Of the pain made me swoon towards death.—Dead!
O Tête-d'or!
You are dead before me and soon I shall follow you.
(The king stirs and sighs.
He is not dead.
The King: Ah!
The Princess: His soul returns to him. He has been wounded in some combat. He is covered with blood.
But why have they left him thus dishevelled and uncleansed?
The King: Ah!
The Princess: I will not speak. Thus do we die together!