erpent coiled, with
its tail in its mouth, and with ruby eyes glistening and cold.

"What shall I do with this ring?" asked Siegfried.

"Give it to me!" cried Niblung.

"Give it to me!" cried Schilbung.

And both tried to snatch it from Siegfried's hand.

But the effort was too great for them. Their arms fell helpless at their
sides, their feet slipped beneath them, their limbs failed: they sank
fainting, each upon his pile of treasures.

"O my dear, dear gold!" murmured Niblung, trying to clasp it all in his
arms,--"my dear, dear gold! Thou art mine, mine only. No one shall
take thee from me. Here thou art, here thou shalt rest. O my dear, dear
gold!" And then, calling up the last spark of life left in his famished
body, he cried out to Siegfried, "Give me the ring!--the ring, I say!"

He hugged his cherished gold nearer to his bosom; he ran his thin
fingers deep down into the shining yellow heap; he pressed his pale lips
to the cold and senseless metal; he whispered faintly, "My dear, dear
gold!" and then he died.

"O precious, precious gem-stones," faltered Schilbung, "how beautiful
you are! And you are mine, all mine. I will keep you safe. Come, come,
my bright-eyed beauties! No one but me shall touch you. You are mine,
mine, mine!" And he chattered and laughed as only madmen laugh. And he
kissed the hard stones, and sought to hide them in his bosom. But his
hands trembled and failed, dark mists swam before his eyes; he fancied
that he heard the black dwarfs clamoring for his treasure; he sprang up
quickly, he shrieked--and then fell lifeless upon his hoard of sparkling
gems.

A strange, sad sight it was,--boundless wealth, and miserable death;
two piles of yellow gold and sun-bright diamonds, and two thin, starved
corpses stretched upon them. Some stories relate that the brothers were
slain by Siegfried, because their foolish strife and greediness had
angered him.[EN#19] But I like not to think so. It was the gold, and not
Siegfried, that slew them.

"O gold, gold!" cried the hero sorrowfully, "truly thou art the
mid-world's curse; thou art man's bane. But when the bright spring-time
of the new world shall come, and Balder shall reign in his glory, then
will the curse be taken from thee, and thy yellow brightness will be the
sign of purity and enduring worth; and then thou wilt be a blessing to
mankind, and the precious plaything of the gods."

But Siegfried had little time for thought and speech. A st