"Olvir, Olvir!--my hero! What is this? Why do you speak so cruelly? Ah, do not shrink from me! I was mad--mad! Truly, I love you, Olvir! I will never love another. Take me back--into your heart!"
"You mistake, daughter of Rudulf," replied Olvir, a harder note in his lisping voice. "My heart held the image of a maiden pure and true; you have shattered that holy image. How can I hold love in my heart, when you have thrust in doubt? Love! You say you love me, when you could stand for an instant weighing my love against a queen's crown--love!"
His voice cut like a lash. The girl winced, and looked appealingly into his face. But she saw only contempt and anger. Then her own eyes hardened. The daughter of grey Rudulf and the Wend witch was not one to repay scorn with a smile. The very excess of her passion for the Northman served now to heighten her fury and hatred. As she turned upon him, her beautiful features were distorted with a look more startling than the wolfish visage of her father.
"Love!" she cried, half hissing the word. "You speak of love,--you, the heathen outlander! This stone beneath my feet knows more of love than you! Your blood is but ice,--salty ice! Take your ring, and begone!"
"Now do I see the werwolf!" muttered Olvir, and, flinging down Fastrada's ring, he trod his own into the ashes and turned away, proud and angry-eyed.
What hath wrought Sigurd Of any wrong-doing That the life of the famed one Thou art fain of taking? LAY OF BRYNHILD.
White with fury, Fastrada yet stood glaring at the spot where Olvir had disappeared, when she heard a firm tread on the other side. As she looked about, she caught a glimpse of Roland approaching through the coppice. Her first impulse was to spring away before the king's kinsman could come upon her. But almost at the first step she paused and turned again, with a smile of wolfish joy.
When Roland burst from the thicket, the girl came running to meet him, her silken dress torn, her hair capless and dishevelled, her face blotched with earth.
"Save me! Save me, lord count!" she gasped. "In the name of your mother, do not let him harm me!"
"What is it? Who would harm you?" demanded Roland, in amazement.
But the girl flung herself on the ground before him, sobbing and moaning, and for a while it seemed as though she could not speak. The sight of her at his feet stirred to the depths all the love and pity of the Frank's heart. He stooped and sought to lift her; but she shrank from his touch, and hid her face in her hands.