MAIA.

There, you see.  With a little goodwill—–­

ULFHEIM.

—­but just you try if you dare go that way.

MAIA.

[Doubtfully.] Do you think I can’t?

ULFHEIM.

Never in this world—­if you don’t let me help you.

MAIA.

[Uneasily.] Why, then come and help me!  What else are you here for?

ULFHEIM.

Would you rather I should take you on my back—–?

MAIA.

Nonsense!

ULFHEIM.

—­or carry you in my arms?

MAIA.

Now do stop talking that rubbish!

ULFHEIM.

[With suppressed exasperation.] I once took a young girl—­lifted her up from the mire of the streets and carried her in my arms.  Next my heart I carried her.  So I would have borne her all through life—­ lest haply she should dash her foot against a stone.  For her shoes were worn very thin when I found her—–­

MAIA.

And yet you took her up and carried her next your heart?

ULFHEIM.

Took her up out of the gutter and carried her as high and as carefully as I could. [With a growling laugh.] And do you know what I got for my reward?

MAIA.

No.  What did you get?

ULFHEIM.

[Looks at her, smiles and nods.] I got the horns!  The horns that you can see so plainly.  Is not that a comical story, madam bear-murderess?

MAIA.

Oh yes, comical enough!  But I know another story that is still more comical.

ULFHEIM.

How does that story go?

MAIA.

This is how it goes.  There was once a stupid girl, who had both a father and a mother—­but a rather poverty-stricken home.  Then there came a high and mighty seigneur into the midst of all this poverty.  And he took the girl in his arms—­as you did—­and travelled far, far away with her—–­

ULFHEIM.

Was she so anxious to be with him?

MAIA.

Yes, for she was stupid, you see.