A young woman, attracted by the noise, appears, and bends over the stranger with compassionate surprise. Then, to revive him, she offers him a horn of mead. Sigmund raises his eyes toward her; their glances meet and remain fixed upon one another with an emotion rich with trouble. But the young man suddenly raises himself. "Farewell! farewell!" he cries, "I bear misfortune everywhere with me, let it at least be kept far from thee." "Ah! remain," she replies, quickly, "misfortune can do nothing where despair already reigns," and while once more they contemplate each other in silence, overcome by growing emotion, Hunding, the stern husband, the savage warrior, his helmet bristling with curious ornaments, shows himself on the threshold. "It is a guest, worn out with fatigue, who demands shelter," says Siglinda, answering her husband's look of inquiry. "Hospitality is sacred to me," says Hunding to the unknown; "may my house be sacred to thee," and with a gesture he orders the repast. Sigmund then relates from whence he is come. Vanquished in a combat with a neighboring chief, stripped of his arms, he was obliged to flee through the tempest. "Thou makest light of misfortune," cries Hunding; "the chief whom thou hast just named is my ally; thus hast thou chanced upon thy own mortal enemy. I accord thee shelter beneath my roof, however, until morning; afterward, out of my house, and let us meet in combat." And Hunding retires with a sombre mien, dragging with him Siglinda, who casts a despairing glance at the unfortunate guest. Sigmund, spent with fatigue, falls again by the fireside, insensible. Where may he find strength with which to defend himself? Who will come to his aid in this bitter distress? Siglinda reappears. She has poured out the juices of a sleep-making plant for her husband. The stranger will be saved, provided he can wrench from the tree's trunk a marvellous sword, which an old man once thrust into it. Truly the sword is destined for Sigmund, for it yields at his first effort. Behold, it glistens in his hand. Henceforward he fears nothing. He will be able to defend the beloved woman, whom now he recognizes. Is she not his twin sister, formerly carried off from the devastated fireside? He will find her again, and wrest her from the enemy. "My love! my sister!" he cries, passionately. And folding her in his arms, he bears her from the sad dwelling through the moonlit forest.