And Douarnek, along with the three other soldiers, repeated in a low voice, vibrating with pious admiration, this last refrain:
| "So it was that she offered her blood to Hesus, |
| To Hesus for the deliverance of Gaul! |
| She was young, she was fair, |
| And holy was she, |
| Hena her name! |
| Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen!" |
I alone did not join in the last refrain of the song. I was too deeply moved!
Noticing my emotion and my silence, Douarnek said to me surprised:
"What, Schanvoch, have you lost your voice? You remain silent at the close of so glorious a song?"
"Your speech is sooth, Douarnek; it is just because that song is particularly glorious to me—that you see me so deeply moved."
"That song is particularly glorious to you? I do not understand you."
"Hena was the daughter of one of my ancestors."
"What say you!"
"Hena was the daughter of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, who died, together with his wife and almost all his family, at the great battle of Vannes—a battle that was fought on land and water nearly three centuries ago. From father to son, I descend from Joel."