[In agony.] Slain—slain! My little Egil slain.
Hiördis.
[Wildly.] And thou—dost thou let him go? Let Egil, thy child, lie unavenged! Then wert thou the dastard of dastards——!
Gunnar.
[As if beside himself.] A sword—an axe! ’Tis the last tidings he shall ever bring!
[Seizes an axe from one of the bystanders and rushes out.
Sigurd.
[About to follow.] Gunnar, hold thy hand!
Hiördis.
[Holding him back.] Stay, stay! The men will part them; I know Gunnar!