Sigurd.
Thou art sick; come, go in with me.
Hiördis.
Nay, here will I bide; I have but little time left.
Sigurd.
What has befallen thee?
Hiördis.
What has befallen? That know I not; but 'twas true what thou said'st to-day, that Gunnar and Dagny stand between us; we must away from them and from life; then can we be together!
Sigurd.
We? Ha, thou meanest
Hiördis.
[With dignity.] I have been homeless in this world from that day thou didst take another to wife. That was ill done of thee! All good gifts may a man give to his faithful friend—all, save the woman he loves; for if he do that, he rends the Norn's secret web, and two lives are wrecked. An unerring voice within me tells me I came into the world that my strong soul might cheer and uphold thee through heavy days, and that thou wert born to the end I might find in <g>one</g> man all that seemed to me great and noble; for this I know Sigurd—had we two held together, then hadst thou become more famous than all others, and I happier.
Sigurd.
It avails not now to mourn. Think'st thou 'tis a merry life that awaits me? To be by Dagny's
