body; but, fast as I fled the hounds, (#62) my faintness has fled yet faster: (#64?:) though night had closed on my eyelids (:#64?), (#62 &/or 63?:) the sun smiles upon me anew (:#62 &/or 63?).
(Sieglinde goes to a storeroom, fills a horn with mead and offers it to Siegmund with friendly concern: #63)
Sieglinde: A sweetened draught (#63:) of honeyed mead you’ll not, I hope, disdain (:#63).
Siegmund: (#63) Will you not taste it first?
(Sieglinde sips from the horn and hands it back to him. #63 on clarinet & horns; #40 or #64b vari on clarinet?: Siegmund takes a long draught, while fixing his eyes on her with growing warmth. #40?: He takes the horn from his lips and slowly lets it sink, while the expression on his face turns to one of powerful emotion. He sighs deeply, and gloomily casts his eyes to the ground: #62; #40 or #64 vari?)
Siegmund: (with a trembling voice: #62 vari voc?:) You’ve tended an ill-fated man (:#62 vari voc?): - (#63:) may Wunsch [wish/Wotan] avert ill-fortune from you (:#63)! I’ve rested now and sweet was my ease: (#63:) now shall I wend my way further (:#63). (He moves towards the back of the stage.)
Sieglinde: (turning round quickly) Who’s hunting you down, that you flee so soon?
Siegmund: (stopping: [[ #65 voc: ]]) Ill-fortune follows wherever I flee; ill-fortune draws near me wherever I turn (:#65): (#40 or #64 vari?) from you, woman, may it stay far away! I’ll turn my steps and eyes from here. (He moves quickly towards the door and raises the latch.)
Sieglinde: (impulsively forgetting herself and calling after him) Then tarry here! (guardedly: #40 voc:) Ill-luck you cannot bring (slower) to a house where ill-luck lives (:#40 voc)! (Deeply shaken, Siegmund remains where he is; he gazes searchingly at Sieglinde, who lowers her eyes, ashamed and sad: [[ #66 ]]) (…)
