d servant
no more," Bruennhilde pressingly continues, "if my obedience is
to be given to masterful man, not of a coward and braggart let
me be the prize! Let him not be worthless who shall win me!" "You
cut yourself off from Walvater," he repulses her; "he cannot choose
for you!" "A noble generation there is, having its origin in you--"
Bruennhilde suggests, still unquelled, the point is so vital to her;
"the most admirable of heroes, I know it, is to spring from the
line of the Waelsungen...." "Not a word of the Waelsungen!" Wotan
fiercely interrupts. "When I severed from you, I severed from them.
Doomed to destruction is that line!" Sieglinde has been saved,
Bruennhilde informs him, who shall give birth to the Waelsung of
whom she speaks. Wotan sternly silences her: let her not seek to
shake his firmness. He cannot choose for her! He has loitered too
long already. He cannot stop to consider what her wishes are, nothing
further has he to do with her but to see his sentence executed.

What has he devised for her punishment, she asks.

He repeats his earlier sentence: "In deep sleep I shall seal you.
He who awakes the defenceless sleeper, shall have her to wife."
Bruennhilde falls on her knees to him. "If I am to be bound in fast
sleep, an easy prey to the most ignoble of men, this one prayer
you shall grant which a noble terror lifts to you: Let the sleeper
be protected by a barrier of fright-inspiring things, that only
a fearless and great-hearted hero may be able to reach me on my
mountain-peak!" "Too much you demand! Too much of favour!" She
clasps his knees, and with the wildest inspiration of terror: "This
one prayer you must--must listen to! At your command let a great
fire spring up. Let the summit be surrounded by fierce flames,
whose tongues shall lick up and whose teeth shall devour any caitiff
venturing near to the formidable place!" So is her whole soul heard
to cry aloud in this prayer, as she pleads for so much more than her
life, that all by which Wotan had fortified himself against her,
and which had been subjected to an assault so prolonged, suddenly
gives way, his weary heart is pierced. Overcome by emotion, he
lifts her to her feet; he gazes long into her eyes, reading her
soul there,--then amply, fully, with the whole of his overflowing
heart, grants her prayer: "Farewell, O dauntless, glorious child!
Holy pride of my heart, farewell! Farewell! Farewell! If I must
shun you, if I am never more fond