sat down together amid the gold, and the gem-stones, and the
fine-wrought treasures there.

"Truly," said the master, "the days of my long waiting are
drawing to a close, and at last the deed shall be done."

And the old look of longing came again into his eyes, and
his pinched face seemed darker and more wrinkled than
before, and his thin lips trembled with emotion as he spoke.

"What is that deed of which you speak?" asked Siegfried.

"It is the righting of a grievous wrong," answered Regin,
"and the winning of treasures untold. Lo, many years have I
waited for the coming of this day; and now my heart tells me
that the hero so long hoped for is here, and the wisdom and
the wealth of the world shall be mine."

"But what is the wrong to be righted?" asked Siegfried. "And
what is this treasure that you speak of as your own?"

"Alas!" answered Regin, "the treasure is indeed mine; and
yet wrongfully has it been withheld from me. But listen a
while to a tale of the early days, and thou shalt know what
the treasure is, and what is the wrong to be righted."

He took his harp and swept the strings, and played a soft,
low melody which told of the dim past, and of blighted
hopes, and of a nameless, never-satisfied yearning for that
which might have been. And then he told Siegfried this