Ay, ay, well I know what thoughts thou hast of me.
Hiördis.
[Bitterly.] I do thee wrong mayhap! Nay, nay, Sigurd, thou hast been as a poison to all my days. Bethink thee who it was that wrought that shameful guile; who it was that sat by my side in the bower, feigning love, with the laugh of cunning in his heart; who it was that flung me forth to Gunnar, since for him I was good enough, forsooth—and then sailed away with the woman he held dear!
Sigurd.
Man’s will can do this thing and that; but fate rules in the deeds that shape our lives—so has it gone with us twain.
Hiördis.
True enough; evil Norns hold sway over the world; but their might is little if they find not helpers in our own heart. Happy is he who has strength to battle with the Norn—and it is that I have now in hand.
Sigurd.
What mean’st thou?
Hiördis.