Ten stalwart sons were born to Volsung, and one daughter, Signy, came to brighten his home.
Ten stalwart sons had he and one fair daughter, Signy by name.
Aunt Osla insisted upon Signy's retirement to a sofa—for the child still looked wan and nervous.
Then they looked to her and they saw Signy's face and it was white and stern.
Then the feast sped on the fairer, far into the night, but amidst the mirth Sigmund and Signy were sad at heart.
"There is no 'perhaps' about it, Signy," he retorted a little sharply.
"All right," said he, and up the hill he bounded, while Signy set herself to picking up shells.
But you are a trump all the same, Signy; you are; and as good as a boy.
The poem does not record the death of Siggeir's and Signy's son, though the saga does.
Uncle Brs was not so very difficult to persuade as Signy had imagined.