side day by day, and feign a love my heart shrinks from? Yet so it must be; it cannot be altered.
Hiördis.
[In a growing frenzy.] It <g>shall</g> be altered! We must out of this life, both of us! Seest thou this bow-string? With it can I surely hit my mark; for I have crooned fair sorceries over it! [Places an arrow in the bow, which is strung.] Hark! hark! that rushing in the air? It is the dead men's ride to Valhal: I have bewitched them hither;—we two will join them in their ride!
Sigurd.
[Shrinking back.] Hiördis, Hiördis—I fear thee!
Hiördis.
[Not heeding him.] Our fate no power can alter now! Oh, 'tis better so than if thou hadst wedded me here in this life—if I had sat in thy homestead weaving linen and wool for thee and bearing thee children—pah!
Sigurd.
Hold, hold! Thy sorceries have been too strong for thee; they have made thee soul-sick, Hiördis! [Horror-struck.] Ha, see—see! Gunnar's hall—it is burning!
Hiördis.
Let it burn, let it burn! The cloud-hall up yonder is loftier than Gunnar's rafter-roof!
Sigurd.
But Egil, thy son—they are slaying him!
