"You are that false rogue, the Spirit of Flame, then?" Alberich said.
"Never mind calling names; you can't get on without me, you know that well enough," Loge answered, grinning.
"What good can thy treasures do thee here in this perpetual night?" Wotan asked.
"My gold shall buy me even the Gods, themselves." Alberich replied; "and though I forswore love, I am likely to get even that; my gold shall buy it for me."
"What prevents some one stealing thy magic ring? Thou hast no friend in all the world, so when you sleep who shall guard the ring?"
"My own wit! What, think you I am a fool? Let us see! By my own cunning I have had fashioned this Tarnhelm which makes me invisible to all. Then who shall find me when I sleep?" he demanded triumphantly.
Loge smiled contemptuously.
"Doubtless thou wouldst be safe enough—if such magic could be," he answered, incredulously, "but——"
"You doubt?" Alberich shouted, his vanity all aroused.
"Well, if it be true—show us," the cunning Flame Spirit returned. Immediately Alberich set the Tarnhelm upon his head.