haunt of the dragon, and eat his heart out in vain longing for
the gold and the ring. The wretched Fafnir, once an honest giant,
can only make himself terrible enough to keep his gold by
remaining a venomous reptile. Why he should not become an honest
giant again and clear out of his cavern, leaving the gold and the
ring and the rest of it for anyone fool enough to take them at
such a price, is the first question that would occur to anyone
except a civilized man, who would be too accustomed to that sort
of mania to be at all surprised at it.

To Alberic in the night comes the Wanderer, whom the dwarf,
recognizing his despoiler of old, abuses as a shameless thief,
taunting him with the helpless way in which all his boasted power
is tied up with the laws and bargains recorded on the heft of his
spear, which, says Alberic truly, would crumble like chaff in his
hands if he dared use it for his own real ends. Wotan, having
already had to kill his own son with it, knows that very well;
but it troubles him no more; for he is now at last rising to
abhorrence of his own artificial power, and looking to the coming
hero, not for its consolidation but its destruction. When Alberic
breaks out again with his still unquenched hope of one day
destroying the gods and ruling the world through the ring, Wotan
is no longer shocked. He tells Alberic that Brother Mime
approaches with a hero whom Godhead can neither help nor hinder.
Alberic may try his luck against him without disturbance from
Valhalla. Perhaps, he suggests, if Alberic warns Fafnir, and
offers to deal with the hero for him, Fafnir, may give him the
ring. They accordingly wake up the dragon, who condescends to
enter into bellowing conversation, but is proof against their
proposition, strong in the magic of property. "I have and hold,"