But even now when the horror of her full doom was told to Brunnhilde, still she swooned not nor bewailed herself. But among the sisters again rose wild tumult and bewilderment of pity, for of all dooms to fall into the hands of a man was to them the most shameful, and the stain and disgrace that was decreed to her touched their sisterhood. And with one consent they entreated their father to have pity, and not put that uttermost degradation on her, but refrain from cursing her with so great an infamy. Yet he paid no heed to their wailings, for it was even as he said, and Brunnhilde was the maiden of his will no more, but a maiden only, and a man will find the maiden at the last.

Then because they still importuned him till he was vexed with them, he turned fiercely on them. "Her fate is fixed," he cried, "and ye have heard it. From you as from me is she for ever separate because she was faithless; and as I have said, so shall it be. No more shall her steed whinny to its fellows as ye fly together on the wings of the winds. And here shall she abide till the man who fares by shall pluck the full bloom of her sleeping maidenhood, and from maid shall make of her mother. To man her master shall her heart be bent, and meekly shall she do all his will. The cares of the house shall be hers, and by the hearth-side shall she sit and ply the distaff, as befits a wife, and the mockers among men, it may be, shall make merry at her. Woman shall she be among the sons of men, and her fate none other than theirs."

Then was the spirit of Brunnhilde broken within her, for the punishment was harder than she could bear; yet still she said no word. But her sisters again broke out into lamentations, whereat Wotan was angry, for what must be, must be, and their bewailings were but a waste of breath and cowardly withal. Nor was it his will to palaver longer with them.

"Begone, begone!" he cried, "for but a little more and ye share her doom. So begone, lest her fate be yours also. For the last time ye look on her face. And should one of you remain here lingering, in vain hope of resisting my will or changing my unchangeable mind, Brunnhilde's doom is hers too. So be wise while there is time. Get ye gone from this rock, her sleeping-place, and let none again be found here. To horse with you all, for swiftly shall woe light on the loiterer."

Then the sisters, seeing that the doom was spoken, and though Walhalla should fall, yet should Wotan's word abide, went very sorrowfully to their horses, and loosed them from their tetherings, and each mounted and rode off. Shrill through the woods and the echoing mountain-side sounded the storm of their going, for the winds awoke to speed them, and over dale and down glen they sped swiftly, till the noise of their travel grew faint, and on the mountain-side there abode only Wotan and Brunnhilde, who still lay crouched at his feet.

[CHAPTER X]

THE SLEEP OF BRUNNHILDE

Thus the wild storm of the ride of the Valkyries passed away. Like smoke they were borne away on the wings of the tempest, and a windless calm fell round about the place where Wotan and Brunnhilde abode on the mountain-top. The sun was already set, though still to westwards there lingered the reflected fires of its setting, and star by star came out in the deepening vault of blue overhead, until all heaven was spangled with their burning and grew bright at eventide. Eastward rose the moon at its fullest, to climb its silent and appointed journey over the firmament, and shone with a light exceeding bright and clear as running water. In the brake the chorus of birds was hushed, and over hill and valley spread and deepened the spring night. Such a night indeed it was as that on which, but one sunset ago, had Siegmund come to the house of Hunding-through the storms which day-long had lashed the hillsides; and now, even as then, the storm was hushed, and deep peace lay over the earth. Yet swiftly the finger of fate had written, and swift had been the accomplishment of that decree, for lover lay dead and husband also, while through the gloomy forest hurried Sieglinde eastwards, to shield that which lay within her from the wrath of Wotan. And she, Brunnhilde, that had befriended the lover and his beloved, lay very still at the feet of her father making a darkness for her eyes, for on her head had the wrath come, and stern and terrible was her punishment. For lightly had she recked of his godhead and his holy behest, and by the maiden of his will had his will been betrayed; thus she was will-maiden to him no longer, and should wayfarer hap on her, not maid but woman, for so had the word gone forth from Wotan's mouth. Long time then sat the god there motionless with the crouched figure of her he loved at his feet, but at the last she raised her head, and essayed to meet the eyes that met not hers, and slowly she spoke.

"Is in truth my fault so vile and shameful," said she, "that with so shameful a visitation thou must needs reward it? Time was when high on the sunlit cliff of godhead I stood with thee, and have I now by my sin cast myself down so utterly to the slime and horror of the nethermost pit, that viler phantoms than Hella ever knew must flap their wings of darkness round me? Surely it is not possible that in one moment I so put off all the worth that ever was mine, all which I had from thee, that a fate so unworthy fits me."