Hast thou tried both, That thus thou canst compare them? KRIEMHILD. I'd not bear The heat of battle. BRUNHILDA. Then thou shouldst not try To judge of it!--No insult I intend. Nay, do not draw thy hand away from mine! It may be so, and yet I thought this joy Were but for me alone. KRIEMHILD. What dost thou mean? BRUNHILDA. Surely no woman can rejoice to see Her husband conquered. KRIEMHILD. Never! BRUNHILDA. Nor deceive Herself if in the fray he's not unhorsed, Because his conqueror spares him. KRIEMHILD. Surely not. BRUNHILDA. What then! KRIEMHILD. But I am quite secure from that? Thou smilest? BRUNHILDA. Over-confident art thou. KRIEMHILD. It is my right! BRUNHILDA. It may not come to proof, And even a dream is sweet--so slumber on, And I will never wake thee. KRIEMHILD. What say'st thou? My noble husband is too gentle far To grieve the rulers of his royal realm, Else had he made a sceptre long ago Of his good sword and held it forth so far That its great shadow covered all the earth. For all the lands are subject unto him, And should but one deny it, I would ask That land from him to make a flower bed. BRUNHILDA. Kriemhild, what then would be my husband's place? KRIEMHILD. He is my brother, and the standard's his Whereby one weighs all others. None weighs him. BRUNHILDA. No, for he is the standard of the world! And as 'tis gold decides the worth of things, So he the worth of heroes and of knights. Thou must not contradict me, dearest child, And in return I'll listen patiently If thou wilt only teach me how to sew. KRIEMHILD. Brunhilda! BRUNHILDA. Nay, I did not speak in scorn; I long to sew, and needle-work is not My birthright like the throwing of the lance, For which I never sought a master's aid, More than I needed aid to stand or walk. KRIEMHILD. If 'tis thy wish, we can begin at once; And since thou best enjoyest making wounds We'll take the bodkin for embroidery. I have a pattern!-- [_She is about to show the girdle._] No, I have it not. BRUNHILDA. Thou lookest on thy sister coldly now. But 'tis not friendly to withdraw thy hand From my fond clasp before I give it up-- At least our custom is the contrary. And canst thou not be reconciled to know The sceptre of thy dreams is given now Into thy brother's hands? Thou art his sister, And that should comfort thee. A brother's fame Is half thine own, so thou shouldst yield to me, Before all other women, honor's crown That once for all could never have been thine, For no one could have paid for it as I. KRIEMHILD. 'Tis thus perverted nature takes revenge. Thou didst resist love's rule as no one else, And now this blindness is thy penalty. BRUNHILDA.