SIGURD. I thank thee; but let it hang.—Who knows if next evening
I may have any use for it.
GUNNAR (shakes his hand). Farewell, Sigurd!
SIGURD. Again farewell, and fortune befriend thee this night!
(They part. GUNNAR goes out to the right. SIGURD casts a glance at HIORDIS, and goes out by the back.)
HIORDIS (after a pause, softly and thoughtfully). To-morrow they fight! Which will fall? (After a moment's silence, she bursts forth as if seized by a strong resolution.) Let fall who will—Sigurd and I shall still be together!
ACT FOURTH.
(By the coast. It is evening; the moon breaks forth now and again,
from among dark and ragged storm-clouds. At the back, a black
grave-mound, newly heaped up.)
(ORNULF sits on a stone, in front on the right, his head bare, his
elbows resting on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. His
men are digging at the mound; some give light with pine-knot torches.
After a short pause, SIGURD and DAGNY enter from the boat-house,
where a wood fire is burning.)
DAGNY (in a low voice). There sits he still. (Holding SIGURD back.)
Nay, speak not to him!
SIGURD. Thou say'st well; it is too soon; best leave him!
DAGNY (goes over to the right, and gazes at her father in quiet sorrow). So strong was he yesterday when he bore Thorolf's body on his back; strong was he as he helped to heap the grave-mound; but when they were all laid to rest, and earth and stones piled over them—then the sorrow seized him; then seemed it of a sudden as though his fire were quenched. (Dries her tears.) Tell me, Sigurd, when thinkest thou to fare homeward to Iceland?