"It is now my turn to tell my guest of myself," he said, "and let him know where my feet have borne me. It was kin of mine whom thou hast slaughtered in impotent defence of a maid of my race; my kin are the brothers you killed, and all day I have been on the track of him who killed them. But all day have I been too late, though fast on the trail. Yet when I return home, whom find I at my hearth? Him, the murderer of my kin. Thus there is blood already between us, and ever shall be."
At his words his wife Sieglinde rose with terror and pity in her face, and drew near to the two men. But Hunding heeded her not.
"To-night," he said, "thou art guest at mine; that must needs be so. But at dawn to-morrow, Wolfs whelp, I am thy host no more, and thou shalt answer for the blood of my kindred which thou hast shed. Hast thou no arms? So much the worse, for thou wouldest be safer for a sword, and at sunrise we meet. To-night we are host and guest, but a dawn to-morrow be ready to meet me as the avenger of my kindred."
"To-night we are host and guest."
At these words Sieglinde could contain herself no more, but came quickly up, and placed herself between the two men.
"No, no!" she cried. "It cannot be, Hunding."