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Dagny.
Never! How canst thou think it? I, a woman!
Hiördis.
A woman, a woman,—who knows what a woman may do!—But one thing thou canst tell me, Dagny, for that thou surely knowest: when a man clasps to his breast the woman he loves—is it true that her blood burns, that her bosom throbs—that she swoons in a strange ecstasy?
Dagny.
[Blushing.] Hiördis, how canst thou!
Hiördis.
Come, tell me!
Dagny.
Surely thou thyself hast known it.
Hiördis.
Ay once, and only once; it was that night when Gunnar sat with me in my bower; he crushed me in his arms till my byrnie[1] burst, and then, then!
Dagny.
[Exclaiming.] What! Sigurd!
Hiördis.
Sigurd? What of Sigurd? I spoke of Gunnar—that night when he bore me away
- ↑ Breastplate.
