ld bald woman who is no use at last.
These bleachy-threads, these tufts of death's first combing,
And loosening heartstrings twisted up together
Would not make half a bowstring. Son, forgive me....

GUNNAR
A grasping woman's gold upon her head
Is made for hoarding, like all other gold:
A spendthrift woman's gold upon her head
Is made for spending on herself. Let be--
She goes her heart's way, and I go to earth.

(AUNUND'S _head rises above the wall near_ GUNNAR.)

What, are you there?

AUNUND
Yea, Gunnar, we are here.

GUNNAR (_thrusting with the bill_)
Then bide you there.

(AUNUND'S _head sinks_; THORGEIR'S _rises in the same place._)

How many heads have you?

THORGEIR
But half as many as the feet we grow on.

GUNNAR
And I've not yet used up (_thrusting again_) all my hands.

(_As he thrusts another man rises a little farther back, and leaps
past him into the loft. Others follow, and GUNNAR is soon
surrounded by many armed men, so that only the rising and falling
of his bill is seen._)

The threshing-floor is full.... Up, up, brain-biter!
We work too late to-night--up, open the husks.
Oh, smite and pulse
On their anvil heads:
The smithy is full,
There are shoes to be made
For the hoofs of the steeds
Of the Valkyr girls....

FIRST MAN
Hack through the shaft....

SECOND MAN
Receive the blade
In the breast of a shield,
And wrench it round....

GUNNAR
For the hoofs of the steeds
Of the Valkyr girls
Who race up the night
To be first at our feast,
First in the play
With immortal spears
In deadly holes....

THIRD MAN
Try at his back....

MANY VOICES (_shouting in confusion_)
Have him down.... Heels on the bill.... Ahui, ahui....

(_The bill does not rise._)

HROALD (_with the breaking voice of a young man, high over all_)
Father.... It is my blow.... It is I who kill him.

(_The crowd parts, suddenly silent, showing_ GUNNAR _fallen._
RANNVEIG _covers her face