KRIEMHILD. Surely not.
BRUNHILDA. What then!
KRIEMHILD. But I am quite secure from that?
Thou smilest?
BRUNHILDA. Over-confident art thou.
KRIEMHILD. It is my right!
BRUNHILDA. It may not come to proof,
And even a dream is sweet—so slumber on,
And I will never wake thee.
KRIEMHILD. What say'st thou?
My noble husband is too gentle far
To grieve the rulers of his royal realm,
Else had he made a sceptre long ago
Of his good sword and held it forth so far
That its great shadow covered all the earth.
For all the lands are subject unto him,
And should but one deny it, I would ask
That land from him to make a flower bed.
BRUNHILDA.
Kriemhild, what then would be my husband's place?
KRIEMHILD.
He is my brother, and the standard's his
Whereby one weighs all others. None weighs him.