISANDE. Ah, but he didn't mean by marriage what so many people
mean.

GERVASE. He seemed a very potent magician.

MELISANDE. Marriage to many people means just food. Housekeeping. _He_
didn't mean that.

GERVASE. A very wise and reverend magician.

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!

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. Who knows what a dream is? Perhaps we fell asleep in
Fairyland a thousand years ago, and all that we thought real was a
dream, until now at last we are awake again.

MELISANDE. How wonderful that would be.

GERVASE. Perhaps we are dreaming now. But is it your dream or my
dream, Melisande?

MELISANDE (after thinking it out). I think I would rather it were your
dream, Gervase. For then I should be