“It comes into my mind that we two shall die here,” said Gudruda presently.
“Thinkest thou so?” he answered. “Well, I will say this, that I ask no better end.”
“It is a bad end for thee, Eric: to be choked in snow, and with all thy deeds to do.”
“It is a good end, Gudruda, to die at thy side, for so I shall die happy; but I grieve for thee.”
“Grieve not for me, Brighteyes, worse things might befall.”
He drew nearer to her, and now he put his arms about her and clasped her to his bosom; nor did she say him nay. Swanhild saw and lifted herself up behind them, but for a while she heard nothing but the beating of her heart.
“Listen, Gudruda,” Eric said at last. “Death draws near to us, and before it comes I would speak to thee, if speak I may.”
“Speak on,” she whispers from his breast.
“This I would say, then: that I love thee, and that I ask no better fate than to die in thy arms.”
“First shalt thou see me die in thine, Eric.”