"Then get thee back to Walhalla," cried he, "and give my greeting to the high walls of Wotan, and to him who sits therein and is lord thereof. And greet for me Walse"—for he knew not that Walse his father was none other than Wotan—"and greet the many heroes and the maidens of the will of the highest. But I come not after thee."
Then Brunnhilde was very sorry, yet what was to be, was to be.
"Siegmund," she said, "thou hast looked on me, and with me thou must go. Lightly thou reckest of mortal foes, for thy limbs are strong, but the wise man wars not against death. I am here to claim thee for him."
But though a chill seemed to fall round Siegmund, as if the sun had passed behind a cloud, yet was he not afraid; and, lo! his dear burden still leaned at his knee.
"I come not," he said, "for where Sieglinde is, in weal or woe, there I abide, and go not thence. Thy face daunts me not, I shrink not before thy glance, though bright it is with the brightness of danger. Besides, who is it that deals death to me?"
"The hand of Hunding," she said. "For thus—at last—the lot was cast."
But Siegmund only smiled, and his fingers dwelt lovingly on the sword-hilt.
"I fear not that," he said, "for it is by my hand that he will fall, and if thou seekest a dead man, I will give thee a corpse, but not mine. Look at my sword, for he who let me gain it, promised my safety. Thus thy threats and thy warning are idle words, the buzzing of a fly."
Then Brunnhilde's face grew stern and set.
"He who let thee gain the sword," she cried in a loud voice, "now is determined otherwise, and has decreed thy death. Thus the magic of the sword is a thing of nought, a shadow that has passed away."