(The limp body is borne away. All follow but Amaury, Yolanda, Renier.)
Now you shall hear, with shame,
But with exalted pride and happy tears;
Then come obliteration!
Speak, girl ... Nobility
Had never better title to its truth.
(Kisses her hand and goes.)
Amaury. Yolanda!... he!... this reverence as to
An angel? Speak!
Yolanda. Amaury——
Amaury. O pause not!
Yolanda. Then—to save her who's dead—from death and shame,
I took her place within the Paphian's arms.
Amaury. O!... and by me, driven by me, bore this!
(Overcome) Pure as the rills of Paradise, endured?
Yolanda. For you!—and her who sleeps forgiven there,
(With deep abandon.)