HAGEN AND SIEGFRIED
Siegfried put down the drinking-horn, and, after a moment’s silence, resumed his tale, while the memory of the forest sounds passed softly and constantly across his brain. He told, in tender tones, how the bird had sung to him of a glorious bride sleeping amid fire far away; and of how he had passed through the enchanted flame-circle, and, with a kiss, awakened her from her long sleep; and he spoke her name with such love and tenderness that even Hagen’s wicked heart should have been touched for a moment; but he only stood leaning on his spear and smiling—always smiling—as one smiles who has knowledge greater than his fellows.
Gunther started up wildly as Siegfried whispered the name of “Brünnhilde”; for the Rhine Chief understood all now, and realized in that short time what deep wickedness it must have been that had parted the noble Volsung and his bride. There had been no deceit, no treachery, no broken Oath of Brotherhood—none of the wickedness had been on the young hero’s side. Gunther dropped his head in horror.
But Hagen took a step forward.
“See you those Ravens?” he said, slowly, pointing to two great black birds flying upward from the Rhine. They were Wotan’s King-Ravens, which had been sent out to bring tidings back to Walhalla, and which were returning there with news that the Dusk of the Gods was at hand. Siegfried turned to gaze after them as they flew. It was growing late. The yellow afternoon light was deepening to red gold. The sun was setting. The Ravens flew away, their broad black wings bathed in the ruddy light, and it was like the light of a great fire.
“They arouse in me revenge!” cried Hagen, and he raised his spear and stabbed the young Volsung in the back. Siegfried staggered wildly; and then, raising his shield, tried to crush Hagen with it. But then even his great strength left him, and he fell back upon the ground, while the warriors drew near with exclamations of horror and faces on which a great awe had fallen.
“I have been revenged,” said Hagen, and passed up the rocks and out of sight amid the growing dusk. The sunset was as red as blood now. There was an ominous look in its lurid light—yet a strange peace also. It lay on the head and figure of the young hero like a king’s crown and robe.
AFTER SIEGFRIED’S DEATH
In the hush that had fallen, Siegfried raised himself upon his arm and spoke.