o who interests them, they dive
under to consult together,--concerning the best method, of course,
of extracting from him the Ring.

Siegfried comes to the edge of the bank overhanging the river, in
search of tracks of his game, mysteriously lost. He is blaming some
wood-imp for playing him a trick, when the Rhine-daughters, rising
into sight, hail him by name. They adopt with him the playful, teasing
tone of pretty girls with a likely-looking young fellow: "What are
you grumbling into the ground?.... What imp excites your ire?...
Has a water-sprite bothered you?... Tell us, Siegfried, tell us!"
He watches them, smiling, and replies in their own vein: "Have you
charmed into your dwellings the shaggy fellow who disappeared from
my sight? If he is your sweetheart, far be it from me, you merry
ladies, to deprive you of him!" They laugh loud and long, the
Rhine-nymphs. "What will you give us, Siegfried, if we find your
game for you?" "I have so far no fruit of my chase. You must tell
me what you would like!" "A golden ring gleams on your finger..."
suggests Wellgunde, and, unable to restrain their eagerness, the
three cry out in a voice: "Give us that!" He considers the Ring a
moment. "A gigantic dragon I slew for the ring, and I am to part
with it in exchange for the paws of a worthless bear?" "Are you so
niggardly?... So higgling at a bargain?... You should be generous
to ladies!..." they shame him one after the other. With perfect
good humour, he offers as a better objection: "Were I to waste
my property on you, my wife, I suspect, would find fault." "She
is a shrew, no doubt?... I dare say she beats you.... The hero
has a presentiment of the weight of her hand!..." They laugh
immoderately. "Laugh away!" the hero laughs with them, but, not
to be compelled by their derision: "I shall none the less leave
you to disappointment, for the ring which you covet no teasing
shall get for you!" The wily maidens do not take this up, but,
turning from him, permit him to overhear the remarks about him
which they exchange among themselves: "So handsome! So strong!...
So fitted to inspire love!... What a pity that he is a miser!"
With shouts of laughter they duck under.

Siegfried turns away, untroubled, and descends further into the
narrow valley. But their words have not quite glanced off him.
"Why do I suffer such a mean report of myself? Shall I lend myself
to gibes of the sort? If they should come again to the water's
edge, the