Then, when he has breathed his last, the hunters place his body upon a shield and bear it away in the rapidly falling dusk, to the slow, mournful accompaniment of a funeral march, whose muffled notes fall like a knell on the listener’s ear.

Gutrune, who has found the day very long indeed without her beloved Siegfried, comes out of her room at nightfall, and listens intently for the sound of the hunting horn which will proclaim his welcome return.  She is not the only watcher, however, for Brunhilde has stolen down to the river, and her apartment is quite empty.

Suddenly Hagen comes in, and Gutrune, terrified at his unexpected appearance, anxiously inquires why she has not heard her husband’s horn.  Without any preparation, roughly, brutally, Hagen informs her the hero is dead, just as the bearers enter and deposit his lifeless body at her feet.

Gutrune faints, but when she recovers consciousness she indignantly refuses to credit Hagen’s story, that her husband was slain by a boar.  She wildly accuses Gunther, who frees himself from suspicion by denouncing Hagen.  Without showing the least sign of remorse, the dark son of Alberich then acknowledges the deed, and, seeing that Gunther is about to appropriate the fatal ring, draws his sword and slays him also.  Wildly now Hagen snatches at the ring, that long coveted treasure; but he starts back in dismay without having secured it, for the dead hand is threateningly raised, to the horror of all the spectators.

Next Brunhilde comes upon the scene, singing a song of vengeance; and when Gutrune wildly accuses her of being the cause of her husband’s murder, she declares that she alone was Siegfried’s lawful wife, and that he would always have been true to her had not Gutrune won him by the ruse of a magic draught.  Sadly Gutrune acknowledges the truth of this statement, and, feeling that she has no right to mourn over the husband of another woman, she creeps over to Gunther’s corpse and bends motionless over him.

Brunhilde’s anger is all forgotten now that the hero is dead, and, after caressing him tenderly for a while, she directs the bystanders to erect a huge funeral pyre.  While they are thus occupied she sings the hero’s dirge, and draws the ring unhindered from his dead hand.  Then she announces her decision to perish in the flames beside him, and declares the Rhine maidens can come and reclaim their stolen treasure from their mingled ashes:—­

   ’Thou guilty ring! 
    Running gold! 
    My hand gathers,
    And gives thee again. 
    You wisely seeing
    Water sisters,
    The Rhine’s unresting daughters,
    I deem your word was of weight! 
    All that you ask
    Now is your own;
    Here from my ashes’
    Heap you may have it!—­
    The flame as it clasps me round
    Free from the curse of the ring!—­
    Back to its gold
    Unbind it again,
    And far in the flood
    Withhold its fire,
    The Rhine’s unslumbering sun,
    That for harm from him was reft.’