"Larry--Farewell!" "My heart, Larry--" It was the handmaiden's murmur.

"My heart feels like a bird that is flying from a nest of sorrow." We were pacing down the length of the bridge, guards of the _Akka_ beside us, others following with those companies of _ladala_ that had rushed to aid us; in front of us the bandaged Rador swung gently within a litter; beside him, in another, lay Nak, the frog-king--much less of him than there had been before the battle began, but living.
Hours had passed since the terror I have just related.

My first task had been to search for Throckmartin and his wife among the fallen multitudes strewn thick as autumn leaves along the flying arch of stone, over the cavern ledge, and back, back as far as the eye could reach.
At last, Lakla and Larry helping, we found them.

They lay close to the bridge-end, not parted--locked tight in each other's arms, pallid face to face, her hair streaming over his breast! As though when that unearthly life the Dweller had set within them passed away, their own had come back for one fleeting instant--and they had known each other, and clasped before kindly death had taken them.
"Love is stronger than all things." The handmaiden was weeping softly.
"Love never left them.

Love was stronger than the Shining One.