Ketill lay with a smile on his face. Once he tried to lift his head, but could not.
“Only a little while now,” he said. Then, glancing towards old Kata, he went on:
“Lay her hands on my lips, that I may kiss them.”
Kata did so.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, as he kissed the limp hands of her who had been his wife. “And good-bye for a little while.”
“It is time now,” he said faintly—“time to say good-bye to all.”
One after another bent over him, kissed his forehead, and received the touch of his lips.
Ørlygur came last. He threw himself down sobbing on the bed.
“My son—my son,” the old man whispered. Then his face seemed to harden, and he lay as if unconscious. After a while he looked up again, and seemed trying to speak. Faintly at first, then in a stronger voice, he spoke once more:
“God—God—my God!...”