"Never! I will give my life, but never this ring. Oh, you wretches! Rascals! Villains!" He stopped shouting for sheer lack of breath. He saw before him the loss of that which was to win him back his gold and power. Wotan made a motion to Loge, who laughed and dragged the ring from the dwarf's hand, Wotan put the magic ring upon his own finger, and Alberich nearly fainted with despair. Gathering his scattered senses, he began to utter a frightful curse upon the ring. He swore that whoever had it should meet ruin and death instead of power and happiness, and cursing thus in a way to curdle even the blood of the Gods, he spat at Wotan.
"Have done, thou groundling," Loge said. "Go to thy hole." Alberich fled, still crying curses on the gold.
When Wotan and Loge first returned to earth with the imp, it had been twilight, but now, just before night, the light grew stronger, and when the mist that had hung lightly over all cleared away, Fricka, Donner, and Froh could be seen hurrying to the tryst.
"Thou hast brought Freïa's ransom," Fricka cried, joyously, looking at the great golden heap. "Already, she must be near, because see! Do we not all grow younger?" she asked tremblingly, looking at the others.
"It is true; we were dying and now I feel strength in all my limbs," Donner answered, looking in amazement at his brother Gods.
"Yes--here comes Freïa with Fafner and Fasolt." Freïa would have rushed into Fricka's arms, but the Giants still held her fast.
"She is not thine till we have the gold," they declared; and thrusting his staff into the earth, Fafner said:
"Thou shalt heap the Rheingold as high as my staff--which is as high as the Goddess, and the heap shall be made as thick and as broad as she. When this is done, she is thine." Wotan called out impatiently:
"Heap up the gold; make haste and be rid of them." So Loge and Froh fell to heaping the gold about the staff, while the Giants stood by and watched. When it all was piled, Fafner peered through the heap to see if there was an unfilled chink.
"Not enough," he cried; "I can still see the gleam of Freïa's hair--which is finer than gold. Throw on that trinket at thy belt," he signified the Tarnhelm which hung at the girdle of Loge. Loge threw it contemptuously upon the heap. Then Fafner peeped again. "Ah! I still can see her bright eyes--more gleaming than gold. Until every chink is closed so that I may no longer see the Goddess and thus behold what I have sacrificed for the treasure, it will not do. Throw on that ring thou wearest on thy finger," he called to Wotan.