contrasted her own false heart with Olaf’s faithful affection, and angered with him that, in spite of her pleadings, he should still command her to wed him. Shrewd old Ingrid listened eagerly to the words spoken by the king. Seeing that the girl had been touched by Olaf’s affection, she sneered at her “softness,” adding to her humiliation by criticising her meekness, and roused her anger still further by affected surprise that her daughter should allow even a king to command her to wed him. In Gudrun’s excited mood, the sorceress, played upon the girl’s emotions like a skilful harper, bringing out the tones he desired.
“I vowed in rashness and in haste, my mother,” were her first words, “and I cannot keep my vow.”
“What vow?” asked the stern old woman.
“The vow I swore to wed the king and avenge thee.”
“That a rash vow! Why Gudrun, girl, thou hast hated Olaf Tryggevesson since thou wert old enough to know friend from foe. I thought thee a true Norse maid, almost a Valkyrie, fit to meet thy hero father, and thou art but a silly girl, after all, whom a king’s name may terrify.”
“Nay! nay! my mother, thou art unjust! When I so vowed I thought only of Olaf the king, in my father’s place, Olaf, our conqueror. When I thought of his wooing me, it was as a rough viking striving to subdue me because I was braver than the
