HIORDIS. Ay, most like it is; for if I be a match for the Norn,
then sooner or later shalt thou and Gunnar---- (breaks off, leans
backwards against the table, and says with an altered ring in her
voice:) Hm; knowest thou what I sometimes dream? I have often made
it my pastime to limn pleasant pictures in my mind; I sit and close
my eyes and think: Now comes Sigurd the Strong to the isle;--he will
burn us in our house, me and my husband. All Gunnar's men have
fallen; only he and I are left; they set light to the roof from
without:--"A bow-shot," cries Gunnar, "one bow-shot may save us;"--
then the bow-string breaks--"Hiordis, cut a tress of thy hair and
make a bow-string of it,--our life is at stake." But then I laugh--
"Let it burn, let it burn--to me, life is not worth a handful of hair!"
SIGURD. There is a strange might in all thy speech. (Approaches her.)
HIORDIS (looks coldly at him). Wouldst sit beside me?
SIGURD. Thou deemest my heart is bitter towards thee. Hiordis, this
is the last time we shall have speech together; there is something
that gnaws me like a sore sickness, and thus I cannot part from thee;
thou must know me better.
HIORDIS. What wouldst thou?
SIGURD. Tell thee a saga.
HIORDIS. Is it sad?
SIGURD. Sad, as life itself.
HIORDIS (bitterly). What knowest thou of the sadness of life?
SIGURD.
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