blungen treasure, asks
for the heart of his own brother, Hogni:

"Hogni's bleeding heart must be laid in my hand, carved with the
keen-cutting knife out of the breast of the good knight.

"They carved the heart of Hialli (the thrall) from out his breast, and
laid it bleeding on a charger, and bore it to Gunnar.

"Then spake Gunnar, king of men: 'Here I have the heart of Hialli the
coward, unlike the heart of Hogni the brave. It quakes greatly as it
lies on the charger, but it quaked twice as much when it lay in his
breast.'

"Hogni laughed when they cut out the quick heart of that crested hero;
he had little thought of whimpering. They laid it bleeding on the
charger and bore it before Gunnar.

"Then spake Gunnar, the Hniflungs' hero: 'Here I have the heart of Hogni
the brave, unlike the heart of Hialli the coward; it quakes very little
as it lies on the charger, but it quaked much less when it lay in his
breast.'"

Justice being thus done to his brother, and feeling no regret, Gunnar's
joy breaks forth; he alone now possesses the secret of the Niblungen
(Hniflungs') treasure, and "the great rings shall gleam in the rolling
waters rather than they shall shine on the hands of the sons of the
Huns."[47]

From this example, and from others which it would be easy to add, it can
be inferred that _nuances_ and refined sentiments escape the
comprehension of such heroes; they waste no time in describing things of
beauty; they care not if earth brings forth flowers, or if women have
cheeks "purple as the fox-glove." Neither have these men any aptitude
for light repartee; they do not play, they kill; their jests fell the
adversary to the ground. "Thou hast eaten the fresh-bleeding hearts of
thy sons, mixed with honey, thou giver of swords," says Queen Gudrun to
Attila, the historic king of the Huns, who, in this literature, has
become the typical foreign hero; "now thou shalt digest the gory flesh
of man, thou stern king, having eaten of it as a dainty morsel, and sent
it as a mess to thy friends." Such is the kind of jokes they enjoy; the
poet describes the speech of the Queen as "a word of mockery."[48] The
exchange of mocking words between Loki and the gods is of the same order
as Gudrun's speech. Cowards! cries Loki to the gods; Prostitutes! cries
he to the goddesses; Drunkard! is the reply of both. There is no
question here of _argute loqui_.

Violent in their speech, cruel in their actions,[49] they love all that