The air weighed hot on my brow and breast;
For Gudmund, he was not there.
[She draws a deep breath.
Out here ’tis better: here’s quiet and rest.
How sweet is the cool night air!
[A brooding silence.
That horrible thought! Oh, why should it be
That wherever I go it follows me?
The phial—doth a secret draught contain;
A drop of this in my—enemy’s cup,