r laid across her steed. Over the neighing and
hoof-beats, the music develops of a lightly thundering cavalry-charge,
suggestive of the rocking in the saddle of horsemen borne over
billowing expanses--glorious with the glory of the hosts which
fancy sees among the crimson and gold banners of the sunset. The
eight are at last arrived; their war-cries, their hard laughter,
and the shrill neighing of the battle-steeds mingle in harsh harmony.
The shrieks of an autumn gale, exulting in its freedom to drive
the waves mountain-high and scatter all the leaves of the forest,
have the same quality of wildness and force and glee. The
steel-corseleted figures clustered on the peak make one think a
little of gleaming dragon-flies seen in summer, swarming as they
do around some point of mysterious interest. The laughter of the
Valkyries is for grim jests they exchange over the conduct of their
horses, who fall to fighting with one another, because the dead
warriors on their backs were enemies in life. Bruennhilde only is
wanting, to complete their number, but they dare not start for
Walhalla without her, lest Walvater, not seeing his favourite,
should receive them with a frown. They are amazed, when they finally
see her coming, to descry on the back of her horse no warrior, but
a woman--amazed, likewise, at the wild speed of Grane's flight,
and to see him stagger and drop on reaching the goal. They hurry
to Bruennhilde's assistance. She comes in, breathless with terror
and haste, supporting Sieglinde. Wotan, she informs the wondering
sisters, is hot in pursuit of her. She begs one of them to keep
lookout for him from the top of the peak. The black storm-cloud on
which he rides is perceived sweeping toward them from the north.
To the questioning Valkyries Bruennhilde gives in quick outline
the story of her disobedience, and implores their help to save
Sieglinde,--for the Waelsungen all Wotan has threatened with destruction.
She conjures them, too, to conceal herself, who has not the hardihood
to face her father in the extremity of his indignation. But the
sisters are appalled at the revelation of her misdeed, and no less
at the suggestion that they should join in her act of rebellion.
Her prayer for the loan of one of their horses on which the woman
may escape, meets with obtuse looks, headshakes, uncompromising
denial. She is appealing urgently, hurriedly, to one after the
other, when Sieglinde who, stony, death-struck, dazed with g