The Valkyries

by E. F. Benson; Richard Wagner

For a moment there was silence. Then said Sieglinde: "I found him here by the hearth, Hunding; he was faint, his foes pursued him."

Hunding looked darkly at her, and more darkly yet at the stranger. He on Hunding's entrance had turned himself, and risen from his seat, as if to greet his host; but even as his greeting was on his lips he had paused, for there was something in that black look which made him feel some echo of Sieglinde's hate.

"It is ever well to help the helpless," said Hunding evilly. "Thou gavest him refreshment?"

"Even so," said she. "He was my guest—your guest; faint by the hearth I found him. He waited for your coming." Not a smile of welcome did Hunding give, for it was not his way to smile; and already in his black heart hatred blackened towards his guest, and suspicion, ere yet it came, cast its shadow. And as his host did not greet him, neither did the stranger greet his host. Yet he could not bear that the woman should be blamed for what he had done. His was the blame.

"I was shelterless," said he, looking at Hunding. "She sheltered me. I was faint: she revived me. Is there blame in that?"

"Blame? Who talks of blame?" said Hunding more blackly yet. "My hearth is holy: not otherwise has any guest of mine found it, and guest of mine art thou. Inviolable are these laws."

And without more words he turned to Sieglinde, who, as her custom was, took his weapons of hunting and hung them up on the ash-tree beneath the gleaming sword-hilt Hunding hated the sword-hilt, for he had not been able to move it, and he knew that in this world there was but one who could. On that day also he knew trouble would come to his house. But he told Sieglinde to bring supper for him and his guest, and as she moved about her work, he stood beneath the ash-stem and looked from her to the stranger and back again. Each was cast in noble mould, and they were strangely like the one to the other, for the head of each was bright with sunny hair, and in the grey eye of each was seated some secret sorrow. Tall was his wife, and tall the stranger, and the skin of each was fair as the skin of a child, and as smooth. For himself he felt like a base-born man in the presence of the gently bred; and as he looked he hated each, and the shadow of his suspicion grew darker. Then he turned to the stranger, and speaking like a man who conceals nought—

"Thy way has been long," he said, "and thou hast no horse. Where hast thou come, and whither goest thou? What journey has thus travel-stained thee?"

Then said the stranger: "The storm and the foe have driven me far, and by what way I know not. And where I have come I know not, for my way was long, and the heavens and earth were blinded with tempest. Tell me then where I have come."

And as Hunding looked on him again, the likeness of the stranger to his wife smote on him like a blow; and again he looked from one to the other, as Sieglinde brought in venison and the fresh-baked bread, and put them ready on the table. But he answered him with seeming frankness.