Siegmund, the boy, as he grew to manhood, became a very wolf in wildness, but a great warrior, and a stanch hero. He led a roving life, with few friends, and, alas! many enemies. His generous heart brought him into sad dilemmas sometimes; as, for instance, when, at a maiden’s request, he defended her from her relations, who wished to marry her to some one whom she hated. When, in doing battle for her, he killed one of her kinsmen, she had flung herself upon the dead man and accused her defender of cruelty. He fought the rude warriors who were pressing up about her until his weapons were torn from him, and he was driven away into the woods through a wild storm which seemed to blow him on with irresistible violence, until he found himself at the door of a house. Utterly exhausted, he staggered in, filled only with the desire to rest and shelter his tired body from the storm. And the house was that of Hunding, the Robber. [Music: Hunding Motif] [Music: Volsung Motif] CHAPTER I THE HOUSE OF HUNDING Outside the storm was raging, the great pines were bending in the wild gale, the thunder and lightning were in mad commotion. Inside, rude as the hut was, there were warmth and apparent peace. A large fire burned on the hearth, and sent its fitful glare from time to time flashing about the bare hall; now shining on the sword-hilt in the great oak-tree growing in the centre; now lighting the dark corners with a faint red gleam. A heap of skins was beside the hearth, and upon this Siegmund sank exhausted. As he lay there the door opened, and Sieglinde came quickly from an inner room. Frightened by the sight of a stranger, she accosted him in trembling tones. Receiving no answer, she came nearer, and, looking down at him, she saw a strong, tall man, with golden hair, and a face as beautiful as the sun. Caught over his shoulder was a great black bear-skin, and his face was like that of a king among men. His eyes were closed as she bent over him; but, after a moment or two, he opened them and gasped faintly, “Water! Water!” only to sink back once more, exhausted, as Sieglinde hastened away to draw him a draught at the spring. She was soon back with what he had asked for, and, giving it, looked down kindly as he drank. When he had finished, he gazed up at her and saw a beautiful maiden, with the rough, gray skin of some wild animal worn loosely over her long white robe. She had hair of as deep a gold as his own, and a face full of sweetness and a sympathy that he had never known before.