Lancéor.
Let us speak no more of the dead.... You have not told me how your shipwreck....
Joyzelle.
We lost our way in a thick fog.... A fog so thick that it filled our hands like white feathers.... The pilot mistook the course.... He thought he saw a beacon.... The ship struck upon a hidden reef.... But no one perished.... The waves bore me away; and then I saw the blue water glide before my eyes as though I were sinking in a stifling sky.... I went down and down.... Then some one caught hold of me and I lost consciousness....
Lancéor.
Who caught hold of you?...
Joyzelle.
The lord of this island.
Lancéor.