[CHAPTER VII]
THE FIGHT OF SIEGMUND
Swiftly came Sieglinde up the rocky path, and Siegmund followed hard after her, bidding her rest and not fare so wildly on; for after that the spell of spring and of love had so wrought within her that she recked nothing of leaving the house and hearth of Hunding, and the transport and sweet madness of her love had been fulfilled, horror and dread had seized the woman's heart, and she was distraught with unspeakable dismay at her wild adventure. Then had she risen up from his side in the middle of the spring night, even while he, filled full of love, was sleeping, to escape from what she had done. But at her stirring he had awoke, and through the hours betwixt that and day had he followed after her, she still flying from him through field and forest. For at first on that evening of yesterday, which in the morning's light seemed to her so long ago, the torrent of her love had carried her unthinking, but now it seemed to her that her deed was altogether unholy. Utterly had she loved the man, and utterly was his love hers, and so great was the might of that and the transport of its power, that in its first outpouring it seemed to her that all else was of no import beside it. But afterwards she had thought on what she had done, and shame and horror burned within her with as fierce a flame. Loveless had her marriage with Hunding been, yet marriage it was, and hallowed by the ordinance of the gods. But this was lawlessness incarnate, and unnatural wedlock. Yet in her woman's heart she blamed Siegmund not at all; the blame in her mind was wholly hers. She had brought shame on herself, but that was a small thing compared to the shame in which she had made him a partaker.
But now for very weariness her limbs could bear her no further, and at the top of the rocky path nigh to where Wotan and Brunnhilde had sat that night, she faltered, and it was his arm that saved her from falling.
"Wait, wait," he whispered. "Speak to me, and let us have done with this dumbness of fear. Thou art safe; my arm encompasseth thee; there is no fear while thou leanest on my breast."
At his touch, again the eternal woman of her nature awoke, and as he led her very gently to the very seat where Wotan had sat with Brunnhilde by his knee, she clung passionately to him, and gazing long into his face, embraced him. Yet even while her lips met his, the horrors of the night rose insurgent within her, and again she flung herself off from him, shame branding her, as a felon is branded.
"Siegmund, Siegmund!" she cried. "What have we done? Shame on me, shame on me!"
"Shame there has been, Sieglinde," said he, "and that when thou didst abide in the house of Hunding. But that shame shall I soon wash away with his blood, and in that crimson stream shall it be cleansed. Ah, fare not on so wildly; wait here, for I am well assured that he will come here in pursuit, and here also shall he meet the fate which has been appointed by him who in my sorest need granted me to find the sword. O sword of my need," cried he, and his fingers tightened on its hilt, "not in vain have I called on the name of vengeance. Surely I will repay."
Then was she a little quieted at his loving touch, and at the fierceness of surety of his hate towards Hunding, but soon she started up and listened.