Stories from Wagner. Рихард Вагнер
for this awkward little man from whom they could so easily escape. She told the secret of the Gold in the words of a song
"The realm of the world
To him shall it bring
Who out of this Gold
Shall fashion a Ring
Of magical power untold.
"Hum! Say you so?" said the dwarf, keeping his excitement down by a powerful effort, though his finger-nails fairly clawed into the flesh. "If your metal is as fine as all that, why doesn't someone lay hands upon it and do all these great things?"
"Sister, sister! be careful!" said another of the nymphs.
But the first only laughed and replied, "What can this silly old fellow do? Let us have some more fun teasing him!"
Then the third maiden floated gracefully near. "Why doesn't someone seize the Gold?" she repeated. "'Tis because no one has yet been able to pay the price."
"What is the price?"
"This is it," she answered. "Listen
"'He who forswears the might of love,
And all its pleasures manifold,
He only has the magic art
To mould the Ring from out the Gold.'"
"Pish! a pretty story you are telling me!" said the dwarf. "As though a little matter like doing without love should make a person master of the world!"
He made a great show of scorn while he said these words, but all the time he was edging quietly nearer the treasure.
"But love is the greatest thing in the world!" said the first maiden. "No one can do anything without its wonderful aid. Why, even you—poor old fellow!—would not dare forswear it."
"I would not dare forswear it—eh?" exclaimed the dwarf with a snap of his fingers and a wild laugh of triumph. "Love, forsooth! What is love to me, when gold is in question? Hark you, Rhine-maidens! I renounce love for ever! Be my witness!"
And he sprang rapidly forward, before the nymphs could prevent him, clambered up the jagged rock and seized the coveted treasure.
"Our Rhine-Gold! Our Rhine-Gold!" shrieked the maidens. But it was too late; already he had disappeared in one of the clefts of rock leading to his cavernous home, and though they darted after him they could not find him in the dark depths. Only his mocking laugh came back to them.
"Ho, ho! Love! When all the world shall be mine!"
Now we have already seen that the nymphs and the dwarfs formed only a part of the strange world, so long ago. At the very time when Alberich was stealing the Gold and preparing to make the Ring of Power down under the earth, there was an unusual happening in the home of the gods far up on the mountains.
For a long time Wotan, the greatest of the gods, had desired a palace large enough to contain his kingly court. But he could find no one strong enough to build it, until on a day two giants from the valleys below came into his presence. Large were they of shoulder and thigh, many times larger than ordinary men.
"We have come to build your palace," they said.
"Who are ye?" asked Wotan, looking piercingly at them with his single eye.
"I am Fafner, the frost-giant," answered one. "I can rend all these rocks asunder and build your palace in a single night, with the aid of my brother Fasolt, here."
Wotan was overjoyed to find someone who would undertake his cherished plan.
"What payment do you desire for this service?" he asked.
"You must give me the hand of your beautiful sister, Freia," answered Fafner.
Wotan frowned. He desired the palace above all things, just then, for it would enforce his visible rule over the world. But Freia was his favourite sister. Moreover, it was she who was the goddess of youth and beauty and who tended the tree of golden apples which kept the gods always young.
While Wotan was frowning and pondering to himself, his brother Loki whispered in his ear,
"Let them build the palace. We shall find another way out of the bargain."
Now Loki, god of fire, was the craftiest of all the gods. So when Wotan heard his whispered advice his brow cleared, and he looked at the giants.
"So be it!" he commanded. "Build me the castle 'gainst another sunrise. It shall be Walhalla—the supreme home of gods and men."
The giants bowed and went their way. Presently the sound of mighty blows was heard, and terrific crashes as of the bursting asunder of rocks. All that day and night the tumult continued, while the earth shook to its very foundations.
The next morning the rising sun lit up a splendid spectacle. There stood Walhalla, magnificent home of the gods, upon the crest of a towering cliff. Its white walls gleamed and glistened. Its towers and buttresses were built of stones so large that they seemed placed for all eternity; yet the whole mass appeared as light and graceful as a fairy vision.
"Beautiful! Wonderful!" cried the gods and goddesses in rapture.
"Let us take up our abode in our new home!" said Wotan, with the delight of a schoolboy.
But just then the two giants appeared clad in their shaggy skins of slain animals.
"Hold!" said Fafner. "First give us in payment the goddess Freia as you promised us."
"That I cannot do," replied Wotan. "You must think of some other way for me to reward you."
"Not so!" exclaimed the giants angrily, their hoarse voices making all the mountain quiver. "Give us the maiden, as you agreed, else we shall tear down the palace quicker than we built it."
And they placed themselves on each side of the trembling Freia.
"Touch her not!" cried two gods, as they sprang forth to protect their sister. "Do you not know," continued one, "that I am Thor, god of thunder, and that with one blow of my hammer I can crush you both?"
And he raised his hammer threateningly. But now the great Wotan interposed in his turn.
"Restrain your fury!" he commanded, stretching forth the dread Spear of Authority between the giants and the gods. "By this Spear the word of Wotan cannot be broken; and unless Fasolt and Fafner agree to accept other reward, they must e'en take our sister with them to the regions of frost."
At this command the contending ones fell back, but there arose a low cry of fear from the lovely Freia and a deep lamentation from the other gods. For how could they live without their sweet sister, she who gave them the apples of eternal youth?
Meanwhile Wotan had been casting his eyes impatiently from side to side. He was looking for his crafty counsellor, Loki, and wondering why he did not appear with his aid; since he it was who had promised to find a way out of the bargain.
"Come, decide!" said the giants, again stepping forward.
"Only one hour more," pleaded Wotan. "I must confer with my counsellor who is just now absent."
"Only one hour, then," replied the giants.
"Send out messengers in search of Loki, god of fire," commanded Wotan. "Let him be summoned instantly."
But at this moment who should appear but Loki himself, walking in unconcernedly and looking about in feigned surprise as though he were the last person anyone would wish to see.
"Good-morrow, all!" he said airily. "That is a beautiful castle I see upon yon mountain height. I have just been examining it from every side, and upon my word it would defy even my arts to destroy it!"
"Yes, yes," replied Wotan, impatiently, beginning to be a little ashamed of his fine Walhalla. "But that is not the point, just now. These giants demand our sister