BRUNHILDA. Of precious stones there is with us no lack-- Though never white or black ones; yet my hands Have taught me white, and raven is my hair.

KRIEMHILD. Thou canst not know of fragrance!

[_She plucks a violet for her_.]

BRUNHILDA.

Oh how sweet!

And is't that tiny flower that breathes it forth-- The only one my eye did not observe?

I'd love to give the flower a pretty name-- But surely it is named.

KRIEMHILD.

The little flower Is lowlier than all, and none thy foot More easily had crushed, for it appears To be ashamed that it is more than gra.s.s, And so it hides its head; but yet it drew A gentle word from thee, the first we've heard.

So let it be a token that within Our land is much that's hidden from thy gaze That will delight thee.

BRUNHILDA.

That I hope indeed-- For I need joy! Thou know'st not what it is To be a woman, yet to overcome A man in every combat and to gain His strength that ebbs away as flows his blood, And from the steaming blood breathe in new force-- To feel yourself grow stronger, braver yet, And then, when victory is surer still--

[_Turning suddenly_]

Frigga, I ask again! What did I see-- Before that latest contest, what said I?

FRIGGA.

It seemed thy spirit must have seen this land.

BRUNHILDA.

This land!

FRIGGA.

Thou didst rejoice.

BRUNHILDA.

And I rejoiced!-- Thine eyes, however, flamed.

FRIGGA.

Because I saw Thy happiness.

BRUNHILDA.

These warriors looked to me As white as snow.

FRIGGA.

They had been ever so.

BRUNHILDA.

Wherefore didst thou conceal the dream so long?

FRIGGA.

It is but now that it is clear to me, Now that I can compare.

BRUNHILDA.

If I rejoiced When my prophetic vision saw this land, I must rejoice again.

FRIGGA.

Thou surely shalt!

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIEGFRIED'S RETURN FROM THE SAXON WAR _From the Painting by Schnorr von Carolsfeld_]

BRUNHILDA.

And yet it seems to me the vision dealt With stars and metals too.

FRIGGA.

Yes, that is so.

Thou said'st the stars gleamed still more brightly here.

But yet that gold and silver were but dull.

BRUNHILDA.

Was't so?

FRIGGA (_to_ HAGEN).

Is't not the truth?

HAGEN.

I paid no heed.

BRUNHILDA.

I beg you all to treat me as a child; Though I shall grow up faster than another.

Yet now I am no better.

(_To_ FRIGGA.)