Eugenia softly repeated the words: "Woe betide the widow who accepts consolation! She never knew love, for love is eternal. Woe to the wife who has lost her husband! Her heart is desolate; why should she live on?" "'Helgi towered above all other heroes, as the ash towers above thorns and thistles. For the widow there remains but one spot on earth--her husband's grave. Sigrun will no longer find pleasure in this world, unless perchance a light should burst from the doors of his tomb, and I might again embrace him.' "And so mighty, so all-constraining is the longing of the true widow, that it will even break the power of death. In the evening a maid-servant came running to Sigrun, saying: 'Hasten forth, if you wish to have your husband again. Look! the mound has opened; a light is streaming from it; your longing has brought the hero from the heaven of the god of victory; he is sitting in the mound and beseeches you to stanch his bleeding wounds.'" Eugenia, in a low, trembling voice, repeated: "The longing of the true widow will even break the power of death." "Sigrun went in to Helgi, kissed him, stanched his wounds, and said: 'Your locks are drenched with moisture; you are covered with blood; your hands are cold--how shall I keep you?' 'You are the sole cause,' he replied. 'You shed so many tears, and each fell a blood-stain upon Helgi's breast.' 'Then I will weep no more,' she cried; 'but will rest upon your heart, as I did in life.' 'You will remain in the mound with me, in the arms of the dead, though you still live,' cried Helgi, exultingly. "You will remain in the mound, in the arms of the dead, though you still live," Eugenia repeated. "But the legend relates that when Sigrun also died, both were born again: he a victorious hero, but she a Valkyrie. This is the ballad of how a woman's true love, a widow's true anguish, conquers death, and, in omnipotent yearning, even forces a passage into the grave to the beloved one." "And in omnipotent yearning forces a passage into the grave to the beloved one." Hilda looked up suddenly. "Child, what is the matter?" The Princess had spoken with such enthusiasm that at last she paid no heed to her listener. But now she heard a low sob, and, in bewilderment, saw the Greek kneeling on the floor, bending forward over the stool, hiding her lovely face in both hands; tears were streaming between the slender fingers. "Eugenia!" "O Hilda, it is so beautiful. It must be so blissful to be loved! And it is also happiness to love unto death. Oh, happy Gibamund's Hilda! Oh, happy Helgi's Sigrun! How this song makes the heart ache and yet rejoice! How beautiful and, alas, how true it is, that love conquers all things, and draws the loving woman to her beloved, even to his grave! They are united in death, if no longer in life. That thought possesses stronger power than spell or magnet."