was appeased, for even though he
sealed me in slumber, left me bound on a rock, to be the bondmaid
of the man who should find and wake me, yet he granted favour to
the prayer of my terror, he surrounded the rock with a devouring
fire which should close the way to the base. Thus was I through my
punishment made happy! The most splendid of heroes won me for wife.
In the light of his love to-day I beam and laugh!" With uncontrolled
joy she embraces the sister, unconscious of the latter's impatience
and shy attempt to repel her. "Did my fate, sister, allure you?
Have you come to pasture your sight upon my bliss, to share that
which has befallen me?"

The suggestion is verily too much! "To share the tumult which,
insensate, possesses you? A different matter it is which impelled
me, fearful, to break Wotan's commandment...." Bruennhilde wakes
to the sister's troubled looks, but she can still think of but
one reason for them. "The stern one has not forgiven? You stand
in terror of his anger?" "Had I need to fear him--there would be a
term to my fear!" "Amazed, I do not understand you!" "Master your
agitation, listen attentively. The terror which drove me forth
from Walhalla, drives me back thither...." "What has happened to
the eternal gods?" cries Bruennhilde, at last alarmed. Waltraute
unfolds to her then the sorrowful plight of the gods, making her
even over the events in Walhalla since her cutting off from the
eternal dynasty. She describes Walvater returning home from his
wanderings with his broken spear, the erection around the Hall
of the Blessed of the funeral pile cut from the World-Ash, the
assembling about Wotan's throne of the gods and heroes. "There he
sits, speaks no word, the splinters of the spear clenched in his
hand. Holda's (Freia's) apples he will not touch. Fear and amazement
bind the gods. His ravens both he has sent ranging; should they
return with good tidings, then once again--for the last time!--the
god would divinely smile. Clasping his knees lie we Valkyries;
he is blind to our entreating looks. I pressed weeping against
his breast, his glance wavered--Bruennhilde, he thought of you!
Deeply he sighed; he closed his eyes and as if in dream he breathed
forth the words: "If to the daughters of the deep Rhine she would
restore the Ring, delivered from the weight of the curse were the
gods and the world!" I bethought me then; from his side, between
the rows of silent heroes, I stole. In secret haste I