"No other living being but I shall touch her," exclaims the Wälsung, as he draws his sword. "If the Wälsung sword is to be shattered on Hunding's spear, to which I am to fall a victim, it first shall bury itself in her breast and save her from a worse fate!" He poises the sword ready for the thrust above the unconscious _Sieglinde_.
"Hold!" cries _Brünnhilde_, thrilled by his heroic love. "Whatever the consequences which Wotan, in his wrath, shall visit upon me, today, for the first time I disobey him. Sieglinde shall live, and with her Siegmund! Yours the victory over Hunding. Now Wälsung, prepare for battle!"
_Hunding's_ horn-calls sound nearer and nearer. _Siegmund_ judges that he has ascended the other side of the gorge, intending to cross the rocky arch. Already _Brünnhilde_ has gone to take her place where she knows the combatants must meet. With a last look and a last kiss for _Sieglinde_, _Siegmund_ gently lays her down and begins to ascend toward the peak. Mist gathers; storm-clouds roll over the mountain; soon he is lost to sight. Slowly _Sieglinde_ regains her senses. She looks for _Siegmund_. Instead of seeing him bending over her she hears _Hunding's_ voice as if from among the clouds, calling him to combat; then _Siegmund's_ accepting the challenge. She staggers toward the peak. Suddenly a bright light pierces the clouds. Above her she sees the men fighting, _Brünnhilde_ protecting _Siegmund_ who is aiming a deadly stroke at _Hunding_.
At that moment, however, the light is diffused with a reddish glow. In it _Wotan_ appears. As _Siegmund's_ sword cuts the air on its errand of death, the god interposes his spear, the sword breaks in two and _Hunding_ thrusts his spear into the defenceless Wälsung's breast. The second victim of _Alberich's_ curse has met his fate.
With a wild shriek, _Sieglinde_ falls to the ground, to be caught up by _Brünnhilde_ and swung upon the Valkyr's charger, which, urged on by its mistress, now herself a fugitive from _Wotan's_ anger, dashes down the defile in headlong flight for the Valkyr rock.
Act III. The third act opens with the famous "Ride of the Valkyrs," a number so familiar that detailed reference to it is scarcely necessary. The wild maidens of Walhalla coursing upon winged steeds through storm-clouds, their weapons flashing in the gleam of lightning, their weird laughter mingling with the crash of thunder, have come to hold tryst upon the Valkyr rock.