FALK [in passionate agitation].
No,--but eye for eye,
Svanhild, and tooth for tooth. Now you'll attend
No further greetings from your garden-friend,
No guerdon from the land of melody.
That is my vengeance: as you slew I slay.

SVANHILD.
I slew?

FALK.
You slew. Until this very day,
A clear-voiced song-bird warbled in my soul;
See,--now one passing bell for both may toll--
You've killed it!

SVANHILD.
Have I?

FALK.
Yes, for you have slain
My young, high-hearted, joyous exultation--
[Contemptuously.
By your betrothal!

SVANHILD.
How! But pray explain--!

FALK.
O, it's in full accord with expectation;