When the bear is dismissed, the new sword is produced. It is
promptly smashed, as usual, with, also, the usual effects on the
temper of Siegfried, who is quite boundless in his criticisms of
the smith's boasted skill, and declares that he would smash the
sword's maker too if he were not too disgusting to be handled.

Mimmy falls back on his stock defence: a string of maudlin
reminders of the care with which he has nursed the little boy
into manhood. Siegfried replies candidly that the strangest thing
about all this care is that instead of making him grateful, it
inspires him with a lively desire to wring the dwarf's neck.
Only, he admits that he always comes back to his Mimmy, though he
loathes him more than any living thing in the forest. On this
admission the dwarf attempts to build a theory of filial
instinct. He explains that he is Siegfried's father, and that
this is why Siegfried cannot do without him. But Siegfried has
learned from his forest companions, the birds and foxes and
wolves, that mothers as well as fathers go to the making of
children. Mimmy, on the desperate ground that man is neither bird
nor fox, declares that he is Siegfried's father and mother both.
He is promptly denounced as a filthy liar, because the birds and
foxes are exactly like their parents, whereas Siegfried, having
often watched his own image in the water, can testify that he is
no more like Mimmy than a toad is like a trout. Then, to place
the conversation on a plane of entire frankness, he throttles
Mimmy until he is speechless. When the dwarf recovers, he is so
daunted that he tells Siegfried the truth about his birth, and
for testimony thereof produces the pieces of the sword that broke
upon Wotan's spear. Siegfried instantly orders him to repair the
sword on pain of an unmerciful thrashing, and rushes off into the