Let the vein of my heart be pierced, let my blood leap forth like a lion, let it gush like a subterranean sea beneath the iron of the drill.
—And now,
And now, depart! There is no place for you here.
The Princess: Let me carry my father with me.
Tête-d'or: Take him! Carry away the fallen.
The Princess (kneeling before the body): Sire!
O sacred dead, let me touch you and be not angry thereat, for these are the hands of your daughter.
And as you carried me here and there in your arms when I was already grown,
Even so I shall bear you away, O sole remaining possession, O my dead and fallen race.
(With difficulty she puts the body on her shoulders and goes out, carrying it thus on her back.