drink,"
replies the joyless man; "it does not flow noble and untroubled
like yours; cold and morose it stagnates in me, and will not colour
my cheek. Wherefore I keep afar from the fiery league." The ancient
conception of the power of a vow, as of the power of a curse, is
interestingly illustrated in this story. The effectiveness of a vow,
as we discover, has nothing to do with persons or circumstances; an
oath becomes a sort of independent creation with a precise operation
of its own. Hagen, capable of any breach of faith, meditating nothing
but treachery, dare not join in the formality of the oath because of
sure and deadly danger in breaking it. Siegfried deceives Gunther
without intending or knowing it, yet his blood must "gush forth
in streams" as appointed, to wash out his offence.

Siegfried is for starting without delay on the quest: "There is
my skiff; it will take us quickly to the rock; one night you shall
wait in the boat on the shore, then shall you lead home the bride."

The Hall is left in Hagen's care. Followed by Gutrune's eyes, the
heroes hurry off. Hagen places himself with spear and shield in
the doorway, and, while sitting there sentinel-wise, reflects upon
the success of his devices: "Blown along by the wind, the son of
Gibich goes a-wooing. Helmsman to him is a strong hero, who is to
brave danger in his stead. His own bride this latter will bring
for him to the Rhine, but to me he will bring--the Ring! You frank
good fellows, light-hearted companions, sail cheerfully on! Abject
though he may seem to you, you are yet his servants--the servants
of the Nibelung's son!" The curtain closes.

When it reopens we see the scene once more of Siegfried's and
Bruennhilde's leave-taking. Bruennhilde sits sunk in contemplation of
the Ring and the memories attached to it. Distant thunder disturbs
her dreams; her ear seizes a familiar sound, not heard for many a
day, the gallop of an approaching air-horse. Her name comes borne
on the wind. She rushes to receive Waltraute, whose call she has
joyfully recognised. In her delight, she does not at once take
account of the Valkyrie's sorrowful and preoccupied mien. She presses
rapid questions upon her: "You dared then for love of Bruennhilde
brave Walvater's commandment? Or--how? Oh, tell me! Has Wotan's
disposition softened toward me? When I protected Siegmund against
the god, while it was a fault, I know that I was fulfilling his
wish. I know, too, that his anger