The servants obeyed promptly; and the king set forth with the saint, who had come at his prayer, and a numerous retinue. They put their horses to their full speed, and followed the course of the flying falcon, who led them to the glade where lay the dead Tryphyna and her living child.
The king then threw himself from his horse, and uttered cries that might have made the very oaks to weep; but St. Veltas silenced him.
“Hush!” said he, “and join with me in prayer to God; He can even yet repair all.”
With these words, he knelt down with all those who were present, and after addressing a fervent prayer to Heaven, he said to the dead body, “Arise!”
Tryphyna obeyed.
“Take thine head and thy child,” added the saint, “and follow us to the castle of Comorre.”
It was done as he commanded.
Then the terrified escort took horse once more, and spurred onwards towards Cornouaille. But however rapidly they rode, Tryphyna was ever in advance; holding her son upon her left arm, and her head on her right.
And thus they came before the castle of the murderer. Comorre, who saw them coming, caused the drawbridge to be raised. St. Veltas drew near the moat, and exclaimed, with a loud voice,
“Count of Cornouaille, I bring thee back thy wife, such as thy wickedness has made her; and thy son, as God has bestowed him on thee. Wilt thou receive them beneath thy roof?”