[Suddenly a look of recognition and joy floods her face, and her eyes seem to follow some divine approach. She murmurs]:
How beautiful! How right!
[And fluttering in Gwymplane's arms she is dead. He lays her gently back, lifts one of her hands, kisses it, looks at her as if the last agony had been drawn out of his soul, then passes his hand across his brow, tries to speak, and after a long pause:]
Gwymplane
It appears we have made good our escape.
Ursus [raising his head from his arms]
The tide is with us.
Gwymplane
We are bound—where?