defence of helpless virtue, while Hunding suddenly declares that,
were it not that the sacred rights of hospitality restrained him,
he would then and there slay the man who had made so many of his
kinsmen bite the dust. He however contents himself with making
an appointment for a hostile encounter early on the morrow,
promising to supply Siegmund with a good sword, since he has
no weapons of his own:--

'My doors ward thee,
Wölfing, to-day;
Till the dawn shelter they show;
A flawless sword
Will befit thee at sunrise,
By day be ready for fight,
And pay thy debt for the dead.'

Then Hunding angrily withdraws with his wife, taking his weapons
with him, and muttering dark threats, which fill his guest's
heart with nameless fear. Left alone, Siegmund bitterly mourns
his lack of weapons, for he fears lest he may be treacherously
attacked by his foe, and in his sorrow he reproaches his father,
who had repeatedly told him that he would find a sword ready
to his hand in case of direst need.

'A sword,--so promised my father--
In sorest need I should find--
Weaponless falling
In the house of the foe,
Here in pledge
To his wrath I am held.'