Sigurd.
Thou canst not think to deal thus with thyself.
Örnulf.
Dost marvel that I fain would rest? My day’s work is done; I have laid my sons in their grave-mound. [Vehemently.] Go from me!—Go, go!
[He hides his face.
Sigurd.
[Softly, to Dagny, who rises.] Let him sit yet awhile.
Dagny.
Nay, I have one rede yet untried;—I know him. [To Örnulf.] Thy day’s work done, say’st thou? Nay, that it is not. Thou hast laid thy sons in the grave;—but art thou not a skald? It is meet that thou should’st sing their memory.
Örnulf.