Siegfried laughingly told them about the three Rhine Maidens who had warned him of his approaching death; and Gunther, moving apart from the others with a curious shadow and sadness on his face, started terribly, while Hagen merely laughed a harsh, revengeful laugh. Gunther did not forget his Oath of Brotherhood; and, though he believed that Siegfried had deceived him, he hated to harm him, or allow him to be harmed, without better cause. He shuddered and shook his head when the young hero brought him the horn of wine. The rest of the hunters flung themselves down under the trees, and drank merrily and rested in the deepening golden light of the afternoon, but Gunther sat apart from them, gloomy and silent, like one who dreamed sad dreams, and could not arouse himself. At last, Siegfried, noticing his depression, said that he would tell him the story of his boyhood, if it would amuse and cheer him. And sitting down on the stump of a great tree, with his shield and weapons at his feet, and on all sides the warriors listening eagerly to his words, the young Volsung began his tale, and Hagen stood near, leaning on his spear, a look of grim expectation on his dark face. It was of Mime that Siegfried spoke first, Mime and the life in the cave; the forging of Nothung, and finally the journey to Hate Hole, and the slaying of the monster worm, Fafner. He told how the Dragon’s blood had given him power to understand the language of birds; and, as he spoke, memories of the soft woodland voices and the rustling of the trees passed tenderly across his mind. He told of the winning of the Rhinegold Ring and the Tarnhelm, of the treachery of Mime, and of how he had killed him with Nothung. Then he paused, for Hagen came up to him with a drinking-horn filled with wine, which he bade him swallow, saying it would help to clear his memory. Siegfried raised it to his lips and drank, and Hagen stood near, leaning on his spear, and smiling grimly. For the wine had in it something that would, indeed, bring back the young hero’s memory, and Hagen knew that, when he remembered Brünnhilde, he would be as one deaf and blind to all else, and would so prove an easy victim. [Illustration: HAGEN AND SIEGFRIED] Siegfried put down the drinking-horn, and, after a moment’s silence, resumed his tale, while the memory of the forest sounds passed softly and constantly across his brain. He told, in tender tones, how the bird had sung to him of a glorious bride sleeping amid fire far away; and of how he had passed through the enchanted flame-circle, and, with a kiss, awakened her from her long sleep; and he spoke her name with such love and tenderness that even Hagen’s wicked heart should have been touched for a moment; but he only stood leaning on his spear and smiling—always smiling—as one smiles who has knowledge greater than his fellows.