“Igraine!”
“Man, man, how long will you torture me? I am only a little strong.”
The calm of tragedy seemed to dissolve away on the instant. Pelleas thrust his hands into the air like a swimmer sinking to his death. His heart answered Igraine’s exceeding bitter cry.
“Would we had never come to this!”
“I cannot say that, though my heart breaks.”
Pelleas fell down and clasped her with his arms about the knees. His face was hidden in the folds of her surcoat. Presently he loosed his hold, looked up, took a ring from his hand and thrust it into her palm.
“The signet of a king,” he said; “keep it for need, Igraine. Have you money?”
“I have money, Pelleas.”
“God guard you!”