Gunnar.
Ay, ay, so I have thought; we are one too many.
Hiördis.
Two, mayhap.
Gunnar.
[Who has not heard her last words.] But that shall be set right.
Hiördis.
[Looks at him interrogatively.] Set right? Then thou art minded to?
Gunnar.
To fit out my warships and put to sea; I will win back the honour I have lost because thou wast dearer to me than all beside.
Hiördis.
[Thoughtfully.] Thou wilt put to sea? Ay, so it may be best for us both.
Gunnar.
Even from the day we sailed from Iceland, I saw that it would go ill with us. Thy soul is strong and proud; there are times when I well-nigh fear thee; yet, it is strange—chiefly for that do I hold thee so dear. Dread goes forth from thee like a spell; methinks thou couldst lure me to the blackest deeds, and all would seem good to me that thou didst crave. [Shaking his head reflectively.] Unfathomable is the Norn's rede; Sigurd should have been thy husband.
Hiördis.
[Vehemently.] Sigurd!
