"I am free! Free! Never again will I go back to that loathsome
Nibelung."
A bird in the tree began singing its sweet wood-song.
"How do you do, my little feathered friend!" said Siegfried. "I am sure
what you are singing is very sweet, but I cannot understand your words."
Then Siegfried cut a reed near by, and putting it to his lips, tried to
whistle answers to the little bird's notes.
His music did not sound much like the song of a bird.
"I give it up, my little friend," he said, and threw away the reed.