The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Ix Part 38

SIEGFRIED (_about to embrace her_).

But may I thank thee so?

KRIEMHILD (_draws back_).

Dost think that I invite thee?

SIEGFRIED.

 

With words then For thy words! No, for sweeter yet than words, Thy murmuring of tender secret things My ear finds precious, as my lips thy kiss.

I thank thee for thy secret gazing forth To see us throwing weights to win the prize.

Oh, had I dreamed of it! And for thy scorn And mockery--

KRIEMHILD.

A maiden's pride to soothe For tarrying, thou thinkest? Cruel friend!

I told thee in the dark! But wilt thou see My blushes now when in the light of day Thou tellest me the tale? My foolish blood Flushes and pales so fast, my mother says That I am like a rose-bush that sends forth Red buds and white upon a single stem-- Else hadst thou never found my secret out.

For I could feel the burning of my cheeks, When yestermorn my brother teased me so.

I saw no way but to confess to thee.

SIEGFRIED.

Then may he start the n.o.blest stag today!

KRIEMHILD.

And may he miss him! Yes, I wish it too.-- see thou art just like my uncle, Hagen, Who, if one lays a garment by his bed, That one has made in secret, will not heed Unless perchance it is too tight.

SIEGFRIED.

And why?

KRIEMHILD.

Thou only see'st G.o.d's and nature's gifts In all that's mine, but my own handiwork, The raiment that adorns me, thou see'st not-- Not even the fair girdle that I wear.

SIEGFRIED.

The girdle's gay, and yet I'd rather wind About thy waist the rainbow's lovely hue; Methinks that ye would suit each other well.

KRIEMHILD.

But bring it me at night and I will change, Yet do not throw it down like this I wear.

'Tis but by chance I did not lose thy gift.

SIEGFRIED.

What sayest thou?

KRIEMHILD.

But for the precious stones, It might be underneath the table still, But fire is a thing one cannot hide.

SIEGFRIED.

Is that my gift?

KRIEMHILD.

It is.

SIEGFRIED.

But thou art dreaming!

KRIEMHILD.

I found it in the room.

SIEGFRIED.

It is thy mother's!

She must have let it fall.

KRIEMHILD.

It is not hers!

For well I know her ornaments. I thought It had been taken from the Niblung's h.o.a.rd; To give thee joy I put it on at once.

SIEGFRIED.

I thank thee, but the girdle I know not!

KRIEMHILD (_takes the girdle off_).

Then for my golden girdle make thou room Which thou concealest! I was all attired, And only put it on to honor thee, My mother also, for this golden one She gave to me.

SIEGFRIED.

But that is very strange!-- 'Twas lying on the floor?

KRIEMHILD.

It was.

SIEGFRIED.

And crumpled?