Again profound silence fell upon the crowd. Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen, had ascended the third pyre.
Joel and Margarid, their three sons, Guilhern, Albinik and Mikael, Guilhern's wife and little children all of whom so dearly loved Hena, all her relatives and all the members of her tribe held one another in a close embrace, and said to one another:
"There is Hena.... There is our Hena!"
As the virgin of the Isle of Sen stood upon the pyre that was ornamented with white veils, greens and flowers, the crowds of the tribes cried in one voice: "How beautiful she is!... How holy!"
Joel writes it now down in all sincerity. His daughter Hena was indeed very beautiful as she stood erect on the pyre, lighted by the mellow light of the moon and resplendent in her black tunic, her blonde hair and her green chaplet, while her arms, whiter than ivory, embraced her gold harp!
The bards ordered silence.
The virgin of the Isle of Sen sang in a voice as pure as her own soul:
"The daughter of Joel and Margarid comes to offer gladly her life as a sacrifice to Hesus!
"Oh, All-Powerful! From the stranger deliver the soil of our father!
"Gauls of Britanny, you have the lance and the sword!