And behold, it was Sigmund the Volsung:  but she cried and had no fear: 

  “If thou art living, Sigmund, what day’s work dost thou here
  In the midnight and the forest? but if thou art nought but a ghost
  Then where are those Volsung brethren, of whom thou wert best and most?”

  Then he turned about unto her, and his raiment was fouled and torn,
  And his eyen were great and hollow, as a famished man forlorn;

  But he cried:  “Hail, Sister Signy!  I looked for thee before,
  Though what should a woman compass, she one alone and no more,
  When all we shielded Volsungs did nought in Siggeir’s land? 
  O yea, I am living indeed, and this labour of mine hand
  Is to bury the bones of the Volsungs; and lo, it is well-nigh done. 
  So draw near, Volsung’s daughter, and pile we many a stone
  Where lie the grey wolf’s gleanings of what was once so good.”

  So she set her hand to the labour, and they toiled, they twain in the wood,
  And when the work was over, dead night was beginning to fall: 
  Then spake the white-hand Signy:  “Now shall thou tell the tale
  Of the death of the Volsung brethren ere the wood thy wrath shall hide,
  Ere I wend me back sick-hearted in the dwelling of kings to abide.”

Then said Sigmund: 

“We lay fettered to the tree and at midnight there came from the thicket two mighty wood-wolves, and falling on my brethren Gylfi and Geirmund, they devoured them in their bonds, and turned again to the forest.  Night after night, my sister, this befell, till I was left alone with our brother Sigi to await the wood-beasts.  Then came midnight, and one of the wolves fell upon Sigi and the other turned on me.  But I met it with snarling like its own, and my teeth gripped its throat, and my hands strove with the fetters till they burst.  So I slew the beast with my irons, but when I looked, Sigi lay dead, and the other wolf had fled again to the thicket.  Then I lay hid till Siggeir’s woodmen had looked on the place and departed with their tidings, and as I beheld them I knew that pity was killed in my heart, and that henceforward I should live but to avenge me on him who hath so set the gods at nought.”  Then Signy spake noble words of comfort, saying:  “I wot well that Siggeir shall pay the due price of his deeds, though the vengeance may tarry long, and I wot also that thy life shall yet know gladness.  Bear a stout heart, therefore, to meet the waiting time, and make thee a lair in the woods whence thou mayest fall on men of the Goth-folk, and win what thy life needeth.  As for me, I will see thy face once again ere many days are past to wot where thou dwellest and then must we meet no more.”

And so saying, she kissed him and departed, but Sigmund turned in the dawn-light, and sought a wood-lair as she had bidden him.

Of the fostering of Sinfiotli, Signy’s son, and of the slaying of Siggeir the Goth-king.