You’ll be to her no less a faithful friend,
A staff to lean on, and a help in need,
Than I can be— [Turning to Svanhild.
Why, good, my offer’s nought;
Cancel it from the tables of your thought.
Then it is I who triumph in very deed;
You’re happy, and for nothing else I fought.
[To Falk.
And, apropos—just now you spoke of cash,
Trust me, ’tis little more than tinsell’d trash.