: to govern. _Wehwalt_: lord
of sorrows.) There is no further exchange of words while they wait,
but in complete unashamed absorption they gaze at each other, and
the music tells beautifully how it is within their hearts. Hunding's
horn is heard. (_Hund:_ hound. It was, as we learn later, this
amiable personage's custom to hunt his enemies with a pack of dogs.)
Startled from her trance, Sieglinde listens, and hastens to open.
Hunding appears in the doorway, a dark figure, in helmet, shield
and spear. At sight of the stranger, he questions his wife with a
look. "I found the man on the hearth, spent with weariness. Necessity
brings him to our house," she explains. There is some sternness
apparently in Hunding's tone as he inquires: "Have you offered him
refreshment?" for Siegmund, rash and instantaneous in the woman's
defence, speaks, hard on the heels of her answer: "I have to thank
her for shelter and drink. Will you therefor chide your wife?"
But Hunding, at his best in this moment, without retort welcomes
the guest: "Sacred is my hearth, sacred to you be my house!" and
orders his wife to set forth food for them. Catching Sieglinde's
eyes unconsciously fixed upon Siegmund, he glances quickly from
one to the other, and is struck by the resemblance between them;
but the luminous look they have in common he defines, with the
constitutional dislike of his kind to that freer, more generous
type: "The selfsame glittering serpent shines out of his eyes!" He
inquires of the circumstances which have brought this stranger to
his house, and finding that Siegmund has no idea whither his wild
flight has led him, introduces himself with a dignity which commends
to us, while he is doing it, the narrow-natured, unimaginative man:
"He whose roof covers you and whose house shelters you,--Hunding
your host is called. If you should from here turn your footsteps
eastward, there, in rich courts, dwell kinsmen, protectors of Hunding's
honour!" They seat themselves at table; the host asks for this
guest's name, and as Siegmund, plunged in thought, does not at
once reply, Hunding, remarking the interest with which his wife
waits for the stranger's words, sardonically encourages him: "If
you are in doubt about trusting me, yet give the information to
the lady here. See how eagerly she questions you!" And Sieglinde,
too deeply interested, verily, to mind the thrust, proceeds further
to give it point: "Guest, I should be glad to know who you are!