. "Nay, why should we weep?
Together let us be merry, for we know the worst. All words are said--all
hopes are sped! Let us be merry, then, for now we have no more tidings
to fear."

"Ay," Swanhild answered, looking on him darkly, "we will be merry and
laugh our sorrows down. Ah! thou foolish Eric, under what unlucky star
wast thou born that thou knewest not true from false?" and she called
the serving-women, bidding them bring food and wine.

Now Eric sat alone with Swanhild in her bower and made pretence to eat.
But he could eat little, though he drank deep of the southern wine.
Close beside him sat Swanhild, filling his cup. She was wondrous fair
that night, and it seemed to Eric that her eyes gleamed like stars.
Sweetly she spoke also and wisely. She told strange tales and she sang
strange songs, and ever her eyes shone more and more, and ever she crept
closer to him. Eric's brain was afire, though his heart was cold and
dead. He laughed loud and mightily, he told great tales of deeds that he
had done, growing boastful in his folly, and still Swanhild's eyes shone
more and more, and still she crept closer, wooing him in many ways.

Now of a sudden Eric thought of his friend, Earl Atli, and his mind grew
clear.

"This may not be, Swanhild," he said. "Yet I would that I had loved thee
from the first, and not the false Gudruda: for, with all thy dark ways,
at least thou art better than she."

"Thou speakest wisely, Eric," Swanhild answered, though she meant not
that he should go. "The Norns have appointed us an evil fate, giving
me as wife to an old man whom I do not love, and thee for a lover to a
woman who has betrayed thee. Ah, Eric Brighteyes, thou foolish Eric! why
knewest thou not the false from the true while yet there was time?
Now are all words said and all things done--nor can they be undone. Go
hence, Eric, ere ill come of it; but, before thou goest, drink one cup
of parting, and then farewell."

And she slipped from him and filled the cup, mixing in it a certain
love-portion that she had made ready.

"Give it me that I may swear an oath on it," said Eric.

Swanhild gave him the cup and stood before him, watching him.

"Hearken," he said: "I swear this, that before snow falls again in
Iceland I will see Ospakar dead at my feet or lie dead at the feet of
Ospakar."

"Well spoken, Eric," Swanhild answered. "Now, before thou drinkest,
grant me one little boon. It is but a woman's fancy, and thou cans