“At last he spoke: ‘By the laws of our fathers, mine is the right to sentence thee to banishment or death: but rather will I emulate in mildness that god whose sanctuary thou hast violated. Hearken then to my decree. Far to the westward lies a group of islands ruled by Augantyr. King Bele long ago did lay him under tribute, and this he faithfully remitted so long as our royal father was alive. Since Bele’s death he has refused it. Go thou and collect this tribute, as atonement for thy crime!’ “Then he added sneeringly: ‘’Tis said this Augantyr is hard-handed and sits brooding o’er his gold like Fafner, the famed dragon slain by Sigurd. But who could withstand our second Sigurd’s prowess? Truly this is far other work than seeking maids in Balder’s holy grove! Here till the Summer comes again we’ll wait for thy return, bringing fresh glory and—above all else—the tribute! But shouldst thou fail in this—thou shalt be doomed as coward, branded and banished forever from thy native land!’ “So ended his words; the assembly was dissolved, and the warriors dispersed in silence.” “But what is now thy purpose, Frithiof?” “Have I a choice? This very day I depart to redeem my honor.” “And leave me here?” “Nay, come with me, my Ingeborg!” “Alas! that may not be.” “Yet hear me, beloved, ere thou dost fix thy firm resolve. Thy brother in his wisdom forgets that Augantyr was once my father’s friend as well as Bele’s. Perchance he’ll yield with good-will what I ask; but should he not, this friend I carry at my side shall prove a sharp and powerful persuader. Then will I send to King Helge the gold he so desireth and free us both forever from the sacrificial knife of that crowned hypocrite; then we, my Ingeborg, will seek some distant happier land, and bid farewell to shores so hostile to our happiness. Look, my ‘Ellida’ doth already spread her eagle’s wings to bear us swiftly o’er the waves! Come, beloved, haste thee!” “Alas! alas! I cannot follow.” “What hinders thee, my Ingeborg? Were thy good father but alive, and did he—” “Forget not, Frithiof, that Helge holds my father’s place with me. The gods have blessed and woven these bonds, and a woman dare not break them to steal her happiness, however near it lies.” “Once more consider. Is this word thy last?” “Alas! dear Frithiof, I cannot, dare not do else, if I would maintain my honor and thy own.” “Then fare thee well, King Helge’s sister—fare thee well!” “O Frithiof, Frithiof, is it thus thou wouldst depart—without a glance, without a hand-clasp for thy childhood’s friend? Methinks one who is forced to sacrifice as much as I, doth well deserve at least a word of comfort. The stir of life and clash of arms will ease thy grief, but what remains for me? To whom, alas! may I impart my woe? Within my bower I’ll sit, thinking of thee and weaving broken lilies in my web, till Spring herself with fairer lilies shall adorn my grave.”