Pausing and sending the lantern crashing on the hearth with both hands.
He shall not have it!
She stands with her hands gripping her breasts, leaning forward toward the open door; her breathlessness is all that is heard; she stretches her arms to the night.
Blanid.
I feel as if my long, long hands could reach
Down to the water's heart to pluck him from it.
The Voice.
Will no one ever come?
Hialti, out of doors. I come; I am nigh.
Blanid.
Ay, he is nigh; but soon he will be far.
I dare not thus fall through the world for him.
O, I shall hear him ... do not let me hear him ...
She throws herself on her face on the floor and, covering her head with the strewn rushes and clasping her hands over them, lies there moaning.
Hialti, far off, shouting ever more madly.
Thorgerd, Thorgerd ... your hands ... the world slips past me ...
Save ... under ... under ... under ...
Aa-h ...
The shouting ceases suddenly at its height.
Blanid, muffled and choking.
Her name ... her name ... why did he not think my name? ...
But she has lost him, and I kissed his hand ...
Thorgerd, rushing from the sleeping-chamber in her night-gear.
Where is the wench?... Make haste—another light:
I heard him dying. O, this prater's breath
Will blow his life out ... Kindle a light and come ...
The Voice.
Ohey! Ohohey! Ohey!
Blanid.
Nay! Nay! Nay! I dare not, I dare not ...
That Crier will drown me too ...
Thorgerd. That is nought to me;
Get to your feet ... What, shall I seek a way
To supple you?
Blanid. O, do not hurt me again ...
He dies ... it is my deed ... I dare not come ...
Thorgerd.
You are too mean to stir his life one thought;
It was the Crafty Crier—I heard that wail ...