But at her raised voice, Siegmund forgot death and the sword and all else, and feared only that she would wake Sieglinde, who now slept gently.
"Be still, be still," he whispered, "and wake her not."
And he bent over her, and sorrowed for her, for it seemed to him that all the world was gathered against her whom he loved so well, and that he alone, for whom she had braved the wrath of men and gods, was on her side. Should then he forsake her? And if, as the maid had told him, the giver of the sword was now unfaithful, and decreed him death, then he would have none of his Walhalla; Hella were sweeter to his troubled soul. High burned his anger at this unfaithfulness, and he turned to the maid who stood watching him.
"If then death is decreed for me," he said, "think you I will be at ease in Walhalla? Nay, Hella rather than such peace."
Then Brunnhilde's stem glance softened, and she marvelled that he so loved the woman.
"Then is eternal joy so worthless to thee?" she asked him softly. "Dost thou desire nothing but the woman who is sleeping there? Is nought else sweet to thy soul, and nought else desirable?"
And he looked at her with bitterness, and marked the softened glance of her eye. Yet though she appeared so young and so maidenly, her heart must needs be utterly cold, since she did not comprehend how a woman filled the heart of the man who loved her.
"Dost thou mock me?" he said. "For what else could I care than that which lies here? I think thou art a foe to me, and would gladly see harm and woe come to me. Be it so; and may my grief satisfy the greed and hunger of thy heart. But as for Walhalla—it is idle for thee to name it to me. Dost thou not see? Here is my heaven and my rest."
Then she began to understand the need of his heart, and with that she felt a tenderness for both him and the woman which was new to her.
"Yes, yes," she said, "I feel what thou feelest. But, Siegmund, what must be, must be. Leave her then to me. Safely and surely will I ward her and keep all harm from her."