Something stirred rebelliously within me; I ceased weeping, and said:
"It is unjust, unfair: What right had Swanhilda to live? Did not God
give her up to us? How much better was he than ten Swanhildas?

And look you -- See! He is DEAD."

Now this I shrieked out, being mad; and though I trembled when I saw
some stormy wrath that vexed her very heart and loving lips, gathering
on her face, I yet sat there looking at her and screaming, screaming,
till all the place rang.

But when growing hoarse and breathless I ceased; she said, with
straitened brow and scornful mouth: "So! Bravely done! Must I then,
though I am a woman, call you a liar, for saying God is unjust? You to
punish her, had not God then punished her already? How many times when
she woke in the dead night do you suppose she missed seeing King
Urrayne's pale face and hacked head lying on the pillow by her side?
Whether by night or day, what things but screams did she hear when the
wind blew loud round about the Palace corners? And did not that face
too, often come before her, pale and bleeding as it was long ago, and
gaze at her from unhappy eyes! Poor eyesi With changed purpose in
them- no more hope of converting the world when that blow was once
struck, truly it was very wicked-no more dreams, but only fierce
struggles with the Devil for very life, no more dreams but failure at
last, and death, happier so in the Hollow Land."

She grew so pitying as she gazed at his dead face that I began to weep
again unreasonably, while she saw not that I was weeping, but looked
only on Arnald's face, but after turned on me frowning. "Unjust! Yes,
truly unjust enough to take away life and all hope from her; you have