"Sleep sound, beloved, till the battle be overpast, and peace, the peace of victory, welcome thy waking."

Then for the last time he turned from her, for peace was not yet, until Nothung his sword had spoken sharp words with its flaming tongue. Swiftly he strode up the rocky ridge, where the embattled thunder-clouds swallowed him up, nor was there any fear in his heart: only he longed to see Hunding face to face, and drive vengeance home.

But Sieglinde lay there smiling in her sleep, for it was even as Siegmund had supposed, and she was a child again living with her mother in the forest. Yet even as Siegmund left her, the tranquillity of her sleep was shaken, and it seemed to her that her father and the boy Siegmund were in the forest together, and though the hour was late, they had not yet returned. And she cried to her mother that her heart misgave her, for she was troubled with the looks and the words of certain strangers. Then in her dream the sweet air of the forest grew foul and black, and smoke swirled silently out of the woods, and tongues and fingers of flame came nearer, and the house where they dwelt caught fire. Then aloud she cried on Siegmund to save her, and with her own cry awoke. Yet was it not perhaps her own cry that woke her, but the sudden and sharp din of thunder near by, and starting up she saw she was alone, and all round her were storm-clouds of awful blackness, and from one to another shot the fires of lightning, and the thunder bellowed when it saw them. And mixed with the lightnings and thunders were the red cries of the horns of battle. Then, and her heart stood still when she heard, from not far off came the voice of Hunding, which she knew well and hated.

"Wehwalt, Wehwalt!" it cried, calling her beloved by the name he had shed as trees shed their leaves in autumn. "Where are thou? Wait for me; I am coming swiftly; else shall my hounds make thee stay."

Then in answer came the voice she knew and loved; "Think not to hide from me, Hunding," it cried, "for all that the storm is so black and blinding. The father of the gods himself shall not hide thee from me. Stay where thou art and I will surely find thee."

And his voice grew louder as he spake, so she knew that he was coming nearer.

Then from the ridge close behind came Hunding's voice again, not a stone's-throw off, yet in the thick darkness she could see nought.

"O shameful wooer!" it cried. "In Fricka's hand is thy lot set."

And immediately Siegmund answered, being also come to the selfsame ridge—

"Still dost thou think I am weaponless, coward and fool that thou art? Thinkest thou to terrify me by thy woman-champion? Fight me, fight me. Remember thou the sword in thy house which none could move. Lightly I unsheathed it, and its tongue shall lick up thy life-blood; for thy life-blood it thirsts, and soon will I give it to drink."