Siegfried: soon I’ll wield you as my sword. (#109 or #57?) (He plunges the mould into a bucket of water: steam and loud hissing follow as it cools. #121 chromatic vari:) A river of fire flowed into the water: in furious anger it fiercely hissed. Searingly as it flowed, it flows no more in the water’s flood; [[ #122: ]] rigid and stiff it’s become (:#121 chromatic vari), lordly the tempered steel (#57 or #109?): soon it will flow (:#122) with hot blood!
(#57 or #109?: He thrusts the blade into the forge fire and works the bellows vigorously. #120 >>: Mime has leapt up gleefully; he fetches various containers and from them pours spices and herbs into a cooking-pot, which he tries to place on the hearth.)
Siegfried: (#120:) Now sweat once again, so I can weld you, (#119:; #103 frag:) Nothung, you envied sword (:#119; :#103 frag)!
([[ #123: ]] [#staccato horns again, transitioning into the oscillating figure which identifies “Mime’s sleeping potion”]: While working, he observes Mime, who carefully places his pot over the flames at the other side of the hearth.)
Siegfried: (#122:) What’s that blockhead doing there with his pot (:#122)? (#123:) While I’m smelting steel, are you brewing slops (:#123)?
Mime: (#123 end frag & vari >>:) A smith has been put to shame: his boy is teaching his teacher; the old man’s lost his art [“Kunst”], he serves the child as cook. While he smelts the iron to pulp, the old man cooks him broth from eggs. (…)
Siegfried: (#123 end frag?:; #121 chromatic vari:) Mime the artist [“der Kuenstler”] (#41?:) is learning to cook; (#41?:) he’s lost his taste for forging (:#123 end frag?; :#121 chromatic vari; :#41?): (#103 inverted vari:) I’ve shattered every one of his swords (:#103 inverted vari); what he’s cooking, I’ll not savour.
Two motifs are introduced here, #122 and #123. In point of fact #123 seems to be merely a
