will doubtless fit together: (#103 frag?:) I’ll forge the sword myself (:#103 frag?)! ([[ #103 frag: ]] Scattering mime’s tools, he sets to work impetuously.)
Mime: ([[ #103 frag: ]] [a forceful motif in triplets which one might call “Siegfried’s vital, creative force” or “Siegfried’s creation of himself”]) Had you attentively studied the art, (#41) it would surely have stood you in good stead; [[ #103 frag >>: ]] but you were always lax in your lessons: (#41:) how do you plan to prepare it now?
Siegfried: (#103 frag >>:) Could the lad achieve what the master can’t do, (#41:) even though he had always obeyed him (:#103 frag; :#41)? (He cocks a snook at him.) (#103 frag>>:) Be off with you now, stop meddling here: or you’ll fall in the fire, too.
(#103 frag: He has heaped up a large pile of charcoal on the hearth and keeps the fire going while fixing the fragments of the sword in the vice and filing it down)
Mime: (#103 frag: sitting down to one side and watching Siegfried at work) What are you doing? Here, take the solder: I made the paste some time ago.
Siegfried: (#103 frag>>:) Away with the paste! It’s not what I need: I’ll smelt no sword with pap!
Mime: (#103 frag:) You’re filing the file away and rubbing the rasp to shreds: why pound the steel to pieces?
Siegfried: Spun out into splinters I have to see it: what lies in two, I thus force together.
(#103: He continues filing with great enthusiasm.)
Mime: (aside) No sage can help here, (#103) I see that clearly: here only folly can help the fool! (#103 frag:) How he stirs and mightily strives: the steel’s disappearing and yet he doesn’t grow hot (:#103 frag)!
