Gazing at Sieglinde as if fascinated by some celestial vision,
Siegmund, in answer to her questions, informs her that he is an
unhappy wight, whose footsteps misfortune constantly dogs. He
then goes on to inform her that even now he has escaped from
his enemies with nothing but his life, and makes a movement
to leave her for fear lest he should bring ill-luck upon her
too. Sieglinde, however, implores him to remain and await the
return of her husband. Almost as she speaks Hunding enters
the house, and, allowing her to divest him of his weapons,
seems dumbly to inquire the reason of the stranger's presence
at his hearth.

Sieglinde rapidly explains how she found him faint and weary
before the fire, and Hunding, mindful of the laws of hospitality,
bids the stranger welcome, and invites him to partake of the
food which Sieglinde now sets before them. As Siegmund takes
his place at the rude board, Hunding first becomes aware
of the strange resemblance he bears to his wife, and after
commenting upon it _sotto voce_, he inquires his guest's name and
antecedents. Siegmund then mournfully relates his happy youth,
the tragic loss of his mother and sister, his roaming life
with his father, and the latter's mysterious disappearance.
Only then does Hunding recognize in him the foe whom he has
long been seeking to slay.

Unconscious of all this, Siegmund goes on to relate how on that
very day he had fought single-handed against countless foes to
defend a helpless maiden, running away only when his weapons had
failed him and the maiden had been slain at his feet. Sieglinde
listens breathless to the story of his sad life and of his brave