That accomplished, Fasolt strained his eyes to find an unfilled crevice. Through a tiny space he beheld one of the goddess’s eyes, and demanded the Ring to fill up the chink. “The Ring!” exclaimed Wotan, starting back. “The Ring!” cried Logi. “Nonsense! It is the Rhine Children’s treasure. The King God will return it to them.” “Foolish you are,” said Wotan, in a low voice. “I shall keep it myself.” “Bad is the prospect for the fulfilment of my promise to the weeping Rhine Children,” said Logi, softly. “Your promise does not bind me,” said the King of the Gods. “I shall keep the Ring.” “Hand over the ransom!” cried Fafner, loudly. “Never!” said Wotan. “Then Friea is ours!” roared the giants, and they grasped her once more. The gods, in chorus, begged Wotan to give the wranglers the treasure, but he was deaf to their entreaties. His eyes were fastened upon the bright Ring’s glitter; he was blind to all else. Suddenly the light seemed to die out from the world. All grew dark. From a black chasm in the rocks rose a woman’s figure in a strange halo of blue light. Her face was pale, with a look of deepest mystery upon it. Lifting her hand, she spoke in low, solemn tones to Wotan: “Hear my warning! Avoid the Ring, with its terrible spell! Heed me, O Wotan!” “Who are you who warn me?” asked the god. “I understand all things; wisest in all the world am I. The witch-wife Erda, men call me, Mother of the Norns. Listen, listen, listen! A day of dusk and gloom is coming for the gods. Beware of the Ring!” She sank down into the earth once more. The blue light faded away. As she vanished she spoke again: “Think well on what I have said!” She was gone. Slowly the light came back to the world. Lost in thought, Wotan stood a moment; then turned quickly to the giants, and tore the Ring from his finger. “It is yours!” he declared; and he tossed it on to the pile. “Back to us, Friea!” and the Love Goddess gladly flew back to their midst. Fafner and Fasolt began fighting over the Ring at once, and Alberich’s dark spell quickly made itself felt. For Fasolt, seizing the Ring, was killed by his brother, who, with Ring and treasure, fled away to a far cave, named Hate Hole, and there, in the shape of a great dragon, guarded his hoard in loneliness for many years. But that is a different part of my story. After the death of Fasolt and the flight of Fafner with the treasure, the clouds hanging low over the gods were cleared away by a great storm, and, as Walhalla appeared shining in the sun, a rainbow bridge spanned the space between the palace and the gods, who passed over it to their new home. “These gods—how foolish and blind!” said Logi to himself, as he went with them. “I feel ashamed that I am one of them, bound to share in their doings.” The beautiful palace glittered brightly. The gods smiled as they passed over the rainbow bridge. Only from the Rhine below there came a sound of wailing.