Rudolph—There, Fritz, is where the whole great purpose turns.
Fritz—Eh?
Rudolph—Prophesy, you see, walks in the air.
No man can say on whom it will lay its hand.
Fritz—Why?
Rudolph—Would not Oswald's seed be Wittikind's?
Do you not see that some child still unborn,
The issue of Oswald's loins, may be the one
To take the sword that Woden will hand down?
Meanwhile, suppose the Christians hear of this.
Their spies are all about us.
(Dropping his voice and pointing to the bridge.)
Who knows?
Fritz—(After looking under it.) No.
Rudolph—Suppose they once get rumor of it. Then
Suppose they torture Wiglaf for the rest.
Will not a thousand trumpets sound the chase?
Will they not beat the forest through and through,
Set fire to it, and when the stag appears
Shall breed the fawn shall grow the golden horns—
(As though drawing back a bow-string and letting spring the arrow.)