The fire is now wholly out, so that the cottage is absolutely dark and nothing is visible.
The Voice, near at hand.
Ohohey! Ohey!
Thorgerd, fiercely.
Where are you?... O, the Crier is heaving o'er ...
A gust of wind and rain is heard to sweep into the cottage through the open doorway, shifting the rustling floor-rushes as though feet touched them. The Old Strange Man has entered.
Blanid, being heard to start to her feet.
There is another breathing in the house ...
He is here ... this darkness is not black enough,
The darkness at light's core alone could hide me ...
Grope for my hand—hold fast and take me home ...
She is heard to sink to the floor again.
The Old Strange Man.
Sister of that old race dead in the hills,
Why will you make me come to you once more?
You know you must go down a long withdrawing
To reach the unlit places of your heart,
Which are the night within my unknown eyes
Beyond all stars; so let me touch you once.
Blanid is heard to drag her prostrate body through the rushes toward Thorgerd.
Blanid.
Mistress, I am your thrall; you will keep your own ...
I clasp your feet, I kiss your clutching feet,
I lick your feet all over with my tongue,
I will tell you somewhat that will yield a vengeance
For you to work; so do not let me go....
The Old Man.
I see you, you white terror with shaking flanks,
Straining to feel me with your hard-shut eyes,
But now I need you not; not yet; not yet.
Your man is drowned and this is it who bargained
Its death for his; will you not give it to me?
Thorgerd, laughing.
I am glad he is dead; now I may only love him,
And know no more that last distress of stooping
So far from me as this at my feet must be.
No vengeancing could pay for thoughts of her:
I will not know that such can be in life,
So I will neither yield nor succour her.
She speaks no more, nor moves.
The Old Man.
Give it to me; it is mine, give it to me;
I cannot take it while it touches you.