Yolanda. Say.... No use.
Too late.
Berengere. His step?
Yolanda. Oh, unmistakable;
Along the corridor. Go!
[The curtains are thrown back.
Amaury (at the threshold). My Yolanda!
[Hastens down and takes her, passive, in his arms. Berengere goes.
My, my Yolanda!...
[Kisses her.
To touch you is as triumph to the blood,
Is as the boon of battle to the strong!
Yolanda. Amaury, no; release me and say why
You come: The Saracens—?