r." He gave counsel to Wotan which
followed must create difficulties from which the god could deliver
himself only by an injustice; and this injustice Loge seems clearly
to have recognised from the first as the beginning of the end of
the strength of the gods. The subtle Loge is more widely awake than
Wotan to the "power not ourselves which makes for righteousness."
He counselled him to buy the giants' labor by the promise of Freia,
knowing that the gods could never endure to let the amiable goddess
go. He led them to believe that when the time came he would give
them further counsel by which to retain her. And his word Wotan
chose to trust, and gave his heart over to the untroubled enjoyment
of his plans' completion.

And now Freia comes running to him in terror, crying that one of
the giants has told her he is come to fetch her. With her entrance
we first hear the slender sweet phrase, delicately wandering upward,
which after for a time denoting Freia, comes to mean for us just
beauty. Wotan calms the maiden in distress, and asks, as one fancies,
a little uneasily, "Have you seen nothing of Loge?"

The arrival of the giants is one of the great comedy moments of
the play. Their colossally heavy tread, musically rendered, never
fails to call forth laughter from some corner in us of left-over
childhood. It is like the ogre's Fee-faw-fum. Fasolt is a good
giant, his shaggy hair is blond, his fur-tunic white, and his soft
big heart all given over to the touchingly lovely Freia. Fafner is
a bad giant and his hair and furs are black. He is much cleverer
than his brother. They carry as walking-sticks the trunks of trees.

They make it known that they have come for their wages. Wotan bids
them, with a sturdy aplomb worthy of his godhead, state their wishes.
What shall the wages be? Fasolt, a shade astonished, replies, "That,
of course, which we settled upon. Haye you forgotten so soon? Freia....
It is in the bond that she shall follow us home."

"Have you taken leave of your senses... with you bond?" asks Wotan,
with a quick flash. "You must think of a different recompense.
Freia is far too precious to me."

The giant is for a moment still, unable to speak for indignation;
but recovering his voice he makes to the "son of light" a series
of observations eminently to the point. Wotan to these makes no
more retort than as if the words had not been spoken; but--to gain
time till Loge shall arrive--when the giant has quite fi