Norna. Young man, grieve not; it is too late to save, but there is left to thee a better thing than grief.
Louis. Oh, what?
Norna. Revenge!
Louis. Thou art right. I'll weep no more. Give me thine aid, O mighty wizard, and I will serve thee well.
Norna. Who art thou? The poor lady's lover?
Louis. Ah, no; far nearer and far deeper was the love I bore her, for I am her brother.
Norna. Ha, that's well! Thou wilt join me, for I have made a vow to rest not till that proud, sinful lord hath well atoned for this deep crime. Spirits shall haunt him, and the darkest phantoms that my art can raise shall scare his soul. Wilt thou join me in my work?
Louis. I will,—but stay! thou hast spoken of spirits. Dread sorceress, is it in thy power to call them up?
Norna. It is. Wilt see my skill. Stand back while I call up a phantom which thou canst not doubt.
[Louis retires within the cave. Norna weaves a spell above her caldron.