I said.... What did I say?... Perhaps I was too quick.... LANCÉOR. Joyzelle, your eyes are moist at the thought of the dead and belie your words.... JOYZELLE. No, it is not for them.... Perhaps I was harsh.... And yet, they are wrong. LANCÉOR. Let us speak no more of the dead.... You have not told me how your shipwreck.... JOYZELLE. We lost our way in a thick fog.... A fog so thick that it filled our hands like white feathers.... The pilot mistook the course.... He thought he saw a beacon.... The ship struck upon a hidden reef.... But no one perished.... The waves bore me away; and then I saw the blue water glide before my eyes as though I were sinking in a stifling sky.... I went down and down.... Then some one caught hold of me and I lost consciousness.... LANCÉOR. Who caught hold of you?... JOYZELLE. The lord of this island. LANCÉOR. And who is this lord?... JOYZELLE. He is an old man who wanders like a restless shade about this marble palace.... LANCÉOR. If I had been there!... JOYZELLE. What would you have done?... LANCÉOR. I should have saved you!... JOYZELLE. Was I not saved?... LANCÉOR. It is not the same thing!... You would not have suffered, nothing would have come to you.... I should have carried you on the crest of the waves.... Ah, I do not know how.... Like a cup full of precious pearls, of which not one must be touched by a shadow; like a flower of the dawn, from which we fear to shake a single dewdrop.... When I think of the dangers which you, so fair, so fragile, ran among the cruel rocks, in that old man's arms!... What he did was fine; he did the impossible.... But it was not enough.... How did you reach the shore at last?... JOYZELLE. I awoke lying on the sands.... The old man was there. Then he had me carried to this palace.... LANCÉOR. Is he king of this island?... JOYZELLE. The island is almost desert, one sees none but a few servants who move about in silence.... He can have for his subjects only the trees, the flowers and the happy birds with which the island seems filled.... LANCÉOR. What he did was well done.... JOYZELLE. He is good and kind; and he received me as my father himself could not have received me.... Yet I do not like him.... LANCÉOR. Why? JOYZELLE. I believe he loves me.... LANCÉOR. What!... He dares!... No, it is not possible, or else the years no longer have the weight they should have and reason escapes us when death draws near.... JOYZELLE. And yet I fear it.... He gave me to understand.... He is strange and sad.... They say he has a son who is very far from here, who is lost, perhaps.... He is always thinking of him.... When he thinks that he will see him again, his face lights up, he.... Here he is!... [_Enter MERLIN._ MERLIN.