BRUNHILDA.
Then thou art mad!
Perchance thou fear'st that we shall be too harsh
With all the vassals? Yet thou need'st not fear!
I plant no flower beds in conquered lands,
And only once will I claim precedence
If thou art not too proud and obstinate,—
Here at the church today and nevermore.
KRIEMHILD.
Indeed I'd never have denied it thee,
But, since my husband's honor is at stake,
I will not yield one step.
BRUNHILDA.
He will command
That thou shalt yield.
KRIEMHILD.
How dare'st thou scorn him so!
BRUNHILDA.
He made way for thy brother in my hall,
As vassals for their lord, and he refused
My proffered greeting!—That did not seem strange
While I still thought him—as he called himself—
A serving-man, a messenger to me.
But now it all seems changed.