[Smiling.] Dost think so?
Gunnar.
I know it!
Hiördis.
[Hands him the bow-string.] Tell me, Gunnar—canst loose this knot?
Gunnar.
[Tries it.] Nay, it is too cunningly and firmly woven.
Hiördis.
[Rising.] The Norns[[14]] weave yet more cunningly; their web is still harder to unravel.
Gunnar.