[A light shines in his face; he cries:]
My mother; my wife; oh, thou innocent woman!—
In thy love—oh, there hide me, hide me!
[Clings to her end hides his face in her lap. A long silence. The sun rises.
Solveig.
[Sings softly.]
Sleep thou, dearest boy of mine!
I will cradle thee, I will watch thee——
The boy has been sitting on his mother’s lap.
They two have been playing all the life-day long.