nnhilde turned upon
him.
"Oh, thou most cowardly of men--betrayed and betrayer! If I dealt
justice, the whole world's destruction could not pay for the wrong
done me."
"Naught but Siegfried's death can wipe out the wrong," Hagen cried,
watching Bruennhilde as he spoke. "Since he cannot be killed in battle,
listen to my plan! To-morrow we hunt in honour of the weddings of
Gutrune and the knight, Gunther and thee. While in the chase, and
Siegfried all unsuspecting, I shall thrust at him from behind."
"So let it be," Bruennhilde cried, and Gunther, too cowardly to know
the right, consented. With the morrow's tragedy arranged Hagen saw the
way at last to possess himself of the Nibelungen ring.
As they decided upon the deed, the bridal procession came from the
inner hall. All the vassals and women bore spears and flowers. Gutrune
and Siegfried were carried aloft, upon shields, and as Bruennhilde and
Gunther met them, they too, were hoisted high and the procession moved
onward, toward the altars on the river's bank, where they were to
offer sacrifices unto the Gods.
ACT III
[Music]
Three days had passed since the Rhein-daughters had lost their golden
treasure, and on the fourth they were swimming near the surface of the
river, popping their heads up and calling to each other, when they
heard the sound of the Gibichung hunters. Fearing to be caught by
mortals, they dived to the bottom of the Rhein. No sooner had they
disappeared than Siegfried came into the wood, armed for the hunt. He
had lost his way, having followed his game, far from the others, and
as he began to complain that he had that day got no game, the
Rhein-daughters rose again to the surface and mocked him.
"If we grant thee some game to-day, wilt thou give us that ring upon
thy finger?" they called to him.
"What! In return for a paltry bearskin give to you a ring which I
gained in battling with the Dragon?" he laughed, "nay."
"Ah, maybe thou hast a scold for a wife, who would make thee feel her
blows if thou gavest away the ring." This tormenting reply annoyed
Siegfried and finally he took off the ring and held it up to them,
offering it if they would cease to deride him. Then they regarded him
gravely.
"Keep that ring," they said, "till thou hast tasted the ill-fate that
goes with it; after that thou wilt gladly give it to us. Now thou art
parting with it, reluctantly." So Siegfried replaced the ring on his
finger.
"Tell me the r
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