"Father," Dea answered, "when two beings have always been together from
infancy, and that state is disturbed, death must come. I am not ill, but
I am going to die."

She raised herself on the mattress, crying in delirium, "He is no longer
here, no longer here. How dark it is!" Gwynplaine came to her side, and
Dea laid her hand on his head.

"Gwynplaine!" she cried.

And Gwynplaine received her in his arms.

"Yes, it is I, Gwynplaine. I am here. I hold you in my arms. Dea, we
live. All our troubles are over. Nothing can separate us now. We will
renew our old happy life. We are going to Holland. We will marry. There
is nothing to fear."

"I don't understand it in the least," said Ursus. "I, who saw him
carried to the grave. I am as great a fool as if I were in love myself.
But, Gwynplaine, be careful with her."

The vessel started. They passed Chatham and the mouth of the Medway, and
approached the sea.

Suddenly Dea got up.

"Something's the matter with me," she said. "What is wrong? You have
brought life to me, my Gwynplaine, life and joy. And yet I feel as if my
soul could not be contained in my body."