{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_38654/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_38654","id":"gutenberg_38654","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38654","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Music","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Operas -- Stories, plots, etc. -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, David E. Brown, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 38654-h.htm or 38654-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/38654/pg38654-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/38654/38654-h.zip)\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n      Text in italics is surrounded by underscores (_italics_).\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE MARKET PLACE IN NUREMBURG]\n\n\nEverychild's Series\n\nGREAT OPERA STORIES\n\nTaken from Original Sources in Old German\n\nby\n\nMILLICENT S. BENDER\n\nIllustrated\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNew York\nThe Macmillan Company\n1935\n\nAll rights reserved\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1912,\nBy the Macmillan Company.\n\nSet up and electrotyped. Published September, 1912.\nReprinted March, 1913; June, 1915; January, September,\n1916; November, 1917 July, 1931; November, 1935.\n\nPrinted in the United States of America\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                        PAGE\n\n  CHILDREN OF KINGS                        1\n\n  HAENSEL AND GRETEL                      35\n\n  THE MASTER SINGERS                      57\n\n  LOHENGRIN, THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN      101\n\n  THE FLYING DUTCHMAN                    137\n\n  TANNHAEUSER, THE MINSTREL KNIGHT       156\n\n\n\n\nGREAT OPERA STORIES\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nCHILDREN OF KINGS\n\n\nI\n\nOnce upon a time, in a lonely glade between high mountains far, far\nabove the World of Men, there stood a hut. It was a miserable,\ntumbledown, little hut, and the mosses of many summers clung to its\nsloping roof. It had a bent stovepipe where its chimney should have\nbeen, a slanting board in place of a doorstep, and just one, poor,\nlittle, broken window.\n\nYet it was not its forlorn appearance alone that made the hut hide\nbehind the shadows of the grim forest, far away from the sight of man.\nIt had more, much more than that to be ashamed of. For a hideous Witch\nlived there,--and with her, a Goosegirl.\n\nThey lived alone, those two,--the Goosegirl, with the joy of youth in\nher heart; and the Witch, unmindful of joy or youth, thinking only of\nmagic and evil and hate. While the Goosegirl had been growing from\nbabyhood to girlhood, from girlhood to womanhood, dreaming and wondering\nand wishing,--she knew not what,--the Witch had been trying to make her\nas ugly and as wicked as herself. But try as she would, the heart of the\nGoosegirl was so pure that evil could find no spot in it to lodge. As\nfor her face, each passing year left it lovelier than the last. The\nsunshine was no brighter than her yellow hair, the sky no bluer than her\nclear blue eyes. The lone lily before the hut envied the whiteness of\nher skin, and the birch tree in the woods, the slenderness of her form.\n\nNow it chanced upon a sunny afternoon in summer that the Goosegirl lay\non her back in the long grass before the hut. Now and then she tossed a\nhandful of corn to her quacking geese or played with a wreath of wild\ndaisies. But her thoughts were far away. Her eyes were full of the\nwonder of things,--of the sun that shone, the brook that laughed, the\nflowers that bloomed, the birds that sang, and the blue sky over all.\nAnd her dreams were full of the World of Men, which she had never seen\nand to which she longed to go. Something within her whispered that\nhappiness was to be found there, and the Goosegirl desired happiness\nabove all things. And she desired kindness and love, too, although she\nhad never heard of them, and did not know what they were.\n\nAs far back as she could remember, ever since she was a tiny little\nchild, the Goosegirl had lived in the wretched hut. And the hideous\nWitch had been her only companion. The Goosegirl wondered whether all\nthe people in the World of Men had such gruesome bodies, such ugly\nfaces, such evil ways, as the Witch. She had never seen any one else, so\nshe could not tell. For fear of the Witch no one had ever come that way.\nWinter and summer, summer and winter, it had always been the same.\n\nThe Goosegirl's dreams were suddenly interrupted by the hoarse voice of\nthe Witch.\n\n\"Where are you, good-for-naught?\" came from the doorway. \"Idle, I'll be\nbound, when there's work to be done!\"\n\nThe Goosegirl turned her eyes toward the figure of the Witch, and,\nfamiliar as it was, for the thousandth time she shuddered with disgust.\nThe crooked back, the burning eyes peering out from under the tangled\nhair, the rags, the ugliness,--oh, must she always stay? She arose\nslowly and walked toward the door. With hands outstretched she begged\nthe hideous creature to set her free and to let her go down to the World\nof Men to seek for happiness.\n\n\"I will never become a Witch,\" she implored. \"Oh, please let me go.\"\n\nThe Witch's crooked mouth widened into a horrible smile. One yellow\ntooth stuck out.\n\n\"Not make a Witch of you, indeed! Wait and see! I'll bend your proud\nback!\" Then brandishing her cane, she muttered savagely:\n\n\"Get to work. There's bread to knead!\"\n\nThe frightened Goosegirl ran for bowl and flour, and set to work.\nMeanwhile the Witch took out some dark powders. She mumbled strange\nwords over them, and while the Goosegirl, with busy hands but unseeing\neyes, kneaded and kneaded and kneaded, the Witch poured the powders into\nthe dough. Poor Goosegirl! Her bread was soon finished, but it was a\nfoul-smelling bread, and it contained enough poison to kill a dozen men.\n\nSoon afterward the Witch, chuckling fiendishly, took up her basket and\nhobbled away to the grim forest. But the Goosegirl, full of horror for\nthe deed she had been made to do, sat motionless, staring straight\nahead. Would her life never, never change? With a sigh she called to her\ngeese and wandered back to her place in the grass. Ah, that there should\nbe so much evil in such a beautiful world! She looked at the dancing\nshadows of the fluttering leaves. They were beautiful. There was beauty\nin the thin, blue line of smoke as it climbed lazily upward from the\nbroken chimney. Two turtledoves cooed above her head. The sunlight\nshimmered upon the wings of the buzzing bumblebees and made them shine\nlike gold. All, all was beautiful. Were people the only ugly things? The\nGoosegirl gazed toward the World of Men far, far below, and wondered.\n\nPresently her fingers, wandering idly over the grass, found the wreath\nof daisies. Idly she placed it upon her head.\n\n\"Look at me, geese!\" she cried. \"Look at me! Am I ugly, too?\"\n\nWith the geese at her heels, she ran swiftly toward the pool and peered\nearnestly into its clear depths. Her hair hung in long golden strands on\neach side of her face, her eyes shone like stars, her cheeks were\nflushed.\n\n\"Ah!\" she exclaimed happily. \"I am beautiful! Geese dear, I am\nbeautiful, very beautiful!\" And she gazed and gazed again.\n\nSuddenly a song broke the silence. The Goosegirl started. For it was a\nsong of youth and joy, the like of which she had never heard before in\nall her life.\n\nThen, down from the mountains, out of the woods, straight to that lonely\nglade, came a youth, a ragged youth, but a noble youth, with a sword at\nhis side, a bundle on his back, and a smile on his lips. His bearing was\nso proud, he looked so straight ahead, with eyes both fearless and true,\nthat the Goosegirl held her breath as he halted before her.\n\n\"Hey, pretty Queen of the Geese,\" he said. \"How goes the world with you?\nHave you no greeting for me?\"\n\nThe Goosegirl continued to stare, saying nothing, her eyes wide with\nwonder. Finally she found her voice, and in a whisper just loud enough\nfor him to hear, ventured timidly:\n\n\"Are you a man?\"\n\n\"From top to toe!\" exclaimed the youth, and laughed. How he laughed! He\nthrew back his head, his white teeth gleamed, and the distant hills rang\nwith the joyous sound. Even the Goosegirl was forced to smile at her own\nignorance.\n\nSuch merriment soon made them the best of friends, and before long,\nseated side by side in the grass, the youth told the Goosegirl whence he\nhad come and whither he was roving.\n\nA King's Son was he, of noble name and fortune. High up among the\nmountains stood his father's castle, and there, amid the luxuries of the\ncourt, he had been reared. But when he had grown old enough to wander,\nthe luxury had palled, the court life had fettered his free spirit. \"Up\nand away!\" cried a summons from within his heart. And so, while no one\nwatched, he had stolen forth, with naught but a sword by his side, a\nbundle on his back, and a song on his lips. And he had wandered over\nthe mountains, through the valleys, up and down, in and out, in search\nof adventure.\n\nThe Goosegirl heard the marvelous tale to the end. Then in faltering\ntones, but with shining eyes, she said slowly:\n\n\"Oh, that I might go with you!\"\n\nThe youth smiled scornfully.\n\n\"King's Son and beggar maid!\" exclaimed he, shaking his head. But as he\nlooked into her face he stopped short.\n\nThe nobility of her expression, her simple beauty, drew him nearer. Ah!\nthis was no beggar maid. There was something regal in the pose of that\ngolden head, the glance of those clear blue eyes. What a companion she\nwould make for now and forevermore! He forgot the rags, he forgot the\ngeese, he forgot the hut.\n\n\"Have you courage?\" he asked, gazing at her searchingly.\n\nIn answer she placed her hand in his. So he took off her wreath of\nwhite daisies and placed it within his jacket, close to his heart. And\nhe opened his bundle and drew forth a golden crown, which he placed upon\nher head. Then crying:\n\n\"Up and away!\" he led her to the edge of the grim wood.\n\nAt that instant, however, the sky began to darken with rushing clouds.\nBroad flashes of lightning blazed forth, thunder rolled, and the wind\nblew furiously through the trees. The geese flapped their wings in\nterror and gathered about the Goosegirl. She stood still, staring before\nher in fear. She was turned to stone. She could not move. Her feet were\nfixed to the ground.\n\n\"What makes you stand so still and stare?\" cried the King's Son.\n\n\"Oh, I am afraid!\" answered the Goosegirl. \"I cannot go! I am\nbewitched!\"\n\n\"Fear is but shame,\" declared the King's Son, angrily. \"You have lied to\nme. You are not fit to wander with a King's Son. You are only a beggar\nmaid, after all.\"\n\nThen, overpowered by his wrath, he made ready to go, adding:\n\n\"Farewell. You shall never see me any more. No, never again, unless a\nstar from heaven falls into the lily yonder.\" And pointing to the lone\nlily by the door of the hut, he rushed into the grim forest and was lost\nto sight.\n\n\nII\n\nThe Goosegirl, saddened, disheartened, hid her golden crown and dragged\nherself wearily into the hut. The hideous Witch, returning with her\nvenomous load, soon followed. And evening came. All was still. But for\nthe thin column of smoke rising from the stovepipe one would not have\nknown that any life was there.\n\nJust as the golden edge of the moon peeped over the eastern mountain a\nloud song burst upon the air. And a moment later a Fiddler, clad in\nleather jacket and boots, appeared, emerging from the grim wood. He\nstrode forth boldly as befitted an honest man who had nothing to fear.\nSeeing the miserable, tumbledown hut with its smoking chimney, he\nstopped.\n\n\"Ah, ha!\" cried he. \"Here's the journey's end.\" Then, looking back into\nthe woods and waving his cap, he shouted at the top of his voice:\n\n\"Come on, Master Wood-cutter. Come on, Master Broom-maker. Here's the\nWitch's den. Come on!\"\n\nAnd Master Wood-cutter and Master Broom-maker came on. But how they\ncame! They slunk out of the woods in fear and trembling, teeth\nchattering, knees shaking, eyes bulging. They took but one look at the\ntumbledown hut and then made for the nearest tree, behind which they\ncowered, shivering from head to toe.\n\n\"Not so loud! Not so loud! Master Fiddler, please. She may hear you,\"\nthey protested.\n\n\"Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!\" laughed the Fiddler. \"Don't you want her to hear\nyou? What did you come for, then, pray tell me?\"\n\nAnd so he half dragged, half pushed, the two cowardly braggarts toward\nthe Witch's door.\n\n\"You may knock first,\" said the polite Broom-maker through his\nchattering teeth to the Wood-cutter.\n\n\"No, indeed. You may have the honor,\" responded the Wood-cutter, and his\nknees knocked together as he bowed.\n\nSince there was no way out of it, the Broom-maker moved toward the door.\nHe tapped once with the knuckle of his forefinger, gently, like a little\nmouse. Then in a wee, small voice, he said:\n\n\"Good wife, won't you buy a broom?\"\n\nNo answer came from within the hut.\n\nEmboldened by the silence, Master Wood-cutter joined his comrade at the\ndoor of the hut. Then he, too, rapped a little bit, just like a penny\nhammer.\n\n\"Most honored wise-woman!\" he whispered.\n\nBut no answer came. All was as still as before.\n\n\"There's no one at home,\" said both at once. And they strutted boldly to\nand fro, grinning from ear to ear.\n\n\"Stand aside!\" said the Fiddler.\n\nHe pushed them away and strode toward the door. With his clenched fist\nhe banged once, twice, thrice. And he lifted his voice. My, what a voice\nit was! The very woods rang with the sound of it.\n\n\"Witch! Hag! Foul woman!\" he shouted. \"Open the door!\"\n\nThere was a moment's silence. But presently the door creaked on its\nrusty hinges, and there stood the Witch, in all her ugliness, leaning\nupon a cane.\n\nThe Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker gave her one glance and then,\nstricken with terror, they fled as fast as their legs could carry them\nto the first tree. There they waited, trembling and quaking, to see what\nthe dread creature would do. They would not venture out, no, not they.\nThey had wives and children to care for, and it was no business for men\nof their kind. No, indeed!\n\nMeanwhile the Witch was croaking in her awful voice:\n\n\"Who comes here to my hut in the woods? Hey, fellows, what do you want?\"\n\n\"What do I want?\" mocked the Fiddler, who had bravely stood his ground.\nLooking at her calmly, he dropped on one knee, with a comical smile:\n\n\"Ah, fair dame, those red, red eyes and that one yellow tooth of yours\nhave made me sick with love and longing. Listen to my suit, I pray.\"\n\nThe Witch looked at him in surprise as he rose to his feet. Could it be\nthat he was not afraid of her? He looked her straight in the eyes,\nfearless and brave. So she scowled. He smiled. She shook her cane. He\nlaughed. Well! Well! Her magic was powerless against a man like that.\nLet him tell his tale and be gone.\n\nSo it came to pass that the Fiddler called the Wood-cutter and the\nBroom-maker and bade them state their business. But they bobbed and\nscraped and hemmed and hawed and chattered and giggled so long that the\nFiddler had to come to the rescue.\n\nThe King of the World of Men had died, and since the King's Son had run\naway and could not be found, there was no one to rule the town of\nHellabrun. So the people had sent the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker to\nask the Wise-Witch what was to be done. They wanted a ruler straightway\nand did not know where to find one.\n\nThe Witch pondered long, frowning savagely. Then she told the\nWood-cutter and the Broom-maker to go back and tell the people that the\nfirst person who knocked at the town gate at noon on the morrow would be\nworthy to wear the crown.\n\nPleased with this prophecy the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker hurried\naway through the grim forest toward the town of Hellabrun in the World\nof Men.\n\nBut the Fiddler did not go. He had caught a glimpse of a golden head and\na pair of blue eyes at the window; and the sight of one so fair in such\na hut told him that there was work for him to do here.\n\n\"Why do you stay?\" snarled the Witch. The Fiddler gave her a sharp\nglance.\n\n\"I'm setting a snare for the little golden bird that you keep in the\nhut.\"\n\nThe Witch started. She clenched her fist wrathfully, but her eyes fell\nbefore his steady glance.\n\n\"Let out the golden bird,\" sang the Fiddler, cheerily, \"or I will go in,\nI will go in.\"\n\nThe Witch looked this way and that. She could not meet his eyes.\nMuttering savagely, she hobbled toward the door. A moment later she\ndragged forth the trembling Goosegirl.\n\nThe Fiddler was amazed. Such beauty! Such pride! She was fit to sit upon\na throne!\n\n\"Who are you, maiden?\" he asked. \"And how came you here?\"\n\nSlowly and sadly the words fell from the Goosegirl's lips. She knew not\nwho she was. The Witch had told her to call her \"Grandmother.\" More than\nthat she could not say.\n\nThe Fiddler's eyes traveled from the Goosegirl to the hideous Witch and\nback again. This fair maid kin to that foul creature! No, no, it was not\npossible.\n\nAs if divining his thought, the Witch wagged her head maliciously and\nsneered:\n\n\"No, she is no kin of mine. But worse, far worse. You may know all. A\nhangman's daughter is she; that's it, a hangman's daughter.\"\n\n\"It is not true,\" shouted the Fiddler. Then turning to the weeping\nGoosegirl, he cried:\n\n\"Believe her not. Look at your hands, girl, your white, white hands, and\nyour hair, your golden hair. There's nobility in your face. Believe in\nyourself, and you will sit beside the King's Son on a throne. Be not\nafraid. Pray, girl, pray!\"\n\nThe Goosegirl fell upon her knees and lifted her eyes to heaven. Her\nvoice rose from the depths of her being and cried out to the mother and\nfather whom she had never seen. Her golden hair covered her like a\nmantle, her face was radiant. Still kneeling, she held her crown of gold\ntoward heaven and prayed to God for help, for guidance, for strength.\nAnd as she prayed, a shining star shot from heaven, downward, downward,\nstraight into the lone lily by the door of the hut.\n\nThe Goosegirl uttered a cry of joy. Putting the crown upon her head, she\narose, exclaiming:\n\n\"I'm free! I'm free! I'm free!\"\n\nThen, followed by her geese and the Fiddler, she rushed into the grim\nwood toward the World of Men.\n\n\nIII\n\nWhen morning dawned and the grim wood with all its terrors lay behind\nthe King's Son, he came at last to the town of Hellabrun in the World of\nMen. Weary and footsore, faint from hunger and thirst, yet dauntless\nstill, he stopped before an inn near the town gate and begged for work.\n\n\"I would earn an honest penny,\" he said, \"to buy my daily bread. Have\nyou any work for me?\"\n\nThe innkeeper, who was a rough, ill-natured fellow, smiled with contempt\nas he looked upon the white hands and noble face of the youth before\nhim. So he declared gruffly:\n\n\"All I need is a swineherd!\"\n\n\"A swineherd!\" The voice of the King's Son echoed the loathsome word,\nwhile a look of disgust overspread his face. But only for a moment;\nthen, quick as thought, came the vision of the Goosegirl, so sweet and\nfair despite her humble calling. \"All work is noble to those that are of\nnoble mind,\" thought he. His hand stole to his heart and touched the\nwreath of white daisies there.\n\n\"I will be your swineherd,\" he answered sturdily.\n\nThen he seated himself beneath a tree to await the orders of the\ninnkeeper.\n\nNow it happened to be a day of great excitement in Hellabrun, and as the\nmorning wore away, a chattering, restless crowd of people--men, women,\nand even little children--assembled in the market place. With eager eyes\nthey scanned the two soldiers who, armed with long spears, stood on\nguard before the closed and barred town gate.\n\nThere were lean men and fat men; men in rich clothes and men in rags.\nThere were tinkers and tailors, soldiers and sailors, and their wives\nand their sweethearts. Here were wise doctors in black gowns, there\ngray-bearded counselors leaning upon canes. Wee babes in arms crowed and\nlaughed, boys romped, girls danced. And all awaited the noontide hour\nand the coming of their King.\n\n\"Will he ride upon a snow-white charger?\" asked one.\n\n\"Nay, he will be carried aloft, seated upon a golden throne,\" replied\nanother.\n\n\"His robes will be of richest velvet,\" said a third.\n\n\"And a jeweled crown will be upon his head,\" said a fourth.\n\n\"Perhaps a beautiful queen with ropes of pearls about her neck will sit\nupon the throne at his side,\" ventured a fifth.\n\n\"Tell us again what the Wise-Witch promised,\" called one from the crowd\nto the Wood-cutter and the Broom-maker, who were strutting proudly to\nand fro.\n\nNothing loath, Master Broom-maker and Master Wood-cutter pushed their\nway to the front of the admiring crowd. Then they stood with heads high,\nchests stuck out, feet wide apart and arms waving, and told their story\nfor the fiftieth time. And since with each telling the story had grown\nand grown, it was a marvelous tale, indeed.\n\nThey told of the grim forest and the many dangers through which they had\npassed before they arrived at the Witch's den.\n\n\"The woods were full of lions and tigers,\" said the Wood-cutter.\n\n\"But I felled every one with one mighty blow of my broom,\" said the\nBroom-maker.\n\n\"And an ogre with fiery eyes sat behind each tree; and a dragon snorting\nsteam held guard before the den of the Witch. But we feared them not. We\nslew them all. We went so boldly forward that the Witch quaked and hid\nherself in fear when she saw us coming.\"\n\n\"'Tis not truth that you speak,\" cried out a young voice, and the crowd\nfell back amazed at the sight of the King's Son. Who was this ragged\nfellow who dared to interrupt the thrilling story? Down with him! And\nthey beat him with their sticks and pelted him with stones and called\nhim names. But just as they were about to drive him from the market\nplace the town clock struck the hour.\n\nA sudden hush fell upon the crowd. The people stood still. With eager,\nexpectant faces turned toward the gate they waited, while the bell\npealed forth its twelve long notes. Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!\n\nIt was noon!\n\nThe guards pulled out the long bolts. An excited murmur came from the\ncrowd. Then all was still, as still as before. The guards turned the\nhuge knobs. The door swung on its hinges, and there stood--a Goosegirl\nand her flock of geese. Her feet were bare. Her dress was tattered and\ntorn. But her shining hair covered her like a mantle, and a golden\ncrown was upon her head. Her cheeks were red. Her eyes, glowing as from\nan inner light, sought among the sea of faces, and found that of the\nKing's Son alone. Then, with arms outstretched, she walked slowly toward\nhim, crying softly:\n\n\"I have come to be your Queen.\"\n\nQueen! The breathless crowd stared in amazement one moment longer. Then\nthe amazement gave way to laughter, the laughter to anger, the anger to\nfury.\n\n\"Ha-ha-ha! This is no queen!\" they shouted angrily. \"We have been\nfooled. This is only a Goosegirl. Strike her! Beat her!\"\n\nThe King's Son enfolded the Goosegirl in his arms.\n\n\"Stop!\" he cried to the mob. \"I am a King's Son, and she is my Queen.\"\n\n\"Listen to the ragged fellow!\" shouted the people. \"He says he is a\nKing's Son! Ha-ha-ha! Stone them! Hit them! A Swineherd! A Goosegirl!\nDrive them out! Out! Out!\"\n\nAnd so the King's Son and the Goosegirl were driven away from the town\nof Hellabrun, and the angry people returned in disappointment to their\nhomes. Only one little pure-hearted girl lingered at the town gate and\ngazed with eyes of faith after the fleeing pair. When she could see them\nno longer, she fell upon the ground and wept and wept.\n\n\"Why do you cry, little girl?\" she was asked.\n\n\"Oh, that was the King,\" she sobbed--\"the King and his bride.\"\n\n\nIV\n\nDuring all the long summer days the King's Son and the Goosegirl\nwandered over hill and dale, through field and forest, far away from the\nWorld of Men. And the King's Son shielded the Goosegirl with his love\nand brought her berries to eat and the skins of wild animals to rest\nupon, and was gentle, oh, very gentle! And the Goosegirl made the King's\nSon glad with the sight of her beauty and the sound of her light-hearted\nlaughter. And they were happy with a happiness that surpassed all that\nthey had ever felt or dreamed.\n\nBut then autumn came. The wind moaned piteously through the trees,\ndriving brown leaves in whirling gusts before their eyes. Winter\nfollowed, covering the grim woods with a mantle of shining white. Their\nclothes were thin. Their feet were bare, and it was cold--bitter, bitter\ncold. So they wandered on and on, day after day, until at last, faint\nwith hunger, sick with despair, they came, all unknowingly, to the\nlonely glade between the high mountains where the Witch's hut stood.\n\nThe hideous Witch was no longer there. Because they believed she had\nprophesied falsely, the infuriated people of Hellabrun had burned her at\nthe stake. Only the Broom-maker and the Wood-cutter were in the\nmiserable tumble-down hut; while out in the grim forest were the Fiddler\nand the one pure-hearted little girl, seeking, ever seeking, with eyes\nof faith for the rightful King and Queen.\n\nWith steps that faltered, and eyes half closed, the King's Son and the\nGoosegirl crept into the glade. Tottering feebly, hand in hand, they\napproached the door of the hut, and knocking, begged for shelter, for\nfood, for drink.\n\nThe face of the Wood-cutter appeared at the window for a brief moment.\nBlinded by his distrust, he saw only two beggar children before the\ndoor.\n\n\"Away with you! We have naught to give,\" he shouted as he slammed the\nbroken shutter.\n\nHopelessly, sadly, the King's Son bore the Goosegirl to the snow-covered\nmound beneath the linden tree. Whither could he turn to get his loved\none food? Ah, foolish, foolish King's Son who would not rule, who could\nnot beg!\n\nThe Goosegirl, clinging to him tenderly, felt his despair, saw his eyes\nfill with tears. Crying out that she was not ill, but was well and\nstrong, she rose to her feet. To cheer him, she tripped lightly to and\nfro, singing a gay little song. Faster and faster twinkled her little\nfeet, brighter and brighter grew her smiles. But weaker and weaker\nbecame her voice, paler and paler her face, until she fell, fainting,\ninto the snow.\n\nThen the King's Son rushed to her and took her in his arms. He wrapped\nhis cloak about her and carried her back to the mound. She opened her\neyes and smiled.\n\n\"King! My King!\" she whispered.\n\nLike a flash the King's Son remembered his crown. He opened the bundle\nand took it out.\n\n\"Do not sell your crown, O King!\" murmured the Goosegirl.\n\n\"I will! I must!\" replied the King's Son. \"It will bring you bread.\"\n\nHe arose hastily, broke the shining crown into pieces, and ran toward\nthe hut.\n\nRap! Rap! Rap! \"Let me in!\" he cried impatiently.\n\n\"Do you want to break down the door?\" replied the Broom-maker, appearing\nat the window.\n\n\"I care not,\" answered the King's Son. \"Here is gold. Now will you give\nme bread?\"\n\nGold? The greedy eyes of the Broom-maker gave the glittering fragments\none glance. Then he called the Wood-cutter. And they whispered, and they\nsearched all through the miserable hut until they found the poisoned\nbread, the foul-smelling bread, which the Goosegirl had made as the\nWitch had directed on that bright summer day long, long ago.\n\nWith it in their hands they ran to the window. They handed it to the\nKing's Son, and he gave them gold, his golden crown, in its stead.\n\nThe King's Son snatched the loaf and ran joyfully toward the mound and\nfell at the Goosegirl's feet, crying:\n\n\"I'm bringing bread, dear one! bread! Take it! Eat it!\"\n\n\"Not I alone,\" answered the Goosegirl. \"You, too.\"\n\nSo they broke the bread in two, and, laughing happily, they ate it\neagerly. They ate it all to its bitter, bitter end. Then, clasped in\neach other's arms, they lay down to sleep and dreamed of rosy clouds of\nglory wafting them toward sunny lands of everlasting bliss; and\ndreaming, slept and--knew no more. And the snowflakes fell softly,\nsilently, and covered them with a shining robe of fleeciest white.\n\nA little later, the Fiddler and the little pure-hearted girl, followed\nby a troop of children, entered the glade, all seeking, still seeking\nwith eyes of faith, for the rightful King and Queen. As they approached\nthe snow-covered mound the snow suddenly ceased falling; and the sunset\nglow from the west shone down and revealed the Kingly Children asleep\nforevermore.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nHAENSEL AND GRETEL\n\n\nI\n\nLong ago, in half-forgotten days, a little hut stood at the edge of a\ngreat forest. It was rather a meek, shamefaced little hut, for the\nforest was great and beautiful, and the hut was small and ugly. Still,\nit had a glowing fireplace inside, and a brick chimney on top, and it\nwas somebody's home, which--after all--is the principal thing.\n\nA broom-maker named Peter lived there with his wife Gertrude and their\ntwo children, Haensel and Gretel. The broom-maker was poor, oh, very,\nvery poor, and that is why his home was not beautiful to see. But he was\nan honest, upright man who loved his family, and had he been able, I am\nsure, he would have housed them in a marble palace. Unfortunately,\nhowever, the broom-making business had been unusually poor that year.\n\nIndeed, on the very day that our story begins, Peter and his wife were\nboth away from home in quest of work, and only Haensel and Gretel were\nto be seen inside the hut.\n\nLest you should not know, it might be well to mention that Haensel was\nthe boy. He was busily engaged--or, at least, he was supposed to be--in\nmaking brooms, while Gretel, the girl, had her knitting in hand. But it\nwas extremely difficult to keep their thoughts or their eyes, either,\nupon such stupid work. Each breeze that blew in through the open window\nbrought an invitation from the fascinatingly sunlit grassy spot before\nthe door. Even the trees in the forest beyond beckoned to them with\ntheir tall branches.\n\nBesides, there was another cause for rebellion on that particular\nafternoon. To tell the truth, the children were hungry. Moreover, since\nthere seemed to be absolutely nothing in the house to eat, it was quite\nlikely that they would remain hungry, which was the worst part of all.\n\nHaensel, after the manner of boys, threw his work into the farthest\ncorner of the room and fairly shouted:\n\n\"I just wish Mother would come home! I'm hungry, that's what I am. For a\nweek I've eaten nothing but bread, and little of that. Oh, Gret, it\nwould be such a treat if we had something good to eat!\"\n\nNow Gretel, as it happened, was every bit as hungry as he, but, after\nthe manner of girls, she sought to comfort him.\n\n\"Don't be an old crosspatch,\" she said. \"If you'll stop complaining,\nI'll tell you a secret. But you must smile first!\"\n\nHaensel smiled.\n\nShe went on:\n\n\"Do you see that jug over there on the table? Well--it's full of milk.\nSomebody left it here. And if you're good, Mother will stew rice in it\nwhen she comes home.\"\n\nHaensel had heard such stories before.\n\n\"Don't believe it,\" said he. \"It's too good to be true.\"\n\nNevertheless he went to see. And when his eyes assured him that what was\nin the jug really looked like milk, he was overcome with the temptation\nto find out whether it tasted like milk, also. First he gave a sly\nglance at Gretel and then down went his forefinger into the jug!\n\n\"Haensel! aren't you ashamed, you greedy boy? Out with your finger!\" For\nGretel had caught him in the act.\n\n\"Get back to your work in a hurry, for you know if Mother comes before\nwe've finished, there'll be trouble.\"\n\nHaensel, however, was not inclined toward work that afternoon. In fact,\nhe was in a very rebellious mood, altogether.\n\n\"Don't let's work,\" suggested he. \"Let's dance.\"\n\nNow you must remember that Gretel was only a little girl with twinkling\nfeet that loved to dance and a merry voice that loved to sing. So do not\njudge her too harshly, even though she quickly dropped her tiresome\nknitting.\n\nTheir wooden shoes--for they were the style in those days--clattered\nover the board floor; they clapped their hands, their childish voices\nrang out, and they had, all in all, a most beautiful time. They forgot\ntheir empty stomachs; they forgot their aching fingers. Gretel, who was\nclever in such things, taught Haensel some new steps. And he, less\nawkward than usual, learned them so quickly that Gretel praised him for\nhis aptness. Her words made him as proud as a peacock. He seized her\nhands in both of his own. Round and round they whirled, faster and\nfaster, until suddenly, losing their balance, they fell, laughing\nloudly, in one heap on the floor.\n\nAnd then--the door opened.\n\n\"Gracious goodness!\" they cried. \"It's Mother!\" And up they jumped in\ndouble-quick time.\n\nYes, it was Mother, and an angry Mother at that.\n\n\"What does this mean?\" she exclaimed, \"all the noise and clatter? Where\nis your work, you good-for-nothing children?\"\n\nThe children, half penitent, wholly frightened, looked at each other.\nHaensel blamed Gretel, Gretel blamed Haensel.\n\nThe Mother blamed them both. She scolded, she raged, she brandished a\nstick, and I confess I am afraid to think of what her anger might have\nled her to do next. But just at that moment, in her excitement, she gave\nthe milk jug a push, and down it went, breaking into a thousand pieces,\nwith the precious milk running in little streams all over the floor.\nThat was the last straw! What was there left to be cooked for supper?\n\nThe furious woman snatched a basket from a nail on the wall. She thrust\nit into Gretel's hand.\n\n\"Off with you both to the wood!\" she cried. \"And hurry up, too! Pick\nstrawberries for supper! If the basket isn't full, you'll get a\nwhipping. Yes, that's what you'll get.\" She shook her fist to make the\nadmonition more impressive.\n\nScarcely had they gone, however, when the woman, completely exhausted,\nsat down by the table and began to weep and moan. You see, she was\nreally not an ill-natured woman at all. Poverty had embittered her, and\nthe mere thought that her children might be starving, caused her to lose\nentire control of her feelings. It had been a long, wearisome, and\ndisappointing day, and now, even at its end, her own irritability had\ncaused another calamity. Angry with herself, the world, and everything,\nshe rested her head on her arms and sobbed herself to sleep.\n\nDo you know the old verse, \"It is always darkest just before dawn\"? Now,\nif the mother had been patient only a little longer, all would have\nbeen well. But then there would have been no story to tell.\n\nThe mother was still sleeping when the father came home. He was singing\njoyfully, and he awoke her with a kiss.\n\n\"See,\" he cried happily, \"my brooms are all sold. There was a festival\nin the town to-day, and every one must needs be clean. Such a sweeping\nand a dusting and a cleaning! I drove a roaring trade, I tell you. So,\nhere's butter and eggs and ham and sausage. And tea, too. Hurry up, good\nwife, and get supper ready!\"\n\nThe mother packed away the things. She lighted the fire. She hustled and\nbustled about. Suddenly the father, missing the children, inquired:\n\n\"Where are Haensel and Gretel?\" He went to the door to call.\n\n\"Don't call,\" answered the mother. \"They were naughty, and I sent them\nto the woods in disgrace.\"\n\n\"The woods!\" exclaimed the father, and his voice was full of horror.\n\n\"It is growing dark,\" he said, \"and my children are in those gloomy\nwoods without stars or moon to guide them! Don't you know that there is\nenchantment in those woods? Don't you know that the Witch walks there?\"\nHis voice sank to a whisper.\n\n\"Which witch?\" asked the woman, thoroughly alarmed.\n\n\"The Crust Witch, the gobbling Witch! She who rides on a broomstick at\nthe midnight hour, when no one is abroad, over hill and vale, over moor\nand dale!\"\n\n\"Oh! Oh! Oh! but what does she gobble?\"\n\n\"Have you never heard? All day long, she stalks around, with a\ncrinching, crunching, munching sound and lures little children with\ngingerbread sweet. She lures little children, the poor little things,\ninto her oven, all red-hot; then she shuts the lid down, pop,\npop!--until they're done brown.\"\n\n\"Oh, horror!\" cried the mother, wringing her hands. \"Oh, what shall we\ndo?\"\n\n\"Go seek them!\" said the father.\n\nAnd in another moment without hats, shawl, anything, they had run out of\nthe hut.\n\n\nII\n\nThe sunset glow lighted the forest. It bathed the stately trees in rose\nand gold. It shone on the cool carpet of leaves and wild flowers, and\nplayed with the garlands of bright-colored vines.\n\nBut the purple mist of twilight that hung over the distant fir-colored\nhill sent gray shadows down. They crept behind the hedges and bushes,\nwarning the birds, the bees, and the flowers that night was drawing\nnigh.\n\nOne lingering ray of sunshine lit the mossy rock upon which Gretel sat.\nShe was weaving a wreath of wild flowers and singing a little song,\nwhile Haensel ran hither and thither, filling his basket with red\nstrawberries.\n\nSo, if you have imagined that they were at all unhappy, you see you were\nquite mistaken. Indeed, they were entirely, wonderfully, breathlessly\nhappy. I doubt if they gave their mother's scolding a single thought. As\nfor their home, they had quite forgotten all about it, which, for aught\nI know, may have been part of the enchantment. At any rate, they had\nnever had a better time.\n\nWhen Haensel's basket was full, Gretel's wreath was finished. So they\nplayed at being king and queen of the wood, and Gretel wore the wreath,\nand Haensel knelt in homage before her, presenting her with the basket\nof berries. Whereupon, as a reward, she gave him some of the ripest ones\nto taste. Soon tiring of this they went on to another game. A cuckoo\ncalled from a tree near by, and they imitated his call, seeking each\nother behind tall tree trunks. But saddest of all to tell, they ate the\nstrawberries while they played--yes, every single one.\n\nWhen they attempted to find fresh ones, they discovered that it had\ngrown too dark. There were black shadows under the hedges and bushes\nnow. A gray blanket of clouds was spread over the sky.\n\nThen fear came. For they could not find their way. Gretel saw strange\nfigures glimmering behind the birches. She saw strange faces grinning at\nher from every mossy tree stump. Now it was Haensel who sought to\ncomfort her. A mist arose and shut them in. Advancing dimly through it,\nthey spied a lantern. Haensel said it was a will-o'-the-wisp. They heard\na call. He said it was the echo.\n\nWhen Gretel began to whimper and cry, Haensel held her fast in his arms.\nBut the shadows of strange things continued to nod and beckon. One\nshadow grew and grew and grew. It moved toward them, and both children\ncowered down in fear. Their eyes never left it.\n\nSuddenly the shadow took shape, and there stood an odd little gray man.\nHe had a long white beard. He leaned on a staff, and he carried a sack\non his back. Strange to say, the moment that the children saw his calm\nsmile and his friendly gestures they were not afraid any more. He came\ntoward them, chanting a quiet song about restful sleep and happy dreams.\nBefore they knew what he was about, he had sprinkled sand into their\ntired eyes. Then Haensel and Gretel folded their hands and sleepily\nwhispered their evening prayer. With their arms about each other's necks\nthey sank slowly into the soft moss and soon were fast asleep.\n\nThe little man disappeared as he had come, into the mist. But the mist\nbecame roseate. It rolled itself into a fleecy cloud, which mounted\nhigher and higher until it touched the sky. What magic was this? It\nchanged again into a marvelous golden stairway! And down the stairway\nfloated beautiful guardian angels with dazzling wings and golden wands.\nThey grouped themselves about the sleeping children, at their heads, at\ntheir feet, all about them. Waving their golden wands, they sent down\nshowers of wonderful dreams. Oh, such gleaming, glistening, unutterable\ndreams!\n\n\nIII\n\nScarcely had the sun peeped over the eastern horizon than the Dew Fairy\ncame fluttering into the woodland. Her wings were tinged with the first\nblush of dawn and her garments were tipped with rosy light. She carried\narmfuls of bluebells, and as she flitted lightly about, sweet music\nrippled on the air. How she smiled when she saw Haensel and Gretel\nasleep under the tall fir tree!\n\n\"Up, ye sleepers! Awake! Awake!\" she sang. Then, sprinkling dew from the\nbluebells into their eyes, she vanished into the sunlit air.\n\nGretel rubbed her eyes sleepily and raised herself from the moss. Was\nshe still in the beautiful greenwood? Ah, yes, she must be there. For\nbirds were merrily chirping overhead. There were glimpses of bright blue\nsky between the leaf-laden branches.\n\n\"Wake up, lazy bones!\" she called to Haensel.\n\nHe jumped up with a start, stretched himself, yawned once or twice,\nlooked about. Oh, the wonderful, wonderful forest!\n\nThe sun had mounted higher in the sky. The woods were filled with a\nmellow radiance. The morning mists had cleared away. And, most\nastonishing of all, on the very hill so lately hidden by dark trees and\nfleecy clouds, they beheld a most entrancing sight.\n\nA house stood there. But such a house! It was as beautiful--as\nbeautiful,--in short, I am afraid to tell you how undescribably\nbeautiful it was. The walls were of sweetest sugar candy, glistening\nlike diamonds in the sun; the roof was of chocolate cake, all soft and\ncreamy; and the gables were ornamented with raisins, like little eyes.\nOn one side there was a strange-looking cage; on the other, a huge,\nstrange-looking oven; and both were joined to the house by a fence made\nof the daintiest gingerbread figures imaginable.\n\n\"Oh,\" cried Haensel, \"did you ever see anything so wonderful?\"\n\n\"No, I never did,\" answered Gretel. \"A princess must live in that.\"\n\nThey stared and stared, while their mouths watered and their fingers\nitched prodigiously.\n\nHaensel wished to go boldly inside, but the mere thought of doing\nanything so rash frightened Gretel.\n\n\"Well, the angels led us here,\" reflected Haensel.\n\n\"Ye-es, that's true, they did,\" conceded Gretel.\n\n\"Come on. Let's just nibble a little bit,\" tempted Haensel.\n\nAnd so, hand in hand, they hopped along, like two little mice, toward\nthe magic house. Then they stole cautiously forward on tiptoe, until,\nat length, they were within reaching distance. Haensel's hand went out.\nHe broke off a bit.\n\nQuick as lightning came a squeaking voice from the inside:\n\n  \"Nibble, nibble, mousekin,\n  Who's nibbling at my housekin?\"\n\nHaensel started back in fear.\n\n\"'Twas only the wind,\" said Gretel. \"Let's taste it.\"\n\nThey did. Since it tasted better than anything they had ever eaten\nbefore, they feasted merrily for a while, never heeding the voice of the\nWitch or her ugly form, either, which, a little later, appeared at the\ndoor. I have no doubt that they would be feasting yet, if the Witch had\nnot then and there stealthily stolen upon them. With a deft movement she\nthrew a rope about Haensel's neck and held him fast.\n\nThe children's delight turned to terror. For she was a loathsome sight\nto see. Bent, toothless, with unkempt hair and clawlike hands, she\nlooked the picture of a Witch indeed.\n\nIn spite of her appearance, however, she spoke to them in a very kindly\nmanner. She called them pretty names, told them that they were nice and\nplump, and that they would make excellent gingerbread. She even caressed\nHaensel, which made him very angry. Wriggling and squirming, he managed\nto loosen the rope and seizing Gretel by the hand, ran--alas! only a\nshort distance. For the Witch, holding aloft a juniper branch, circled\nit in the air, repeating these strange words:\n\n  \"Hocus, pocus, witch's charm,\n  Move not, as you fear my arm!\"\n\nThe children stood stock-still. They were stiff from head to toe.\nFortunately, by this time they had undergone so many strange adventures\nthat they had learned fairly well how to conduct themselves.\n\n\"Watch carefully all she does!\" whispered Haensel, as the Witch led him\naway to the cage and gave him nuts and raisins to fatten him.\n\n\"I will,\" said Gretel.\n\nTherefore, when, a few moments later, the Witch disenchanted her in\norder that she might prepare the table, Gretel listened attentively to\nthe words:\n\n  \"Hocus, pocus, elder bush,\n  Rigid body, loosen hush!\"\n\nNo sooner had Gretel run into the house than the Witch was seized with a\nfit of wild joy. She thrust more fagots into the fire, laughing wickedly\nwhen the flames flared higher and higher. She mounted her broomstick and\nrode about, shouting a weird song.\n\nGretel watched her from the doorway. That broomstick ride gave her an\nopportunity. She stole to the cage, and, whispering,\n\n  \"Hocus, pocus, elder bush,\n  Rigid body, loosen hush!\"\n\nshe set Haensel free. But he did not move. No, not yet.\n\nFor the Witch had come back. She was rubbing her hands with glee. Her\nface wore an evil smile. Oh, the fine meal she would have! Haensel was\nnot plump enough. Gretel must be eaten first. So, opening the oven door,\nshe called Gretel and told her to look inside. But clever Gretel\npretended not to understand. Would not the Witch show her how? Angry,\nimpatient, muttering to herself, the Witch crept nearer to the oven, and\nwhen she was about to bend over it, Haensel and Gretel gave her one\ngood, hard push from behind. She toppled over and fell in. Bang! bang!\nwent the door. She was safe inside.\n\nHow the fire crackled and roared. A moment later there was a great crash\nand the oven fell to pieces. Haensel and Gretel, much terrified, started\nto run away, but found themselves, to their great surprise, entirely\nsurrounded by a troop of little children.\n\n\"It's the fence,\" exclaimed Haensel, \"the gingerbread fence!\"\n\nAnd so it was. The gingerbread had fallen off, and real children stood\nthere, motionless, with closed eyes, murmuring softly:\n\n  \"Oh, touch us, we pray,\n  That we may all awake!\"\n\n\"Pooh! if that's all they want!\" said Gretel, proudly, and she repeated:\n\n  \"Hocus, pocus, elder bush,\n  Rigid body, loosen hush!\"\n\nInstantly life came back to the whole troop. They hurried toward Haensel\nand Gretel from all sides. They danced, they sang! Two boys ran to the\noven and dragged out the Witch in the form of a big gingerbread cake.\nThen the merrymaking began in earnest. They made a big circle, and round\nand round it they danced. Last but not least, they ate up the candy\nhouse. At any rate, that is what they were doing when their mothers and\nfathers found them there that afternoon.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE MASTER SINGERS\n\n\nI\n\nAcross the wide sea, amid the green hop fields of southern Germany, is\nthe old, old city of Nuremberg. Shut off from the busy world outside by\nits great wall of stone, it has stood unchanged through all the passing\ncenturies. There are the same narrow, crooked streets leading to the\npublic squares, where quaintly carved stone fountains stand. There are\nthe same many gabled, lofty houses, with oriole windows that open\noutward. There are latticed doorways with plaster figures that beckon\nand bless and welcome. And the gray castle, the grass-grown moat, the\ndark, pillared church, all tell stories of the days of long ago.\n\nIn those days men dreamed dreams and sang songs as they sat on the bench\nor in the market place. The cobbler at his last, the baker before the\noven, the silversmith by the fire, even the little apprentice, watching\nand learning, looked out upon a fair world and found it good. So while\nhands were busy, thoughts roved far and wide, and fancy wove many a song\nto sing by the fireside on wintry nights.\n\nBut not only by the fireside were those songs sung in the days when\nNuremberg was young. The good people there prized the Art of Song too\nhighly for that alone.\n\n\"Though a man's lot be humble,\" they said, \"his thoughts may be rich in\nfancy; he may have a song to sing.\" So they formed a guild devoted to\nthe cultivation of poetry and music, and the members of this guild were\ncalled Master Singers. Every man who wished to enter the guild was\nobliged to write some verses,--according to the rules of the guild; and\nto compose appropriate music for those verses,--according to the rules\nof the guild; and, finally, to sing them both together,--according to\nthe rules of the guild. Then if the masters approved of his performance,\nhe became one of the Master Singers of Nuremberg. And great was the\nhonor conferred upon him when he reached this high estate! Many had\ntried, but few had been chosen. Indeed, the entire guild was composed of\nbut twelve members. These were, for the most part, worthy men, devoted\nto their trades and to music. And each one had a boy apprenticed to him,\nto whom he taught cobbling or soap-making or baking or tailoring by day,\nand the Art of Song by night.\n\nAmong the Master Singers of Nuremberg none is better remembered than\nHans Sachs. He was a cobbler by trade and a poet by nature, and his\nsongs and verses have outlived his boots by many a year. It is of his\npart in a song festival of the Master Singers hundreds of years ago that\nour story has to tell.\n\n\nII\n\nIt began on the day before the feast of St. John in St. Catherine's\nChurch, which was really not the proper place for a love affair to begin\nat all. But what did Eva Pogner or Sir Walter von Stolzing care for\nthat? The only thing that mattered to them was the joyous Springtime\nwhich had stolen in through the open chancel window and had warmed their\nhearts toward everything in the world,--but most of all toward each\nother.\n\nSir Walter stood leaning against a great stone pillar at the back of the\nchurch. He wore a blue velvet suit, his hat had a long white plume, and\nhe was as handsome a young knight as one could ever wish to see.\n\nPretty Eva sat in the last pew with her maid Magdalena by her side. Her\nhead was bent, and her eyes were upon her prayer book, as befitted a\nmodest maiden. Still she saw Sir Walter very plainly. In fact, somehow,\nshe caught every message that his dark eyes sent across the church. And\nher cheeks turned rosy, and her heart grew warmer than ever the\nSpringtime had made it. Indeed, those glances so confused her that she\nlost her place in the hymn book. Magdalena noticed it and nudged her\nmistress sharply. So Eva sent one glance back to the fascinating young\nknight, just a little frightened one; and then she joined in the closing\nhymn. But when she lifted up her joyous young voice and made it ring\nhigh above all the rest, Sir Walter stared harder than ever.\n\nThe young knight had loved this light-hearted maiden since he had first\nseen her in her father's house. And his only wish was to win her for his\nbride. But how? Suppose she were already promised to some one else!\n\nWhile these mingled thoughts of joy and doubt possessed him, a ray of\nsunshine crept into the dark church. It lingered on Eva's head, making a\nhalo of her golden hair. A moment later he saw two eyes, mirroring some\nof the sky's own blue, dart him a shy glance. And he heard a voice so\nsweet that he was sure the angels themselves stood still to listen. Come\nwhat might, thought he, he would speak to her that very day.\n\nThe service was over. One by one the people filed slowly between the\ndark pillars, and out of the church, into the bright sunshine. Only Eva\nand Magdalena lingered, smiling and chatting with friends and neighbors\nas they walked slowly along. As they approached the pillar behind which\nSir Walter stood, he stepped forward. The long, white plume of his hat\nswept the floor as he bowed in greeting.\n\n\"One word, my fair maid, I entreat,\" he began.\n\nStrange to say, the moment Eva heard his voice she discovered that she\nhad forgotten her handkerchief. Perhaps it was in the pew. Magdalena\nmust return for it.\n\nThen, with the maid safely out of hearing, Eva turned her mischievous\nface to Sir Walter. She was ready to listen, so he spoke. Did Eva look\nupon him with favor? Might he hope? Scarcely were the words out of his\nmouth, when Magdalena was back again, handkerchief in hand.\n\n\"Come, Eva,\" she said; \"it is growing late.\"\n\nBut Eva was in no hurry, with this gallant cavalier close at hand.\nPerhaps he wished to tell her a beautiful story. Had Magdalena seen her\nscarfpin? It was gone. Was it there on the floor?\n\n\"Good Lena, go back and find it,\" said the artful Eva.\n\nAnd Lena went back, grumbling, and searched here, there, and everywhere.\n\nMeanwhile Sir Walter improved his opportunity. The words hurried to his\nlips. He begged Eva to tell him whether light and happiness, or gloom\nand doubt, were to be his portion.\n\nThe answering words were trembling on Eva's lips ready to be spoken. But\nthere stood the ubiquitous Magdalena again, with the scarfpin!\n\n\"We must go home,\" she said. \"Come. Here's your kerchief and your pin.\nBut where's my prayer book? Oh, alackaday! I've left it in the pew!\"\n\nBack she bustled once more.\n\nThese interruptions served to make Sir Walter more impatient than ever.\nWould he never be able to make love in peace? He took a long breath,\nleaned forward, and whispered eagerly: \"May I hope? Or are you promised\nto some one else?\"\n\nAnd for answer, while Eva hid her eyes for fear they would tell of her\nlove too soon, there was Magdalena again!\n\n\"Yes, Sir Walter,\" said Magdalena, and she curtsied low, wishing to be\nmost polite to this handsome young man.\n\n\"Yes, Sir Walter,\" she repeated. \"Our Eva is betrothed.\"\n\nBetrothed? Sir Walter was stunned into silence; misery spread itself\nlike a black cloud over his face. Nor did the reply please Miss Eva,\neither. She quickly interrupted, saying:\n\n\"But no one knows who the bridegroom will be. No, not until to-morrow.\"\n\nSir Walter knit his brows. That was amazing! Was it a puzzle? What did\nit mean?\n\nEva and Magdalena hastened to explain. After all, it was very simple.\n\nOut in the meadows near Nuremberg a song festival was to be held\nto-morrow. It was to be a great singing match. And Eva's father had\npromised part of his fortune, and his daughter besides, to the singer\nwho should win the prize. Eva herself was to crown the victor with a\nwreath of laurel. \"But,\" they continued, \"he must be a Master Singer. No\none may even try for the prize who is not a member of the guild.\"\n\n\"Are you not a Master Singer, Sir Walter?\" inquired Eva, timidly, and\nit was plain that she wished with all her heart to hear him say yes.\n\nPoor Sir Walter! Until that moment he had never heard of the Master\nSingers. As for the song contest, he never even knew that there was to\nbe such a thing. What was to be done? Could no one help? Walter was in\ndespair, and Eva, who by this time knew the man she wished to marry, was\non the verge of tears.\n\nA shaft of light streamed across the church. The door was opened, then\nclosed with a bang. A youth ran in hastily. He noticed no one. He wore a\nbusinesslike air, as he hurried this way and that. He was David,\napprentice to Hans Sachs, the shoemaker.\n\nFrom the expression on Magdalena's face when she saw David, it was easy\nto see how matters stood! Her heart was affected, too, and David was the\ncause. She looked at him admiringly a moment, then gave a little cough.\nDavid started. He hastened toward her, smiling and holding out his\nhands. Ah! it was his own true love, Lena! But she must not detain him.\nHe was busy. There was to be a trial meeting.\n\n\"A trial meeting!\" exclaimed Magdalena, joyfully. \"Just the thing!\" Now\nthe handsome knight would have a chance. She beamed happily upon David.\n\"You must explain everything to him!\" she cried, and whispered the\ndirections eagerly.\n\nBut Mr. David was stubborn. He had no time. There was the platform to be\nset, the curtains to be hung, the chairs and the benches to be arranged.\nAnd it was late.\n\n\"David, dear David,\" coaxed Lena, with her face close to his, \"if you'll\nhelp Sir Walter to become a Master Singer, I'll bring you a basket full\nof the best things you ever ate.\"\n\nAnd before David had time to refuse, the clever Lena had seized Eva's\nhand and had hurried with her from the church.\n\nScarcely were they gone, than with a great shouting the jolly\napprentices danced into the church. They hopped and skipped about,\njoking and laughing, as they made ready for the meeting. They pulled one\nanother's hair, they played leapfrog over the chairs, they pushed, they\nshoved, but they worked, too, and in a twinkling the church was\ntransformed into a meeting place. There stood the marker's platform, for\nall the world like a great box, with black curtains on all four sides.\nTo the right of it were the benches for the masters, and in plain view\nof all was the great chair for the candidate.\n\nSir Walter had, all unconsciously, seated himself in the great chair.\nHis eyes stared moodily ahead. He heard nothing, saw nothing, of all the\nfun about him. He was buried in deepest gloom. He had promised Eva that\nhe would become a poet, a singer, for her sake, and he wished to do so,\nbut where and how was he to begin? Her father would not allow her to\nmarry any one but a Master Singer. How could he become a Master Singer\nin one day?\n\nWhile these thoughts passed through the young knight's mind, young David\nstood watching. Suddenly he shouted:\n\n\"Now begin!\"\n\nWalter gave a jump.\n\n\"Eh, what?\" he stuttered.\n\n\"Begin the song,\" said David. \"That's what the marker says, and then you\nmust sing up. Don't you know that?\"\n\nSir Walter shook his head. He knew nothing.\n\n\"He's a stupid fellow for all his fine clothes,\" thought David. Then he\nsaid aloud:\n\n\"Don't you know that the marker is the man who sits in the curtained box\nand marks the mistakes?\"\n\nNo. Sir Walter did not know that.\n\n\"Don't you know that the singer may have seven mistakes, seven,--and no\nmore?\"\n\nSir Walter did not know that, either.\n\n\"Well, well! And you want to become a Master Singer in one day. I've\nstudied for years and years with Hans Sachs, my master, and I'm not a\nMaster Singer yet. You have a lot to learn,\" and David gave a great sigh\nand scratched his head with his forefinger. Then, like the kind-hearted\nfellow that he was, but with half a thought fixed upon Lena's cakes, he\nbegan to explain. He explained the rules for high tones and low tones,\nfor standing and sitting, for breathing and ending, for grace notes and\nmiddle notes, for rhyming and tuning; and the more he explained, the\nmore perplexed poor Sir Walter became. His spirits dropped, dropped,\ndown to his very boots. Indeed, his discouragement was so great that I\nfear he would have been much inclined to run away if at that moment the\nMaster Singers had not come in.\n\nVeit Pogner, the rich silversmith, came first. And tagging behind him,\ntalking excitedly, and gesticulating while he talked, was the Marker of\nthe guild, the town clerk, Sixtus Beckmesser. The rest came after. But\ntheir voices could not be heard. The town clerk was so busy telling\nMaster Pogner that he hoped to win his daughter on the morrow, and that\nhe would serenade her that very night, that no one else had a chance to\nsay anything.\n\nImagine a short man, a fat man, a man with thin, crooked legs, a mincing\ngait, a head too bald, a face too red; in short, a clown of a man. That\nwas Sixtus Beckmesser. Then think of two squinting eyes fastened upon\nMaster Pogner's money. That was the secret of the town clerk's love for\npretty Eva. He was as different from Sir Walter as night is from day, as\nsorrow is from joy, as falsehood is from truth. But he was determined to\nwin in the song contest. And he had many powers, good and evil, to help\nhim, as you shall see.\n\nSir Walter stepped forward, and Veit Pogner greeted him kindly. Surely\nso handsome a knight should be favored. Hans Sachs came forward, also.\nAnd all agreed that Sir Walter should be given an opportunity. Only\nBeckmesser snarled with rage, for the young knight was a formidable\nrival.\n\n\"Ha! ha!\" croaked he to himself. \"Just wait. Let him try to sing! I'll\nshow him what singing is.\"\n\nSir Walter was bidden to seat himself in the candidate's chair. And,\nwith a smile that was far from friendly, Sixtus Beckmesser, slate and\nchalk in hand, entered the Marker's box and pulled the curtains together\nbehind him.\n\nThen in a harsh tone he called out:--\n\n\"Now begin!\"\n\nWalter mused a moment and then began his song. The words, the music,\nflowed forth unbidden from his full heart. He sang of the Springtime\nwhich came into the sleeping forest, and, with thousands of heavenly\nvoices, awakened the birds, the bees, the flowers. He sang of murmuring\nbrooks, of rustling leaves, and of winter all forlorn, lurking in the\nwoodlands, loath to depart.\n\nAnd as he sang, groans of discouragement came from within the Marker's\nbox. There was the sound of chalk scratches, once, twice, and again.\n\nWalter hesitated a moment. Then he went on. He sang of the awakening of\nthe woods to life, to happiness. His voice rose high in joyous refrain.\n\nBut a loud groan came from the Marker's box. Another scratch--another.\n\nWalter took a long breath. He did not care. With thoughts of his fair\nEva in mind, he sang on. He sang of love, which, like Springtime in the\nwoodland, had awakened his heart. He sang of the thrill of life it\nbrought, the happiness, the all-surpassing joy.\n\nSuddenly the curtains were roughly pushed apart, and Beckmesser rushed\nout, slate in hand. It was covered on both sides with marks!\n\n\"Can no one stop him?\" he cried as he jumped frantically about. \"The\nslate is full,\" and he laughed exultingly.\n\nThe Masters joined in the laughter, for, it was true, Sir Walter had\nsung according to no rule of the guild. Only Hans Sachs and Veit Pogner,\nrealizing the beauty and poetry of the song, tried to argue for the\nyoung knight. But their opinions were overruled. The Master Singers\ndecreed that Sir Walter had lost his chance. He must be silent and sing\nno more. Sixtus Beckmesser remained triumphant, and Walter left the\nchurch while the Masters pronounced the decree,--\n\n\"Outdone and outsung.\"\n\n\nIII\n\nThe day of toil was over. Twilight came, and then the cool and quiet\nevening. A bright moon rode on high. It peeped in and out, between the\ngables, behind the church spire, and promised fair weather for the\nmorrow.\n\n  \"Midsummer Day, Midsummer Day,\n  And the song festival so gay,--\"\n\nsang the jolly 'prentice boys, as they appeared at their masters' house\ndoors to close the shutters for the night.\n\nDavid stood on the little grass plot before his master's cottage, also.\nBut he was not in so merry a mood. He was a serious young man with a\nsweetheart of his own, and he had no time for frivolity or nonsense. Let\nsilly boys caper as they wished. So he pulled down the shutters and\nnever noticed Magdalena, who had slipped out of Veit Pogner's great\nhouse across the street and was hastening toward him. The boys snickered\nand beckoned to one another in great glee. A well-laden basket was on\nMagdalena's arm, and even her voice had an inviting sound.\n\n\"David, dear, turn around!\" she called. David hastened eagerly to her\nside. The boys, too, with broad grins overspreading their faces, crept\nforward on tiptoes to listen.\n\n\"See, David,\" they heard Lena say, \"here's something nice for you. Take\na peep inside. Doesn't that make your mouth water? But tell me first,\nwhat of Sir Walter?\"\n\n\"There's nothing much to tell,\" answered David, quite unconcerned. \"He\nwas outsung and outdone!\"\n\n\"Outsung and outdone!\" gasped Magdalena. \"Take your hands off of my\nbasket. No, sir! None of my goodies for you!\" and she flounced off,\nmurmuring: \"What's to be done? Oh, what's to be done?\"\n\nDavid stared after her. He was dumfounded. But the boys jeered and\npointed their fingers at him. They had heard it all. Laughing and\nsinging, they formed a ring, and capered about David, who became very\nangry, and struck out blindly right and left. But the more he raved and\nraged, the more they teased and tormented, until, all of a sudden, a\ntall figure stood before them. It was Hans Sachs, the cobbler. Annoyance\nwas written all over his good-humored face. His honest blue eyes sent\nout sparks of anger. The boys hung their heads.\n\n\"What does this mean?\" he cried. \"To bed! To bed!\" The apprentices stole\nshamefacedly away.\n\n\"And you\"--he continued, taking the crest-fallen David by the ear, \"put\nthe new shoes on the lasts and get into the house. No song to-night,\nsir!\" They entered the workshop.\n\nAll was still on the narrow street for a little while. Eva and her\nfather sauntered homeward from their evening walk. They lingered for a\nfew moments beneath the linden tree before the door, enjoying the\nevening air. Then they entered the house for supper. Lights glimmered in\nthe windows. A dog barked in the distance. Peace pervaded the quiet\ntown.\n\nHans Sachs appeared again at his workshop door. He flung it open and\npeered down the street, then he looked up at the sky. The gentle evening\nbreeze fanned his cheeks. How refreshing it was! How pleasant it would\nbe to work out of doors to-night! And, calling David, he ordered him to\nplace his bench, his stool, the light, the tools outside, beneath the\ntree.\n\n\"You will not work in this light, Master?\" queried David.\n\n\"Be quiet,\" retorted Hans Sachs, shortly. \"Go to bed!\"\n\n\"Sleep well, Master.\"\n\n\"Good night,\" answered Hans Sachs, as he sat down by the bench and took\nup his tools. But he did not work. The silvery moonlight cast a glamor\nover the town. It softened the outlines of all that he looked upon and\nmade them vague, uncertain, beautiful. The evening breeze wafted down\nthe sweet scent of the elder blossoms, and a delicious languor overcame\nhim. The soul of the poet arose in the body of the cobbler, and, as if\nunder a spell, he sat motionless, oblivious to shoes, lasts, tools,\neverything. The Song of Spring that the young knight had sung that\nafternoon began to haunt him. Faintly, elusively, it came to his mind,\nlike the distant echo of a melody heard in a dream. Musing upon Sir\nWalter, who, like the birds in the woodland, had sung the song his heart\nhad told him to sing, he did not see Eva trip lightly from her father's\nhouse. She paused before him. Hans Sachs looked up. The sweet girl,\nswaying back and forth like a bird on a bough, looked more like a happy\nthought than a physical reality.\n\nEva broke the silence shyly.\n\n\"Good evening, Master,\" she said. \"Still working?\"\n\nInstantly Hans Sachs' face wore a genial smile of welcome.\n\n\"Ah, little Eva,\" he answered, \"you have come to speak about those new\nshoes for to-morrow, I'll be bound.\"\n\nNow, as you no doubt have already guessed, artful Miss Eva had come for\nno such purpose at all. To tell the truth, she had feared to ask her\nfather aught concerning the trial meeting of the Master Singers that\nafternoon. For she knew it would be far easier to wheedle the story from\nher old friend Hans Sachs.\n\nWith a fine affectation of unconcern she began her questioning. But\nlittle did she know Hans Sachs. He, as it happened, was quite clever\nenough to divine her plan. He suspected that she must have some hidden\nreason for this sudden interest in the trial meeting. At least, he\nthought, it would do no harm to find out. So he spoke harshly of Sir\nWalter, and pretended that he had sung abominably at the trial meeting.\nIndeed, the Masters were quite right in rejecting him! And all the time\nhe watched Eva's expression and laughed, oh, how he laughed, in his\nsleeve!\n\nEva flushed crimson. She flew into a temper.\n\n\"A nice lot of Masters, indeed!\" She flung the words at Hans Sachs.\n\"Little do they know of fine singing, or you either, for that matter.\"\nThen she rushed angrily away, and crossed the street to her own home.\n\nHans Sachs smiled tenderly. He nodded his head wisely as he gazed after\nher.\n\n\"Ah!\" he said to himself, \"that's just what I thought! That's just what\nI thought!\"\n\nAnd still shaking his head, he gathered up his tools and entered the\nworkshop. He closed the door behind him; that is, he nearly closed the\ndoor,--nearly, not entirely, which was most fortunate, as you shall see.\n\nNot long afterward Sir Walter von Stolzing came hastening down the\nstreet. His face was full of sorrow. All his hopes of winning Eva were\ngone. He would see her once more, and then bid her farewell forever.\n\nEva saw him coming. Running toward him, she greeted him gladly and led\nhim to the garden seat, beneath the shade of the linden tree. And there\nthe young knight told her of his failure. As he spoke of the\nnarrow-minded Masters who had spurned his song, his voice grew bitter.\n\"Ah,\" he continued, \"all hope is gone unless you will marry me\nto-night.\" Eva assented eagerly. And so, in excited whispers, just loud\nenough for Hans Sachs to hear, the two lovers planned to run away.\n\nLosing no time, Eva ran into the house and donned Magdalena's cloak.\nThen, bidding the maid seat herself by the window in her stead, she\nhurried to join Sir Walter.\n\nJust as the two lovers made ready under cover of the darkness to dive\ndown the narrow street, clever Hans Sachs threw his workshop door wide\nopen, and the broad stream of bright light from his lamp flooded their\npath. Eva and Sir Walter fell back. They could not pass that way. The\ncobbler would be sure to see them. They looked in the opposite\ndirection. No. There was the watchman, and skulking in his wake was\nstill another figure. Who could that be? He was coming that way. Oh,\nthis would never do. In despair the lovers rushed back to the friendly\nshadows beneath the linden tree.\n\nMeanwhile Hans Sachs, who had no objection to their marriage, but who\nfelt a great distaste for elopements, had brought out his tools, and had\nseated himself at his workbench once more. He, too, spied a strange\nfigure slinking down the street toward Pogner's house. Well he knew\nthose thin legs, that fat body, the too bald head, the too red face. It\nwas Beckmesser, the town clerk, the Marker of the guild. He had come to\nserenade the fair Eva. He would show her what fine singing was. And he\nlooked up at her window expectantly, as he tuned his lute.\n\nAt the same moment Hans Sachs, chuckling softly to himself, broke out\nin a loud song accompanied by an outrageous hammering upon a pair of\nshoes. His big voice rang out so lustily that it completely drowned the\ntinkle, tinkle of the town clerk's lute. Beckmesser became frantic with\nrage. Suppose Miss Eva should hear! Suppose she should think he was\nsinging in that atrocious manner. A slim chance he would have to win her\nto-morrow! He gazed at the closed shutters Then he ran to Hans Sachs,\nscolding and pleading with him to be silent. What did Master Beckmesser\nwant? And Master Sachs was most indignant. Those were his shoes that he\nwas working upon. A man must keep at his trade. And the jolly cobbler\nwent on hammering and singing as loudly as before.\n\nThe panic of Master Beckmesser increased. He paced angrily to and fro.\nHe put his fingers to his ears. And if Hans Sachs had not been so big\nand strong, it is not hard to imagine what he would have done next.\n\nAt last when the window in Pogner's house opened wide and revealed a\nmaiden seated there, Hans Sachs ceased. He had a plan. He consented to\nlisten to Beckmesser's serenade if he might be permitted to mark each\nerror by tapping on his lapstone. For there were shoes to be finished,\nand that was the only way.\n\nThe plan did not please Beckmesser at all, but, since he had no choice,\nhe was forced to agree. So, by way of beginning, he strummed a prelude\non his lute, and looked for favor at the figure in the window. But\nbefore he had time to get his breath Hans Sachs had struck the shoe a\nmighty blow and had shouted,--\n\n\"Now begin!\"\n\nBeckmesser started. Then he began to sing. But a sorry performance it\nwas. The nervousness, the anger, the malice, had entered his voice and\nhad made it harsh and squeaky by turns. He sang a line. It was out of\ntune. Down went the hammer. He scowled and began another line. It did\nnot rhyme. The hammer fell again. And so, becoming more and more\nenraged, Beckmesser sang more and more falsely, so that Hans Sachs was\nkept busy beating a veritable tattoo upon his lapstone. Beckmesser\nsqueaked, he bawled, he howled, and all the time Hans Sachs hammered and\nhammered, until both shoes were done.\n\nThis howling and hammering awakened the people in the houses all about.\nShutters were pushed back, windows were opened, nightcaps appeared and\nsleepy voices ordered them to be silent.\n\nDavid, hearing the tumult, peered out. When he saw a strange man before\nthe window serenading a lady whom he at once perceived to be his Lena,\nhe rushed out, cudgel in hand. He fell upon the unfortunate musician,\nwho yelled so loudly that the whole neighborhood was aroused. The\napprentices rushed out and fell upon David, and the Masters rushed out\nand fell upon the apprentices, and before any one knew what it was all\nabout, everybody was hitting everybody else. The clamor and commotion\ngrew and grew apace. People came running from all sides, and joined in\nthe general hubbub and confusion.\n\nOnly Hans Sachs kept a cool head. Seeing that Eva and her knight were\nabout to make use of the excitement to run away, he intercepted them.\nFirst he pushed Eva into her father's house. Then, grasping Walter by\nthe arm, he thrust him into his own workshop and, following him, closed\nthe door.\n\nThe street fight continued. Suddenly the sound of the watchman's horn\nwas heard in the distance. The crowd was seized with a panic of fear. As\nif by magic, it dispersed. The people suddenly disappeared into the\nhouses, down the alleys, behind doors, anywhere. The lights were\nextinguished. All was still.\n\nWhen the sleepy watchman came to that street, he rubbed his eyes, stared\nabout him in surprise, and then shook his head. Could he have been\ndreaming? He thought that he had heard a noise. Holding his torch aloft,\nhe blew his horn and cried out:\n\n  \"To my words, ye people, hearken:\n  All your houses straight way darken!\n  'Tis ten o'clock, all fires put out!\n  Let naught of evil lurk about.\n  Praised be the Lord!\"\n\nThen he went his way. And the moon shone down upon the peaceful streets\nof Nuremberg.\n\n\nIV\n\nMidsummer Day dawned. Long before the town was awake, while Sir Walter\nstill slumbered in an inner room of the cottage, Hans Sachs sat in the\ngreat armchair by the open window. The morning sunshine fell upon his\nhead as he bent over the thick and musty volume he held in his hands.\nBut who shall say he was reading as he turned the time-worn leaves over\nand over? His mind wandered far afield,--to the early days of his\nbeloved Nuremberg, to the trades, to himself, the humble cause of last\nnight's brawl. And the thought of the two young lovers came to him. He\nwould like so much to help them, if he could only find a way. So\nabsorbed was he that he scarcely noticed the youth David who came to\noffer him the basket of goodies, which Magdalena had given him as a\ntoken of forgiveness.\n\nAnd so the moments passed. Hans Sachs resumed his reading, until at\nlength the chamber door was opened and Sir Walter stood upon the\nthreshold. Bidding his host good morning, he walked slowly toward him.\n\n\"Ah, good morning, Sir Knight,\" replied Hans Sachs, forgetful of the\ngreat book, which slid to the floor as he arose. \"I hope you rested\nwell.\"\n\n\"Thank you. The sleep that I had was restful,\" answered Sir Walter, in a\ndreamy and preoccupied tone. Then he exclaimed rapturously,--\n\n\"But I had a most beautiful dream!\"\n\n\"A dream?\" Hans Sachs was all attention. \"Tell it to me!\"\n\n\"I dare not. I fear it will fade away,\" said Sir Walter.\n\n\"Nay. It is of such dreams that poetry is made,\"--and the eyes of the\ncobbler gleamed with an inner radiance. \"Poems are but dreams made\nreal.\"\n\nThus urged and encouraged, the young knight sang the story of his dream.\nAnd Hans Sachs was moved by the rare beauty of the poetry and music.\nHastily procuring pen and ink, he bade Sir Walter sing it over again\nwhile he transcribed the words to paper. Then, as the song continued,\nthe kind-hearted master added bits of advice in a low tone. He showed\nthe young knight how he could keep the words and melody as beautiful as\nhis dream, and still obey the rules of correct singing. Charging him\nnot to forget the tune, Hans Sachs insisted that Sir Walter array\nhimself in his richest garments and accompany him to the Song Festival.\n\n\"For,\" concluded he, \"something may happen. Who can tell?\" And so the\ntwo men entered the inner room together.\n\nHans Sachs was right. Something did happen, and very soon, too. Scarcely\nwas that door closed than the one leading to the street was cautiously\npushed open. And a too bald head, a too red face, and two squinting,\ncrafty eyes peeped in. Then, assured that no one was about, a wretched\nfigure limped after. It was Beckmesser, the town clerk, but a sore and\naching Beckmesser; a Beckmesser who could neither sit, nor stand,--a\nmiserable Beckmesser, whose disposition had not been at all improved by\nthe cudgeling that he had received. Slowly and painfully he came\nforward. And since there was no one at hand, he shook his fist and\nscowled savagely at the bright sunshine and the soft air.\n\nAs he hopped and limped about the room, he came, by chance, to the table\nwhereon lay the paper upon which Hans Sachs had written. He took it up,\ninquisitively sniffing, as he ran his eye over it. What was this? A\ntrial song, and a love song at that? And, hearing the chamber door open,\nhe, then and there, stuck the paper into his pocket. How Hans Sachs\nsmiled when he saw what the crafty creature had been about!\n\n\"Very well, Master Beckmesser,\" said he. \"Since you've already pocketed\nthe song, and since I do not wish you to be known as a thief, I gladly\ngive it to you.\"\n\n\"And you'll never tell any one that you composed it?\" squeaked\nBeckmesser.\n\n\"No, I'll never tell any one that I composed it,\" and Hans Sachs turned\naway to hide his laughter, for he knew full well that no Master\nBeckmesser could learn and sing that song that day.\n\nBut the miserable Beckmesser was beside himself with joy. Such a song,\ncomposed by a master like Hans Sachs and sung by a singer like Sixtus\nBeckmesser, could not fail to win the prize! Rubbing his hands with\nglee, he hobbled and stumbled from the room.\n\nThe time for the Song Festival came at last. The worthy people of\nNuremberg,--the bakers, the cobblers, the tailors, the tinkers, with\ntheir wives and their sweethearts, all clad in the brightest of holiday\nclothes, journeyed to the open meadow at some distance behind the town.\nAnd there a scene of jollity and merriment awaited them. Gayly decorated\nboats sailed to and fro, bringing more burghers from near and far. Under\ntents of colored bunting merry people were eating and drinking. Flags\nflew, bands played; there was dancing and singing, laughter and joy. And\nthe 'prentices in all the glory of floating ribbons and many-colored\nflowers ran this way and that, ordering the tradespeople to the benches\none moment and dancing with the prettiest girls the next.\n\nSuddenly a shout was heard: \"The Master Singers! The Master Singers!\"\nAnd a hush fell over the company, as the 'prentices marched solemnly\nforward and cleared the way. The standard bearer came first, and\nfollowing him, Veit Pogner, leading the fair Eva by the hand. She was\nrichly dressed, and looked radiant as the morning itself. Attending her\nwere other splendidly gowned maidens, among whom was the one that David\nthought the most lovely of all. Then came the Master Singers. And when\nthe people saw their beloved Hans Sachs among the rest, they shouted and\nwaved their hats in loyal greeting.\n\nThe Master Singers took their seats on the platform, a place of honor in\ntheir midst having been assigned to Eva and her maidens. Several\n'prentices ran forward and heaped up a little mound of turf, which they\nbeat solid and then strewed with flowers. The time for the prize\nsinging was at hand.\n\n  \"Unmarried masters, forward to win!\n  Friend Beckmesser, it is time. Begin!\"\n\nThe 'prentices conducted Beckmesser to the mound. He put up one aching\nleg, then the other. He stood wavering uncertainly a moment, then\ntoppled over.\n\n\"The thing is rickety,\" he snarled. \"Make it secure.\"\n\nThe boys set hastily to work, slyly snickering, while they beat the turf\nwith their spades. And the people near at hand giggled and whispered:\n\n\"What a lover!\"--\"I wouldn't care for him if I were the lady.\"--\"He's\ntoo fat.\"--\"Look at his red face.\"--\"Where's his hair?\"\n\nWith the help of the 'prentices Beckmesser again hobbled up on the\nmound. Striving to set his feet securely, he looked right and left. Then\nhe made a grand bow.\n\nThe standard bearer called out,--\n\n\"Now, begin.\"\n\nAnd he began. He sang such a song as Nuremberg had never heard before\nand hoped never to hear again. Mixed with the tune of the new song was\nthe miserable serenade he had sung the night before. As for the new\nwords that he had tried to learn, they were gone completely. His mind\nwas blank. So he ducked his head and took a peep at the paper, and\ninstead of the words,\n\n  \"Morning was gleaming with roseate light,\n  The air was filled\n  With scent distilled,\"--\n\nBeckmesser sang,--\n\n  \"Yawning and steaming with roseate light,\n  My hair was filled\n  With scent distilled,\"--\n\nand much more besides that was far worse. The people muttered to each\nother. They could not understand what it was all about. The Masters\nstared in perplexity. Finally, as the singer became more and more\nconfused, and sang a jumble of ridiculous and meaningless words, they\nall burst into a loud peal of laughter.\n\nThe sound of laughter stung Beckmesser to fury. He stumbled angrily from\nthe mound and, shaking his fist at Hans Sachs, declared that if the song\nwas poor, it was not his fault. Hans Sachs was to blame. He had written\nit. Then he threw the paper on the platform and, rushing madly through\nthe crowd, disappeared.\n\nThe people were in confusion, the Masters were amazed. They all turned\nto Hans Sachs for an explanation. He picked up the paper, smoothed it\nout, handed it to the Masters, and said:\n\n\"No, the song is not mine. I could not hope to compose anything so\nbeautiful.\"\n\nBeautiful? The Masters were incredulous. Hans Sachs must be joking. But\nhe went on.\n\n\"Yes, beautiful. Master Beckmesser has sung it incorrectly. The one who\nwrote it could render it in a manner that would prove its beauty beyond\na doubt.\" Raising his voice, he called:\n\n\"Let the one who can sing the song step forward.\"\n\nAnd to the great surprise of all, Sir Walter von Stolzing, clad in\nglittering knightly apparel, came from the crowd. He bowed courteously\nto the Masters, and won the hearts of all by his noble looks and his\nmanly bearing. He stepped lightly upon the mound, mused a moment, and\nthen began his song of the dream. And, as before, the words, the music,\ngushed forth from his full heart. He put all his love, all his yearning,\ninto the melody he sang. His voice swelled upward like the rising tide.\nAnd when it reached the full, the rapture of it touched the hearts of\nall who listened. The song was finished. A hush fell upon the Masters\nand people alike. But only for a moment; soon a glad shout arose:\n\n\"Master Singer! Master Singer!\"\n\nAnd Sir Walter von Stolzing knew that the victory was his.\n\nThey led him to the fair Eva and placed her hand in his. While the\npeople waved and sang, she placed a wreath of laurel upon his head. It\nwas his beautiful dream coming true. Then the Masters hung a chain of\ngold around his neck, which showed that he was a member of the guild.\nSir Walter thought of the treatment that he had received the day before\nat the trial meeting, and he was about to refuse. But Hans Sachs arose\nand spoke gravely of the reverence due to the Art of Song. And Walter\nforgot his bitterness, and thought only of his love and future happiness\nwith Eva by his side.\n\nAnd so with the people singing,\n\n  \"Hail, all hail\n  Nuremberg's beloved Hans Sachs,\"\n\nMidsummer Day and the Song Festival came to an end.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLOHENGRIN, THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN\n\n\nI\n\nLong years ago a maiden, fair as the morning itself, wandered through a\nlonely greenwood in the Duchy of Brabant. She was Elsa, only daughter of\nthe late Duke of Brabant, who had died but a short time before this\nstory begins.\n\nAlthough Elsa was the rightful owner of all the wooded lands and fertile\nfields for miles and miles around, she was far from happy. Although\nsummer lay warm and fragrant over those lands, and flowers blossomed\nalong her pathway, yet Elsa's heart was heavy within her. She was full\nof sorrow. For, not long before, while walking in those self-same woods,\nher brother Godfrey had suddenly and unaccountably disappeared from her\nside. Elsa had searched and searched. She had wept, she had prayed,\nbut all in vain. No trace of him had she found anywhere. Spent with\ngrief and anxiety, she had run to her guardian, Frederick of Telramund,\nand told him the story. But Frederick had repulsed her with unkind\nglances and cruel words. He had even accused her of doing away with her\npoor brother, that she might claim the entire Duchy of Brabant for\nherself.\n\nThis guardian, Frederick of Telramund, knew well enough that Elsa was\nincapable of so foul a deed. He knew that she had loved her brother\nGodfrey far too well to do him harm. But Frederick had coveted the rich\nlands and vast possessions of Brabant for many a year. And he was\ndetermined to get them now by fair means or foul. Moreover, he had\nmarried the pagan princess Ortrud, who was every whit as evil-minded and\nambitious as he. Ortrud's father, a heathen prince, had once owned part\nof Brabant, and they were confident that, with Godfrey and Elsa out of\nthe way, they could lay claim to the whole Duchy. How they plotted and\nschemed together against poor Elsa!\n\nDo you wonder, then, that Elsa walked through the forest on that morning\nlong ago, with downcast eyes, oblivious to all save her own sad\nthoughts? Her father was dead, her brother was gone, her guardian had\nproved false. To whom should she turn for guidance? Weary and perplexed,\nshe sank down beneath the sheltering branches of a friendly tree near\nby. All was calm and still. Her tired eyes rested upon the deep blue\ndome of the sky, and thoughts of God, the All-Father, filled her mind.\nAh, she could put her trust in Him. And a prayer for help arose from her\nheart. Perhaps it was the answer to her prayer, perhaps it was only a\ndream, but then and there Elsa saw a marvelous vision. The heavens\nopened, and disclosed a noble knight. Enveloped in heavenly light, this\nknight descended to earth, and stood before Elsa. He smiled upon her,\nand, like a miracle, she became tranquil and unafraid. He was so strong,\nso stalwart, so brave! His shining white armor glittered in the\nsunlight. A glistening sword hung by his side, a golden horn from his\nshoulder. His eyes were kind. There was comfort in his voice.\n\n\"Arise!\" spoke he, \"and go your way. Be of good cheer, and fear not, for\nwhen your need is sorest, I will come to defend you.\"\n\nThen he vanished. Elsa was alone in the greenwood.\n\n\nII\n\nJust at this time the King of all Germany came down to Brabant. With\npomp and ceremony he came, bringing rough knights from Saxony and brave\nnobles from Thuringia, all good men and true, to bear him company.\n\nHenry the First was he, a wise king and a just. People called him Henry\nthe Fowler because he was so fond of hunting. It may be, however, that\nit was not the hunt that he loved so much as the great out-of-doors, the\nwide plains, the wild forests, the winding rivers. Whenever he summoned\nhis faithful subjects to discuss affairs of peace or war, he chose some\nmeeting place under the blue sky, in God's temple, where men breathe\ndeeply, think clearly, and judge rightly.\n\nSo, when at Brabant King Henry found no duke to greet him; when,\ninstead, he heard of strife, of discord, and of strange whispers, he sat\nhimself down beneath a giant oak on the bank of the winding river\nScheldt. And the trumpeters blew a great blast, the herald proclaimed\nthe King's presence, the trusty men who had come to bear him company\nstood at arms, while the Brabantians gathered from north and south, from\neast and west, of the Duchy to hearken to the King's word.\n\n\"I had come here, my good people,\" began the King, \"to ask the aid of\nyour forces in subduing the wild Hungarian foe. Full well do I know\nthat as loyal German subjects you are ready to answer your country's\ncall. But I find discord in your midst, strife and confusion. Therefore\nhave I called you together to learn the causes thereof and to deal\njustly with the offenders, be it possible.\"\n\nThe people of Brabant were pleased with the King's words and looked to\nFrederick of Telramund to make answer. Frederick arose. Behind him stood\nhis wife, the dark-haired princess Ortrud, ready to prompt him should he\nhesitate.\n\nBut false Frederick did not hesitate. His voice did not tremble,\nalthough he spoke with much show of grief. He made a low obeisance to\nthe King and besought sympathy for the sad tale he was about to tell. He\ntold how the dying Duke had intrusted Elsa and Godfrey to his care, how\ntenderly he had reared them, how devotedly he had loved them, and how\nsorely the mysterious disappearance of Godfrey had grieved him. And\nthen, he continued, he had been forced to believe that Elsa had murdered\nher brother in order to claim the whole Duchy for herself--or\nmayhap--for some secret lover. Therefore he, Frederick of Telramund, and\nhis wife Ortrud, by right of inheritance, besought the King to make them\nDuke and Duchess of Brabant.\n\n\"An astounding story indeed!\" The free-men muttered to each other. The\nnobles looked at Frederick and shook their heads. \"The man must be sure\nof his proof to make such an accusation,\" said they, as they turned\ntoward the King.\n\nKing Henry sat with bowed head, in deep thought. He ran his hand over\nhis forehead, pondered a moment, and then murmured:\n\n\"So foul a deed!\"\n\nAloud he said:\n\n\"I would see this maid. I would look upon her face. I would hear her\ntale. And may God guide my judgment aright.\"\n\nHanging his shield on the giant oak behind him, King Henry swore never\nto wear it again until justice had been done. And all the German nobles\ndrew their swords and thrust them, points down, into the ground,\nswearing never to wear them again until justice had been done. And the\nmen of Brabant laid their swords at their feet, swearing the same. Then\nthe herald summoned Elsa.\n\nShe came, the fair-haired Elsa, clad all in white, with her train of\nladies, all in white, behind her. They paused, and she, with hands\nclasped and eyes cast down, advanced timidly, slowly, alone, until she\nstood before the King. Her golden hair, unbound, hung a cloud of glory\nabout her. How young she was! How lovely! The rough knights gazed upon\nher, and their eyes filled with tears. Surely no maiden with such a face\ncould be guilty of such a crime.\n\nThe King spoke very gently. Was she Elsa of Brabant? She bowed her\nhead. Did she know the heavy charge that had been brought against her?\nShe bowed again. Was she willing that he, King Henry, should judge her?\nOnce more her head was bowed in assent. And it was only when the King\nasked whether she was guilty of this murder that Elsa found voice. She\nwrung her hands piteously, and exclaimed, \"Oh, my poor, poor brother!\"\n\nA dreamy look was upon Elsa's face as she told her story. Her voice\ntrembled, and her eyes strayed over the distant hills. It was as though\nshe saw it all again.\n\nShe told of that day in the woods, her sad walk alone, her deep grief,\nher utter weariness. She told of her rest beneath the friendly tree and\nof the blue heaven overhead. But when she told of her prayer to God for\nguidance in her distress, her faltering voice grew stronger, braver.\nRapturously, she told of her dream, and of the noble knight whose white\narmor had glittered in the sunlight, of his sword, his horn, and,\nlast, of his promise.\n\n\"Him will I trust!\" she cried. \"He shall my Champion be!\"\n\nThe knights, the nobles, the King, were startled. But Frederick of\nTelramund cried out.\n\n\"Such words do not mislead me. See! does she not speak of a secret\nlover? What further proof do you need? Here stand I, and here's my\nsword, both ready to fight for my honor.\"\n\nNow since King Henry believed that God in His wisdom would surely give\nmight to the hands that fought for Right, he asked Frederick if he were\nready to fight for life or death to uphold this charge that he had\nbrought.\n\nFrederick answered, \"Yes.\"\n\nThen the King turned to Elsa, and asked her if she were willing to have\nher champion fight for life or death to prove her blameless.\n\nElsa answered, \"Yes,\" and, to the great astonishment of all, named her\nunknown knight as her champion.\n\n\"None other will I have,\" she said. \"He will come to defend me, and upon\nhim will I bestow my father's lands. Aye, should he deign to wed me, I\nwill be his bride.\"\n\n\"Then cry out the summons,\" ordered the King.\n\nThe herald stepped forth with his trumpeters four. Placing one to the\neast and one to the west, one to the north, and one to the south, he\nbade them blow a great blast.\n\n\"Let him who dares to fight for Elsa of Brabant come forth!\"\n\nThe trumpet's call, the herald's words, fell on the clear air. The echo\nsounded and resounded. There was a long pause. All was still.\n\nThe dark-haired Ortrud curled her lips scornfully, and an evil smile lit\nthe face of Frederick of Telramund.\n\n\"Once more, O King!\" implored Elsa, \"once more let the summons be\nsounded!\" and she fell upon her knees at his feet.\n\nThe King nodded. The trumpeters blew another blast. Again the herald\ncried out:\n\n\"Let him who dares to fight for Elsa of Brabant come forth!\"\n\nAgain the notes died away on the clear air. Again the echo sounded,\nresounded. Another long pause. All was as still as before. Only the\nvoice of Elsa in prayer was heard. Oh, how she prayed! Her need was\ngreat. Surely the noble knight of her dream would not fail her. God had\nsent him to her in the greenwood. He would send him now. She would put\nher trust in Him. And she bowed her head in her hands.\n\nSuddenly the men on the river bank were seen peering eagerly into the\ndistance. They beckoned, they waved, they whispered. Others ran to join\nthem. And they, too, gazed, then pointed excitedly down the river. What\nstrange sight was there? What was it that glittered, glistened from\nafar? Its brightness dazzled the eyes. Ah! it was lost to view behind\nthe curving shore. No, it appeared again. Behold a wonder! A swan, a\nsnow-white swan was gliding gracefully toward them. It drew a boat, a\nsilver boat. And in the boat, erect, his bright armor glittering in the\nsun, stood a knight. He leaned upon his sword. A helmet was on his head,\na shield on his shoulder, a horn by his side. The swan drew him nearer.\nHe approached the very bank. Oh, wondrous sight! A gallant knight had\nbeen sent by Heaven to defend the fair-haired maiden. Might had come to\nfight for Right.\n\nThe men were awestruck. In silence, entranced, they gazed at the swan,\nthe boat, the Heaven-appointed knight. The King, from his seat beneath\nthe giant oak, surveyed the scene in bewilderment. Elsa felt the\nexcitement, heard the murmurs, still dared not lift her head. But the\nface of Frederick was dark and gloomy to see, and Ortrud cowered down\nin terror and shuddered strangely when she beheld the snow-white swan.\n\nThe noble knight had stepped to the shore. Casting a loving look at his\ndear swan, he bade it a tender farewell, and watched it sadly as it\nglided away, over the water, around the curve, out of sight.\n\nThen he turned. Elsa, rising, uttered a cry of joy when she saw his\nface. It was he! The noble knight of her dream! So strong, so stalwart,\nso brave! He had come. There Was naught to fear.\n\nSolemnly, with long strides, armor glistening, sword clanking, helmet in\nhand, the Swan Knight advanced and stood before the King. He made a low\nobeisance, then announced that he had come to champion a guiltless maid\nwho had been falsely accused of a woeful crime. He looked at Elsa.\n\n\"Elsa,\" he said, \"do you choose me as your defender?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she cried.\n\n\"And if I prove victorious, will you be my bride?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nSurely there was little that she would not promise this noble knight who\nhad come from afar to defend her. And Elsa threw herself at his feet,\nvowing to give him all she had, even her life, if need be. But the Swan\nKnight raised her and, looking into her eyes, asked but one promise, a\nstrange one. If he was to defend her, if he was to be her husband, she\nmust trust him utterly. She must never ask his name. No, she must not\neven think of it, or who he was, or from whence he came.\n\nAt that moment it seemed very easy for Elsa to promise so simple a\nthing. But the Swan Knight was very solemn, and he repeated the words\nslowly, saying,--\n\n  \"Mark this well, Elsa.\n  These questions ask me never,\n  Nor think upon them ever,\n  From whence I hither came,\n  What is my rank or name.\"\n\nShe listened carefully, then promised gladly never to doubt him, always\nto obey him. It was such a little thing, and was he not her shield, her\nangel, her preserver?\n\nSo the King arranged the fight. Three Saxons advanced for the Swan\nKnight, three men of Brabant for Frederick of Telramund. With three\nsolemn paces they measured the ground. The King struck his sword three\ntimes against his shield, and the battle was on.\n\n  \"Oh, let the arm of Right be strong,\n  And feeble be the arm of Wrong,\"\n\nsang the men.\n\nAnd it was so. God gave Might to the arm of the Knight. But a few passes\nand falsehood and deceit were vanquished. Frederick the Traitor lay\nprostrate on the ground with the sword of the Swan Knight pointed at his\nthroat. Still the Knight spared his life. He bade him go his way and\nsin no more.\n\nJustice had been done. King Henry took his shield from the tree behind\nhim. The Saxons, the Thuringians, the Brabantians, resumed their swords.\nGod had been with them that day under the blue sky, and so amid great\nrejoicing they bore Elsa and her Swan Knight from the field.\n\n\nIII\n\nNight hung over the palace. Sounds of revelry, a trumpet's blast, burst\nfrom the gayly illuminated abode of the knights. But within the\napartments of the Duchess Elsa all was dark and still.\n\nOpposite stood the cathedral wherein, on the morrow, Elsa would become\nthe Swan Knight's bride. Though the delicate spires of the cathedral\npointed to a starry sky, dark shadows lurked about the portico. And in\nthe gloom of these shadows, two figures sat, two abject, miserable\nfigures,--Frederick of Telramund and Ortrud his wife. Despoiled of their\nrich garments and shunned by all, they knew not which way to turn. Since\nthe Stranger Knight was now Guardian of Brabant, banishment was their\nfate, poverty their portion.\n\nAfter the manner of evildoers, each charged the other with their\nmisfortune. False Frederick, who had been willing enough to listen to\nthe promptings of his witch-wife, now upraided her for having used\nsorcery to accomplish her wicked ends. It was she who had urged him to\nfalsehood, he said; she who had induced him to turn traitor; she who had\nblackened his ancient name and besmirched his honor. Stung to fury by\nthe recital of his woes, he called her evil names. He even wished for\nhis sword in order to strike her dead.\n\nBut Ortrud was not a sorceress for nothing. She knew how to cool his\nwrath. She taunted him, in turn, for showing cowardice in the fight.\nShe called him weak of heart and feeble of purpose. She spoke thus: \"Who\nis this Swan Knight who has vanquished the once powerful Frederick? From\nwhence has he come? And what is his power? Only witchcraft has brought\nhim, witchcraft and magic. And magic will take him away. If but one\nsmall point of his body can be injured, he will be helpless and at our\nmercy.\"\n\nFrederick took heart when he heard these words. Perhaps all was not over\nyet. Perhaps Ortrud's black magic and his strength could be used to some\npurpose before the marriage day dawned. If doubt could be instilled into\nthe mind of Elsa, if she could be made to forget her promise, the spell\nwould be broken. Or, if the Swan Knight could be weakened, they would\nregain their lost power over Brabant. So they plotted and planned, heads\nclose together, as the night wore away.\n\nToward morning a light glimmered in the apartments of the lovely Elsa.\nSoon she appeared on the balcony singing a little song.\n\nOrtrud crept near and called to her. She called in a piteous tone, her\nvoice full of misery. She wept loudly and begged meekly for forgiveness.\nShe pretended a repentance for all her former misdeeds that she was far\nfrom feeling.\n\nElsa looked down and listened. When she beheld the once haughty Ortrud\nclad in rags, on her knees, her heart melted. She held out her hands in\npity. That was just what the wicked Ortrud was waiting for. The rest was\neasy. A few more tears, a little more make-believe penitence, and she\nknew she would be forgiven. And sad to tell, it was so. Elsa, full of\nlove and new-found happiness, took Ortrud into her abode. She gave her a\nsplendid gown and allowed her to assist in the marriage preparations.\nAnd the wicked Ortrud improved her opportunities. Artfully, she turned\nthe conversation to the approaching wedding, to the Stranger Knight who\nhad come by magic. Was not Elsa afraid that he would just as magically\ndisappear? But Elsa need not fear. Ortrud would always be her friend.\n\nElsa tried to shake off the disquiet that Ortrud's words caused. But the\nseed of suspicion was planted in her mind, and it grew, just as the\nwicked Ortrud meant that it should.\n\nMeanwhile from his place behind the dark pillars of the cathedral,\nFrederick had seen the first rosy streaks of dawn appear in the East. He\nhad heard the watchman in the tower give the signal of the new day, and\nhe had seen the answer flash from the distant turret. Rage overwhelmed\nhim. For he knew that Elsa's marriage morn had come.\n\nThe sleeping palace awoke to life and activity. Servants hurried to and\nfro preparing for the festival. The herald stepped forth followed by his\ntrumpeters four. They summoned the people, who came in gala array from\nall sides. Groups of richly clad nobles walked proudly down the palace\nsteps and stood before the cathedral, waiting. All eyes were fixed upon\nthe balcony before the abode of the Duchess Elsa.\n\nAll at once, a number of pages appeared there. They descended, two by\ntwo, clearing the way to the cathedral steps and crying aloud:\n\n  \"Make way, make way,\n  Our Lady Elsa comes!\"\n\nThe crowd, hushed and expectant, fell back. Then, down the stairway,\nacross the balcony, came a long train of fair ladies. Their satin\ndresses swept the ground. Bright jewels sparkled and flashed as they\nadvanced slowly toward the cathedral steps. There they halted, ranging\nthemselves on each side to allow the Duchess Elsa to pass between them.\nShe, the fairest of them all, walked alone.\n\nHer dress of richest brocade trailed its heavy folds behind her. Ropes\nof pearls were about her neck, and bound her golden hair. Her head was\nheld high, and her face was more beautiful than anything else in the\nworld. For joy illumined it and made it shine like a star. Was she not\ngoing to meet her Knight, him whom God had sent to defend her?\n\nHer foot was upon the lowest step. She was about to ascend to the\ncathedral when she was rudely pushed aside. Ortrud had sprung forward,\ncrying,--\n\n\"Get back! I'll go first. My rank is higher than yours, and I shall not\nwalk behind you!\"\n\nElsa turned in astonishment. Was this the meek Ortrud who had come to\nher begging forgiveness, pleading repentance?\n\nThe people cried out in anger. But Ortrud, unheeding, went on:\n\n\"My husband may be in disgrace, but he is greater than you all. He will\nrule you yet. As for the husband you are to marry,--\" and she looked at\nthe frightened Elsa,--\"who is he? What is his rank? You dare not even\nask his name!\"\n\nPoor Elsa protested. She tried to say that she did not care to know her\nSwan Knight's name. Heaven had sent him, and she was content. His face\nbore the stamp of noble birth, and she would always trust him. But her\nvoice faltered as she spoke. The seed of suspicion had taken root, and\ndark doubts arose to torment her.\n\nAt that moment, when the consternation was greatest, the King appeared\non the palace steps. With him, in proud array, were the good men and\ntrue who had come to bear him company. And following them all was the\nSwan Knight. His bearing seemed nobler than ever, as he trod proudly\nforward to claim his bride.\n\nBut when he saw the wicked Ortrud and the false Frederick, who by this\ntime had joined in denouncing him and questioning his name, his face\nclouded. King Henry, also, seeing the strife, pressed forward through\nthe crowd, giving orders to push aside the wicked couple.\n\nThe Swan Knight took Elsa tenderly into his arms for a moment, looking\ndeep into her eyes. Then, led by the King, the marriage procession\nproceeded into the cathedral.\n\n\nIV\n\nThe wedding festival was over. With flaming torches held aloft and\njoyous voices raised in song, the procession of ladies and nobles led\nthe bride and bridegroom to their flower-bedecked chamber. Then,\nshowering blessings upon them, they departed. The torchlights faded in\nthe distance; the sound of march and song grew faint. It died away. Elsa\nand her Swan Knight were alone.\n\nThere was a brief silence while they gazed at each other in rapture.\nShe, so lovely, was his inmost heart's desire. He, so brave, was the\nbeloved Knight of her dream. Their voices grew soft with happiness, and\non their faces was the glow of a deep joy.\n\nToo soon, however, at the sound of her name on her lover's lips, a shade\nstole over Elsa's bright face. \"Ah!\" thought she, \"I can never call him\nby his name, for I shall never know what it is.\" Then, like a flash, all\nof Ortrud's taunts came to her mind. And following them, all the dark\ndoubts, the vague suspicions, arose again to torment her.\n\nFirst she sat in moody silence. But soon a strange curiosity showed\nitself in her speech. Would the fetters that bound the Swan Knight's\nlips ne'er be loosened? Must she, his wife, always remain in ignorance?\nIf he loved her truly, he would surely whisper his secret ever so softly\ninto her ear. No one should ever know. She would guard the secret well,\nlocking it within her very heart.\n\nThus she pleaded and begged, but the Swan Knight pretended not to hear\nher. He spoke of other things, striving to distract her mind.\n\nBut Elsa would not be put off. Her eyes were fixed upon the Knight, and\nher face, but lately aglow with wonder and delight, was clouded with\nunbelief and suspicion.\n\nThe Knight was distressed by this sudden change. He reminded her gently\nof the confidence that he had placed in her promise. He warned her\ntenderly of the sorrows that would befall if she did not cease her\nquestioning. He had given up so much honor, yes, and glory besides, to\nstay by her side. Would she not trust him utterly?\n\nScarcely had Elsa heard the words \"glory and honor\" than a horrible fear\nseized her. \"He had come by magic,\" Ortrud had said, \"and by magic he\nwould go.\" Now she knew how it would befall. Soon he would tire of her\nand would return to the honor and glory from which he had come. Stricken\nwith terror, she fancied that she already heard the Swan coming to carry\nhim away. It was too much to bear! Cost what it might, she must learn\nwho he was.\n\n\"Where do you come from?\" she cried \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Ah, Elsa!\" answered the Knight, sadly, \"what have you done?\"\n\nBut before he could utter another word, Frederick of Telramund burst\ninto the room with drawn sword in hand.\n\nElsa saw him first. She forgot her doubt. She forgot her question. She\nthought only that the Swan Knight, her lover, was in danger.\n\n\"Save yourself!\" she shrieked. \"Your sword, your sword!\" She thrust it\ninto his hand.\n\nHe drew it quickly. There was a short parry, one blow; and base\nFrederick lay dead at the Swan Knight's feet.\n\nThen the Swan Knight turned to Elsa. His eyes were tender, but, oh, how\npitying! Their glance pierced Elsa's heart, and filled her with despair\nfor what she had done. His voice was sad as he bade her clothe herself\nin bridal raiment and go before the King. There, on the morrow, he\nwould make fitting answer and tell her the rank he bore. And so saying,\nhe walked sorrowfully out of the flower-bedecked room.\n\nThe next day dawned bright and clear. As was his wont, King Henry the\nFowler sat beneath the giant oak on the bank of the winding river\nScheldt. By his side stood the nobles from Saxony and Thuringia who had\ncome to bear him company. And before him were assembled the men of\nBrabant, from north and south, from east and west, of the Duchy.\n\nSlowly, with measured strides, four men walked into their midst. They\nbore the body of Frederick of Telramund on a bier, which they placed\nbefore the King.\n\nThe nobles looked anxiously at one another. What strange happening was\nthis? For, closely following, tottering feebly, came the Duchess Elsa\nand her train of ladies. Solemnly they marched with eyes downcast,\nwhile she, who but lately had been radiant with happiness, was sad and\npale. Her eyes, unseeing, stared in anguish straight ahead!\n\nThe King stepped quickly forward. He looked inquiringly into her face as\nhe led her to a seat beside him. Elsa could not meet his eyes. She\nmoistened her lips twice, thrice, but no sound came.\n\nJust then a shout arose from the men:\n\n  \"Hail, all hail,\n  The hero of Brabant!\"\n\nthey cried.\n\nThe Swan Knight entered. His armor glittered in the sunlight. A sword\nhung at his side, a horn from his shoulder. How strong he was! How\nbrave! But how strangely sad was his face. He advanced, helmet in hand,\nand stood before the King. Making a low obeisance, he strode toward the\nbier of the dead Frederick. He uncovered the body, and then solemnly\nasked the King's pardon for having killed this man who had stolen by\nstealth upon him.\n\n\"Nay, ask not our pardon!\" spoke the just King. \"We approve your deed!\"\n\nAnd all the men of Brabant nodded in assent.\n\nBut that was not all the Swan Knight had to tell. His wife, Elsa of\nBrabant, had broken her promise. She had asked his name. And since it\nwas a law of the Order to which he belonged, he would make public answer\nto her question. But then he must depart to the distant land from which\nhe had come.\n\nAstonishment spread like wildfire among the people. As for Elsa, she sat\nlike a creature of stone. Only Ortrud, who had crept near to listen,\nsmiled in ill-concealed triumph.\n\nThe Swan Knight's face was suffused with holy light. The eyes of his\nsoul seemed to be peering far, far away into the distance beyond the\nwinding river, beyond the gray hills, perhaps to the very gates of\nheaven itself.\n\nHe told the tale of a marvelous Temple rising from the heights of\nMount Salvat, wherein, upon a mystic shrine, rested the sacred chalice\ncalled the Holy Grail. He told of the few chosen knights who guarded the\nwondrous Grail, and who, by its Heaven-given powers, were protected from\nbaneful harm and endowed with supernatural might. Whenever an innocent\ncause needed a champion, whenever a grievous wrong had been done, one of\nthe knights sallied forth and defended the one who had been falsely\naccused. But it was a law that no one might know from whence he came or\nby what name he was called. For if once the truth were revealed, his\npower was gone; the knight must hasten back to the Temple of the Grail.\n\nThe Swan Knight's voice rose higher. Like some rare, sweet strain of\nmusic, it fell upon the air:\n\n  \"The Grail obeying, here to you I came;\n  My father Parsifal, a crown he weareth,\n  His Knight am I and Lohengrin my name!\"\n\nThe shadow of a great awe crept into the eyes of all who heard. They\nstared at Lohengrin in silence.\n\nOnly Elsa sank moaning to the ground. Lohengrin caught her in his arms.\n\n\"Oh, Elsa, dear one,\" he cried, \"why did you strive to learn my secret?\nNow I must leave you forever. Had you but remained faithful to your\npromise for one year, even your brother Godfrey would have come back to\nyou. Here is my sword, my horn, my ring. Should he ever return, give\nthem to him. The sword will help him in battle, the horn will give him\naid in an hour of need, and the ring will remind him of Lohengrin, who\ndefended you. Now farewell! The Grail calls me. My swan is here.\"\n\nWhile he had been speaking, the snow-white swan, drawing the empty boat,\nhad glided quietly up the winding river. It stood at the shore. The\npeople gazed at it mournfully. Even Lohengrin greeted it in sadness.\n\nSuddenly the dark-haired Ortrud, who had been watching, approached the\nshore. She leaned over the snow-white swan, and when she saw the golden\ncirclet about its neck, she laughed fiendishly.\n\n\"It is he!\" she cried. \"It is Godfrey! My magic changed him into a swan,\nand a swan he shall remain!\" and she grinned exultingly at Elsa.\n\nLohengrin, about to enter the boat, stopped at the sound of Ortrud's\nvoice. He listened a moment. Then he fell upon his knees and prayed,\nwhile all the people waited breathlessly.\n\nHis prayer was lifted up in silence and borne, who shall say where--to\nwhat High and Holy presence? For as he prayed a white dove descended and\nhovered over the boat.\n\nSeeing that his prayer was answered, Lohengrin rose to his feet\nenraptured. He took the chain from the neck of the swan. The swan sank\ninto the water. And where it had been stood Godfrey, the rightful Duke\nof Brabant.\n\nElsa fell into her brother's arms with a glad cry. Then together they\nwatched Lohengrin enter his boat which, drawn by the dove, glided slowly\ndown the winding river, and out of mortal sight forevermore.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE FLYING DUTCHMAN\n\n\nI\n\nA storm on the ocean is a fearful thing to see. It roars, it flashes, it\nraces huge waves mountain-high one after the other, it dashes them\nfuriously against the sharp rocks, it howls, it blows, and it tosses\ngreat ships about as though they were tiny toys.\n\nOnce, long, long ago there was just such a storm as this off the Cape of\nGood Hope, that most southern point of Africa. For the Evil Spirit who\nruled the seas in those days, and who had many servants to do his\nbidding, had ordered one of them, the Wind Storm, to sweep over the\nwaters far and wide. Perhaps the Evil Spirit wanted to add to the\ntreasures that he had gathered from all the ships he had\nwrecked--treasures that he kept far beneath the water.\n\nAt any rate, the Wind Storm did as he was told. He lashed the mighty\nwaves into anger so that they crashed against the jagged rocks of the\nCape, and all the ships that were abroad scudded swiftly along before\nhim in fear.\n\n\"Go home,\" whistled the Wind Storm through the sails. \"Go back to your\nsafe harbors. There is no room for you on this sea. I need it\nall--all--all.\"\n\nAnd the ships scurried into their harbors--all but one. The captain of\nthat ship was not afraid of the Wind Storm nor of the Evil Spirit,\neither, for that matter. His ship was strong, and so was his will. He\nwas determined to go around the Cape. He stood at the prow while the\nship rocked violently to and fro. The salt spray dashed over him, but\nstill he defied the Wind Storm.\n\n\"I will not go back,\" he cried, and he swore a mighty oath. \"I'll sail\non and round that Cape if I sail forever.\"\n\nNow the Evil Spirit happened to be lurking beneath the angry waters,\nand he heard the oath.\n\n\"Very well,\" cried he. \"Sail on forever and ever, then! Sail on until\nyou find a maiden fair who will be willing to die for love of you!\"\n\nAnd so it came to pass. Through all the long years that followed, the\nship sailed on and on. In fair or foul weather, over smooth or stormy\nseas, under blue or gray skies, the strange voyage continued year after\nyear.\n\nSometimes the captain in his despair would steer straight for the craggy\nrocks, hoping to be dashed to pieces, but the rocks would not harm his\nship. He steered in the path of terrible pirates, but when the pirates\nsaw the ship, they crossed themselves and hurried away. The blustering\ntempest would not harm it, nor the eddying whirlpool. It just sailed on\nand on.\n\nThe sailors, who had been young and lively, grew old and silent. Their\nhearts were as gray as their heads, for though the days grew into\nweeks, the weeks into years, the years into centuries, still there was\nno rest for them. Their faces became as white as ghosts, and some say\nthat the blood left their bodies and crept into the sails. At any rate,\nthe strong, white ship turned black and weather-beaten, and the strong,\nwhite sails, red, red as blood.\n\nOnly the captain remained forever young and handsome, and each seven\nyears as the ship sailed into some harbor, he was allowed to go on shore\nto seek the maiden fair who would deliver him and his crew from their\nfate and set them at rest. But alas! no such maiden had he ever found.\nMany maidens had he met and loved, and many had loved him, too, but to\nbe true to him forever and to die for him,--that was quite another\nmatter.\n\nAnd so each time \"The Flying Dutchman\" had gone on again, until once at\nthe end of a seven years' period he came to the coast of Norway.\n\n\nII\n\nHeigho, heigho! sang the sailors of a gay Norwegian bark as they cast\nanchor in a sheltered bay on the coast of Norway to escape the tempest,\nwhich had been tossing them about on the open sea. What though the south\nwind had driven them a few miles out of their course? The sunrise of\nanother day would find them safe at home after their long voyage. In\nfancy, they could already see the dear ones on the shore, waving,\nsmiling, welcoming! So \"heigho, heigho for to-morrow!\" sang they.\n\nOnly Daland, the captain, was full of gloom. Impatient was he, also, for\nhad he not expected to spend that very night by his own fireside with\nhis daughter Senta? And now to wait here, so near and yet so far, with a\nraging sea between him and his peaceful home, was an ordeal, indeed. To\nbattle with those angry waves had been no easy task, either. A little\nsleep would not harm him, thought he.\n\nNow you must know that in those days the seas were full of dread pirates\nand bold robbers who prowled about seeking plunder, and so, before\nDaland lay down to sleep, he called his steersman and bade him keep\nsharp watch. The steersman did--for a little while. But he, too, was\ntired. First he sang right lustily a merry song about the distant climes\nwhere he had traveled, and of the kind winds that would send him back to\nhis sweetheart. Soon, however, his voice faltered; it grew fainter and\nfainter. His head nodded once, twice. He, too, was asleep.\n\nThen, while no one watched, slowly, quietly, out of the west, came an\nold weather-beaten vessel with red, red sails, straight into that very\nbay. Only you and I know whence it came, and how endless had been its\nwanderings. So silently did it sail, so ghostly were its movements, that\nno one on all Daland's boat heard a single sound. No one heard the\nnoiseless dropping of the anchor, the lowering of those red, red sails.\nNor did any one hear the sigh of relief with which the worn sailors\ncrept away to their berths, nor see the hope and longing that lit their\npale faces as they saw their captain spring eagerly to the shore.\n\nPerhaps the captain stamped too heavily up and down on the wet sand,\nglad to feel the solid earth under his feet once more. Perhaps he raised\nhis arms to heaven and cried aloud to God to help him now find the\nmaiden fair who would love him truly forever. Why, I do not know, but\njust then Daland awoke with a start.\n\nA strange vessel alongside! How he chided the drowsy steersman! A\nstrange captain on the shore! Quickly he leaped to the sand to greet\nhim!\n\n\"Whence come you?\" asked Daland, \"and whither are you going?\"\n\nThe Dutchman replied but little. \"Holland,\" he said, \"and a wanderer\nseeking shelter for his vessel from the storm.\" Home he had none, nor\nwife, nor child, and gladly would he pay of his treasures for one night\nat somebody's hospitable hearth.\n\nAnd while Daland was marveling at this strange tale, and had begun to\ntell of his own home so near and yet so far away, the stranger, at a\nsign, had received a huge chest from his ship and was opening it before\nDaland's eyes.\n\nIf \"all the wild flowers of the forest, all the lilies of the prairie,\"\nall the glorious colors of sunrise and sunset, if the rainbow itself,\nhad been packed away in a chest to be suddenly opened before you,\nperhaps you would have been surprised, too. Gold was there, and silver\nwas there, and the white sheen of pearls, and the bright sparkle of\ndiamonds, and the deep glow of rubies, all there dancing, glittering, in\nDaland's astonished eyes. Was this some marvelous dream? When he found\nthat the treasure was real, he remembered Senta, and offered the\nDutchman his home for the night, telling him that his daughter ...\n\nThe Dutchman caught the word \"daughter.\" Had Daland a daughter? Would he\ngive her to him for a wife? And Daland, who had been thinking what a\nfine husband such a man, with a ship full of treasures, would be for his\ndaughter, lost no time, and said yes.\n\nThen hope came again to the heart of the Dutchman. He was impatient to\nsee this maiden who, he silently prayed, might be the one to deliver him\nfrom his fate. And while he prayed, the wind changed, the clouds broke,\na ray of sunshine peeped through, the sea became smooth as glass.\n\n\"You'll see her this day,\" said Daland.\n\nAnd so, bidding the sailors raise anchor, Daland went aboard his boat,\nthe Dutchman aboard his, and with a heigho, heigho, they sailed out of\nthe bay.\n\n\nIII\n\nDaland's home stood, as a sailor's home should, near the sea. Through\nits white-curtained windows one could see far out over the blue water,\nto the broad horizon, where ships hovered like white birds against the\nsky.\n\nInside the house all was as sweet and clean as the willing hands of old\nMarie, the house-keeper, could make it. The walls, rough and unpainted,\nwere almost covered with flat blue maps and sailor's charts, save where,\nover the wide doorway, a single picture hung.\n\nIt was the picture of a man; a man with a pale face, a long, black\nbeard, and strange, foreign-looking clothes. But I do not need to tell\nyou who he was. You know the story behind those melancholy eyes that\nlooked out so sadly from the picture. You have heard it this very day.\n\nHad you entered that sunny room on a certain afternoon long, long ago,\nyou would have seen a group of happy girls, under the direction of\nMarie, all diligently spinning. And, had you stopped to listen, you\nwould have heard merry chatter and light-hearted snatches of song\nmingled with the whir-r, whir-r, whir-r-r of those quick-turning wheels.\nHow they joked, and laughed, and sang, those girls of long ago!\n\nDid I say all? No, not all. For there was one who sat quite apart, her\nidle hands in her lap, her young face uplifted, and her dreaming eyes\nfixed on the portrait over the door. She was Senta, the daughter of\nDaland.\n\nOnce, when Senta was very young, old Marie had told her the history of\nthat pale man in the picture, and the sadness of his fate, and that of\nhis unhappy crew, had touched her tender heart. And, because she was an\nimaginative girl, who fancied strange things, the picture of the Flying\nDutchman, wandering over unknown seas, came back to her mind again and\nagain. She thought of him by day; she dreamed of him by night. She even\nbegan to imagine that God had destined her to be that maiden fair whose\nlove would deliver him from his mournful roaming. But certainly she\nnever breathed such a strange thought to a single soul.\n\nUntil that day! Then, as all the busy girls laughingly teased her for\nher idleness, and twitted her for being in love with a mere shadow\ninstead of with the real, strong, young hunter Eric, who wanted to marry\nher, she grew impatient. To still their chatter, she cried out\nfretfully:\n\n\"Oh, girls, cease your foolish songs and your spinning! I am tired of\nall the humming and buzzing. Do you want me to join you? Listen, and\nI'll sing the ballad of the Flying Dutchman. Then you'll know why his\nsad fate touches my heart.\"\n\nSenta began her singing. The girls stopped their wheels to listen, and\nas they listened, their eyes grew round with wonder. They, too, pitied\nthe poor captain and his unhappy crew. But when Senta described these\naimless wanderings that nothing could change except that maiden fair who\nwould be willing to die for love, the girls interrupted her.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried they. \"Where in all the world is there such a maiden?\"\n\n\"Here!\" answered Senta, and she sang:\n\n  \"Angel above, oh! bring to me\n  The pale man sailing o'er the sea!\"\n\nDo you wonder that all the girls, even Marie, started up in alarm when\nthey heard that strange prayer? No doubt they thought Senta had gone out\nof her mind. Loudly they called, until Eric the hunter came running into\nthe room. He reasoned, he pleaded with Senta, but all in vain. She could\nthink of nothing but the story of the man whose picture hung on the\nwall.\n\nJust when the excitement was greatest, a cry from without told of the\napproach of Daland's boat. There was no time for foolish thoughts, then.\nA meal must be prepared, the table set, the glasses filled! Away hurried\nthe girls and old Marie.\n\nIn a moment Daland was at the door. Who was that pale visitor, so\nstrangely like the picture above his head, entering behind him? Senta\nstared from one to the other. She could scarcely greet her father. She\nknew at once who this stranger was, just as you know and as I know. But\nDaland knew not.\n\nHe, proud and happy, thinking of that ship full of treasures, lost no\ntime in telling Senta that this was the man he had chosen to be her\nhusband on the morrow, if she were willing.\n\nSenta was quite willing, for had she not loved this stranger for a long,\nlong time? As for the Flying Dutchman, he gazed into those trusting\neyes, and was filled with a great joy and a greater hope. Often when\ntossed about on the cruel waves had he dreamed of a maiden just as\nfair, just as pure as this one who now stood before him. If she would\nbut be constant, all would be well, thought he. And, as he gazed, he\nheard her sweet voice saying,\n\n  \"Whoever thou art, whatever thy fate,\n  I will be thy love, I will be thy mate.\"\n\n\nIV\n\nThe marriage feast was quickly prepared. The jolly sailor boys, the\npretty peasant girls, all lent helping hands, and soon the merrymaking\non board the gayly lighted ship began. Only on the black ship with the\nred sails was there darkness and silence.\n\nSuddenly a young girl walked hastily down to the shore. It was Senta,\nthe daughter of Daland, and closely following her, came Eric the hunter.\nHe begged her to hearken to his wooing once more. He pleaded with her to\ngive up that mysterious stranger who had come between them. Had she\nforgotten all her promises? Must her father's rash command be obeyed?\n\nBecause Eric was an old friend, and because Senta was a kind-hearted\ngirl, she listened patiently to all that he had to say. Not that a\nsingle word could have altered her determination to live and to die, if\nneed be, for the Flying Dutchman. She loved him too well for that.\n\nEven while she listened to Eric, she thought tenderly of her new lover\nand of how good God had been to allow her to be the maiden fair who\nwould relieve his endless suffering.\n\nPerhaps it was just that tender thought showing in her face that the\nDutchman mistook for regret. For, at that very moment, when Eric was\npleading so earnestly, and Senta was listening so patiently, the\nDutchman came down to the shore.\n\nHe looked first at Eric, then at Senta, and like a flash came the\nthought that here was another girl who would not keep her promise.\nThere had been so many like that. He did not stop to ask or to reason.\nFrantic with disappointment and despair, he rushed blindly over the\nrocks toward his ship.\n\n\"To sea! To sea forevermore!\" cried he.\n\nNow, you know Senta had not ceased loving him at all. So, although Eric\ntried to detain her, she ran swiftly after the Dutchman. She clung to\nhim, crying out her love, and vowing eternal faithfulness again and\nagain. So loudly did she cry, that Daland and Marie came hurrying, too.\n\nThe Dutchman managed to loosen her arms, to free himself. He waved her\nback, and a great change came over his face. Gone were all thoughts of\nhimself and of his sad fate. He thought only of this pure maiden who was\nwilling to die for his sake. He knew now that he loved her too well to\nlet her pay such an awful price. Rather would he sail on and on\nforever.\n\nWarning her not to come nearer, he leaped into his boat. Then, as the\ngray sailors unfurled the red, red sails and the black ship plunged\nforward, he stretched out his arms and told who he was. \"The Flying\nDutchman am I, the Scourge of the Sea,\" he shouted.\n\nDaland, Marie, Eric, crossed themselves and looked after him in horror.\nNot so, Senta. She had always known who he was. She would save him. She\nwould be faithful until death. With a glad cry, she leaped forward and\ncast herself into the seething sea.\n\nThe waves closed over her. And as they closed a strange thing happened.\nAt the very same moment, the black ship, the red sails, the sailors, all\ndisappeared. Only a rosy light lay over the water where they had been.\nAnd in that rosy light, which ascended from the blue water to the blue\nsky, were seen, in close embrace, the angel forms of the Flying Dutchman\nand his maiden fair, floating onward and upward, toward their eternal\nrest.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE WARTBURG]\n\n\n\n\nTANNHAEUSER, THE MINSTREL KNIGHT\n\n\nI\n\nThis is a tale of long ago. It is a tale of the days of knighthood and\nminstrelsy; of the days when field and forest rang with the clash of\narms, and baronial halls echoed with the sound of harp and voice; when\nbrave knights vied with one another not only in jousts and tourneys at\narms, but in tournaments of song as well.\n\nIn those strange days a majestic castle, called the Wartburg, stood on a\nlofty peak overlooking the green and peaceful valleys of Thuringia. The\nLandgrave Herman and his niece, the beautiful Princess Elizabeth, lived\nthere, and they were attended by a splendid court of nobles, knights,\nand fair ladies.\n\nThe Wartburg was the scene of many gay festivals. Time and again the\ngood people of Thuringia would gather from near and far to watch\ngallant, armor-clad knights ride out with lance and spear to mimic\nwarfare. But more often they would gather within the great castle hall\nto listen to the melodies of well-tuned harps and sweet-voiced singers\nin tournaments of song.\n\nThe white hand of the beautiful Princess placed the laurel wreath of\nvictory most often upon the brow of one bold young Minstrel Knight,\nTannhaeuser by name. His was the rarest gift of poetry, his the sweetest\nvoice. Nor was any one more beloved than he. His prowess in battle, his\nskill with lance and spear, his fearless eye, had made him a favorite of\nthe Landgrave; while his noble bearing, the light touch of his fingers\nupon the harp strings, and his clear young voice had won the heart of\nthe proud Princess.\n\nBut Tannhaeuser, unmindful of these great gifts of fortune, had, in a\nrash moment, quarreled with his companions. Angry beyond reason,\nforgetful of both friendship and love, he had cast himself away from the\nWartburg, and had sought the solace of solitude.\n\nOpposite the Wartburg, black and foreboding against the blue of the sky,\nlike a giant of old, towered a mountain, the Horselburg. And thither,\nsad to relate, the footsteps of the errant Minstrel Knight led the way.\n\nNow, it seems that when Venus, the Goddess of Love, was banished from\nthe earth, she hid herself away from the eyes of all righteous men, deep\nwithin the heart of that very mountain, the Horselburg. Brooding over\nher fancied wrongs, she lived there and plotted evil against mankind.\nHer domain was a wonderful cave, all shadows and mystery; and her\nsubjects were strange creatures of the underworld. And, the story went,\nfrom a couch of gold where she sat arrayed in richest garments, she\nlured guileless wanderers through an unseen portal in the mountain\nside, straight into her kingdom. And while her siren voice cast its\nspell, while her fatal beauty wove its charm, the poor wanderer was\npowerless. He followed, and followed, forever and a day, and knew not\nwhere. But the face of the earth saw him no more.\n\nDo you wonder, with such a story abroad, that the Horselburg was shunned\nby old and young? But what cared the bold Minstrel Knight for strange\ngoddesses or their powers? Tannhaeuser was clad in all the trappings of\nknighthood; he had his armor, his lance; the harp of his minstrelsy hung\nby his side. So he came to the foot of the Horselburg, dreamily,\nheedlessly, but unafraid.\n\nStill, as he paused to rest beneath an over-hanging rock at the mouth of\na cave, he fancied that he heard the sound of rushing water. He started,\nlooking both to the right and to the left. There was no water to be\nseen. A moment later the faint tinkle of bells fell upon his ear; then\nthe echo of a distant melody followed. He arose and peered into the\ncave. His venturesome spirit prompted him to take one step\nforward,--then another. Through the shadows he detected the glimmer of\nmany lights, now red, now violet, now blue. What was the rosy haze that\nenveloped him? And the faint music that drew him on and on? A delicate\nodor assailed his nostrils. A delicious languor overcame him. \"Where am\nI?\" he called. But the only answer was the clang as of a closing door,\nand the sound of a rippling laugh. A moment later, led by unseen magic,\nblinded by light and overpowered by sound, he stumbled into a region of\nenchantment, into the presence of Venus herself.\n\nA fascinating, bewitching goddess was Venus, and Tannhaeuser lingered at\nher feet for a long time. Her magic drew a veil before his eyes, which\nblinded and enthralled him. And he mistook the mocking cruelty of her\nface for beauty and the lure of her glance for kindness and love. So he\nplayed upon his harp and sang marvelous new songs to her and knelt\nbefore her to pay her homage. He forgot all about the past, his\nknighthood, his minstrelsy, his home, his friends. He even forgot his\nGod.\n\nNymphs danced before him, elfin creatures made music for him, strange\nflowers delighted his eyes, and all was an unceasing round of pleasure\nday after day. There was no sun to shine, no moon, no stars. Spring\nnever came, nor winter. It was all as though the world had never been.\n\nStill there came a day at last when Tannhaeuser awoke. He awoke as if\nfrom a dream. For a sound had pierced the very rocks and reached his\nears. It was the chime of distant church bells.\n\nTannhaeuser ran his hand across his forehead and staggered to his feet.\nHe remembered.\n\nWith the remembrance came a loathing and a longing that were pain. He\nhated the perfume-laden mists about him, the strange flowers, and the\nnymphs with their songs and endless whirling dances. He longed for a\nbreath of pure woodland air, for the sight of rain-freshened grass, for\nthe sound of the lark's song at dawn.\n\nSo he seized his harp and sang to Venus and begged her to let him go\nback to earth.\n\n\"Oh, goddess,\" he implored, \"let me go.\"\n\nBut Venus only smiled a dreamy smile and spoke in soft whispers of the\ncharm of her domain. And the dancers circled about in a maddening whirl,\never faster and faster. The odor of the strange flowers became still\nheavier. Sparkling points of light gleamed among the shadows. A\nmysterious blue lake appeared in the hazy distance, and misty clouds of\nrose and gold floated in the air.\n\nBut Tannhaeuser still remembered. He loathed the never-ending delights;\nthe ceaseless ease and rest; the songs, the odors, the mist. Ah! for\nbut a sight of Heaven's clear blue, its clouds and sun of noonday, its\nmoon and stars of night; the changing round of seasons, seed time and\nharvest; the mingled joys and pains; and work, thrice-blessed work!\n\nTannhaeuser took up his harp and sang to Venus once more. The strings\nrang with the vigor of his touch; his voice soared high in\nheart-stirring refrain. He promised that as long as he had life he would\nsing the praises of Venus. Wherever he might roam, her name--and hers\nalone--would bring a song to his lips. As her champion would he fare\nforth upon the earth again. All this he promised, if she would only set\nhim free.\n\nAnger overwhelmed the goddess--but she hesitated no longer. Let him\nspread her fame and name through the upper world that had banished her!\nWith one sweep of her arms she broke the chains of enchantment that\nbound Tannhaeuser fast. Crying,--\n\n\"If all hope is lost, return to me!\" she bade him depart.\n\nAt that moment a terrific crash rent the air. It seemed as though the\nearth had been burst asunder. The mists, the gleaming figures, the cave,\ndisappeared; and--\n\nTannhaeuser found himself lying on a grassy knoll in a sunlit valley. On\none side was the black and gloomy Horselburg; on the other a lofty peak\ncrowned by the Wartburg, stately, grand, majestic, as of yore.\n\nFlowers bloomed all about; the sky was serene and beautiful; birds sang;\na gentle breeze swayed the trees.\n\nFrom the cliff above came the sound of a pipe. A young shepherd was\nwatching his flock there, and he sang a tender little song, all\nsweetness and melody. The simple beauty of it, the purity, touched\nTannhaeuser's heart, and as he listened his eyes filled with tears.\n\nSuddenly the sonorous tones of men's voices filled the air. Then down\nthe winding pathway and through the valley came the tramp, tramp,\ntramp, of many feet. And to the solemn strains of a song of prayer a\nband of pilgrims passed slowly by on the way to Rome to seek pardon for\ntheir sins. The little shepherd bared his head until the last pilgrim\nhad passed him by. Then, waving his cap, he shouted:\n\n\"God speed, God speed! Say one prayer for me!\"\n\nBut Tannhaeuser sat as one spellbound, until all at once, deeply\novercome, he fell upon his knees. Ah, where could _he_ look for pardon\nfor _his_ sins? The memory of all that ill-spent time in the Venusburg\nrushed upon him. Could he pray to the God whom he had forgotten? Tears\nchoked his voice, and although a prayer arose from his heart it found no\nutterance. He lay prone upon the ground, weeping bitterly.\n\nThe song of the pilgrims, the measured tread of their feet, grew faint\nand still fainter. It died away in the distance. Quiet ruled the\npeaceful valley again, for even the shepherd boy had gathered his flock\nand gone silently away.\n\nSoon, however, the cheery sound of hunters' horns and the answering bay\nof dogs broke the silence. A moment later, a pack of dogs ran down the\nforest path from the Wartburg, followed by the Landgrave Herman and his\nKnights, all clad in hunting dress.\n\nSeeing the figure of a knight lying upon the ground, their curiosity was\nat once aroused. One of the party, Sir Wolfram, ran hastily forward. A\nsingle glance was enough.\n\n\"Tannhaeuser!\" he cried. \"Is it you?\"\n\nTannhaeuser arose hastily, striving to control his emotion and bowed\nmutely to the Landgrave.\n\nAt first the Knights were uncertain whether he had come back as friend\nor foe. But his humble, downcast looks soon spoke for him. So they\nwelcomed him gladly into their midst.\n\nBut Tannhaeuser was loath to stay. He knew that if once the Knights\nlearned where he had been, they would shrink from him in horror. Looking\ninto their friendly faces, he was overwhelmed with disgust for all that\nwicked time in the Venusburg. He longed to fly from their sight.\n\nSince he would not listen to the entreaties of the Landgrave and his\nKnights, Sir Wolfram, Tannhaeuser's old friend, added his plea:\n\n\"Have you forgotten Elizabeth?\" he asked.\n\n\"Elizabeth!\" Tannhaeuser exclaimed in a tone of awe,--Elizabeth, the\nbeautiful Princess, whose name he had forgotten--what of her?\n\nThen Wolfram, speaking softly,--for he loved the beautiful princess\nalso,--told Tannhaeuser all. He told of that rare prize--the Princess's\nlove--which had remained constant during Tannhaeuser's long absence. Many\nKnights had striven to win her, but she had remained true to the one who\nhad gone away. While Tannhaeuser had strayed in distant lands, she had\nstayed in her bower saddened and alone, never gracing the tournaments\nwith her presence, never coming forth to witness joust or tourney. Would\nhe forsake a love like that?\n\nDeeply touched, Tannhaeuser listened until the end. Then the light of a\ngreat joy and a great hope illumined his face. If Elizabeth, the proud\nPrincess, had not forgotten him, perhaps he might still continue as a\nMinstrel Knight in the Wartburg.\n\n\"Lead me to her,\" he cried,--\"to her.\"\n\nSo the Landgrave sounded his horn, and to the lively baying of the dogs\nand the joyous song of the Knights the whole party proceeded to the\nWartburg.\n\n\nII\n\nWhen the news of Tannhaeuser's return spread through the Wartburg, there\nwas great rejoicing. Smiles of gladness appeared on every face. Tall\nknights held out hands of welcome; small pages hastened to do him honor.\nHim whom they should have loathed, they greeted as a comrade, hailed as\na hero. For they knew not where he had been.\n\nAnd the joy of the Princess Elizabeth surpassed that of all the rest.\nMisery vanished from her face. Delight took its place. All her years of\nsadness were forgotten, and as she entered the Hall of the Minstrels, a\nsong of joy sprang unbidden from her lips. Had not the knight to whom\nshe had given her heart returned from his wanderings in foreign lands?\nAnd would he not take his place among the minstrels as of old in a\nTournament of Song on that very day? His melodious harp and his rich\nvoice would ring out once again, and hers would be the hand to crown him\nwith the wreath of victory.\n\nThe Princess smiled happily as she walked through the great hall and\njoined her uncle, the Landgrave, upon the throne. The Landgrave watched\nher approach, and his face beamed with pride. Was there ever a more\nbeautiful Princess? Her lovely face was aglow. Her eyes shone with a\nluster as deep as that of the jewels about her neck. Her skin was fairer\nthan the lilies that she held in her hand. From the shining tresses of\nher hair where a little golden crown sent out glittering sparks of light\nto the last heavy fold of silvery satin that trailed behind her, she was\na creature to be honored, to be reverenced, to be loved.\n\n\"How glad I am to have you at my side once more!\" whispered the\nLandgrave as they made ready to receive the nobles and fair ladies who\nhad been bidden to the contest. For already the measured tread of many\nfeet was heard in the distance.\n\nPresently through the pillared doorway, to the sound of martial music\nand the fluttering of flags, the guests entered the hall, and in stately\nprocession approached the throne. Then, after a bow from the Landgrave\nand a word of greeting from the Princess, the pages led each to a place\nin the huge semicircle of seats that half filled the hall.\n\nWhen all had arrived, the Landgrave arose, and, turning first to his\nguests and then to the Minstrels who were seated on low benches facing\nthem all, made his address of greeting. He told of the many song\nfestivals that had been held within the ancient hall, and how\neach had added to the fair fame of the nation. Many deeds, many\nemotions, had been celebrated in song, said he, but the sweetest of\nall--Love--remained--and would be the theme of that day's contest.\n\nThe minstrel who could sing most worthily about love would receive\nlove's prize as a reward--the hand of Elizabeth, the Princess.\n\n\"Up then, arouse ye! sing, O gallant minstrels! attune your harps to\nlove! Great is the prize.\"\n\nA great shout of approval marked the end of the Landgrave's speech.\n\n\"Hail, all hail, Lord of Thuringia!\" cried hundreds of voices.\n\nWhen all was still, two little pages carried a golden cup containing the\nnames of the singers to the Princess. She drew one folded paper and\nhanded it to the pages. They read the name and then advanced to the\nmiddle of the hall. In high, clear voices they called out,--\n\n\"Sir Wolfram von Eschenbach, begin!\"\n\nThere was a short pause while Sir Wolfram rose to his feet. Tannhaeuser\nsat, as if in a dream, leaning upon his harp. His eyes strayed through\nthe open doorway far across the peaceful valley to the dark and gloomy\nmountain beyond. And though an inner voice whispered: \"Turn away your\neyes, Sir Knight! 'Tis the abode of evil to which your thoughts are\nwandering. Have a care, or magic power will rule you again!\" he heeded\nit not.\n\nBut the eyes of Wolfram sought the pure face of the Princess on the\nthrone. His hands evoked a tender, rippling strain from the harp--and he\nbegan to sing.\n\nHe sang a quiet song of unselfish love, pure love, which doubts not and\ntrusts ever; which gives more than it seeks.\n\nHe sang of a love, half sacrifice, wholly devotion--which asks nothing,\nwants nothing, but gives, always gives. His song fell like a gentle\nprayer upon the ears of his listeners.\n\n\"Bravo!\" they cried, when he had finished. \"You have done well, Sir\nWolfram. Bravo!\"\n\nAnd they clapped their hands and nodded in approval, whispering and\nsmiling at one another. All but Tannhaeuser. His face had changed. It had\nbecome angry, impatient, defiant. This gentle strain that spoke of\nendless devotion and sacrifice; was that love? No, no. He arose\nabruptly. He seemed to be looking beyond the familiar hall and the\nwell-known faces, to some unseen vision of delight. An uncanny smile\nplayed about his lips. He touched the harp strings, and they jangled\nwith strange harmonies. The people were startled, alarmed. They half\nrose from their seats. Was it madness that inspired the knight? Ah! if\nthey but knew.\n\nTannhaeuser, heeding naught, lifted his voice and sang. And while he\nsang, the spell of enchantment enmeshed him again. Rose-colored mists\nswam before his eyes and blinded him. He heard the far-off strains of\nmusic, he saw the dancing figures, and a siren voice urged him on. He\nthought of endless pleasure, ceaseless delight. Again he forgot work,\nthrice-blessed work. He forgot the ancient hall; he forgot the pure\npresence of Elizabeth; he forgot his God. He sang a wicked song, an evil\nsong, a song of sinful pleasure, a song of Venus. He had vowed that he\nwould sing her praises forevermore. Now he would keep his word. His\nvoice soared high in a wild hymn of praise.\n\n\"Would you know love?\" he cried, flinging aside his harp and stretching\nout his arms:\n\n\"Fly to Venus. She can teach you!\"\n\nHis words struck the people like a thunder-bolt and left them stunned,\nhorrified. Suddenly, like a wave of anger, arose the tumult of cries.\n\n\"Listen! Hear him! Oh! Most horrible! He has been in the Venusburg.\"\n\nThe ladies hurried in consternation and affright from the hall. Only\nElizabeth stood, pale and trembling, leaning against the throne. All her\ndelight was turned to misery once more.\n\nThe Landgrave, the minstrels, the nobles, gathered together and gazed\nwith horror upon Tannhaeuser, who, oblivious of all save the evil vision,\ngazed enraptured, straight ahead.\n\nThe horror of the men soon gave way to indignation, the indignation in\nturn to fury and hatred. As from one throat, a mighty shout went up,--\n\n\"Kill him!\"\n\nAnd with one accord they drew their swords and pressed upon Tannhaeuser\nto slay him. But at that instant a white figure with trailing draperies\nrushed toward them. She threw herself before Tannhaeuser, shielding him\nwith her body. It was Elizabeth, the Princess.\n\n\"Stop,\" she cried. \"Stay your hands!\"\n\nThe men fell back in amazement as she fell upon her knees before them.\nShe, the proud Princess, most cruelly wronged, would she shield one who\nhad fallen so low?\n\nYes, she would shield him, even with her life. He had sinned. Ah, how he\nhad sinned! But he had sinned against God, and God must be his judge.\nWho were they to judge him and deny him the opportunity to repent? Would\nthey rob his soul of its eternal peace? Thus she pleaded and begged for\nTannhaeuser's life, while tears rained down her white cheeks.\n\nThe men were touched. Anger slowly gave way to calm. One by one they\nsheathed their swords and turned toward the Landgrave.\n\nMeanwhile Tannhaeuser, at the sound of Elizabeth's pleading voice, turned\nhis head. As though just awakened from an evil dream, he stared at her\nkneeling figure, the drawn swords, the horror-stricken faces. Suddenly\nhe remembered all that he had said, all that he had done. The enormity\nof his sin rushed upon him. He realized how he had outraged friendship,\nlove, religion, all that was holy, pure, and good. In fearful contrition\nhe fell upon the floor, sobbing and crying out in his misery and\ndistress. Where could he look for pardon now?\n\nSuddenly, through the open doorway, there came the sound of the song of\nthe pilgrim band on its way to Rome. It was a song of prayer and praise,\na song of repentance and confession, a song of peace with God. It\nbrought hope and a promise of comfort.\n\nSilence filled the great hall as the notes died away in the distance.\nOnly Elizabeth's face, white and pleading, was lifted toward the\nLandgrave's in silent prayer.\n\nThe Landgrave gazed at Tannhaeuser's bent figure, and feelings of pity\nmingled with the loathing he felt. Advancing solemnly toward Tannhaeuser,\nhe bade him arise and join the band of pilgrims now on its way to Rome.\nNo other way was open to one who had sinned as he had sinned. And, if\nafter confession, he was pardoned for his grievous wrong, he might\nreturn to the Wartburg. Otherwise they never wished to see him again.\n\nAt these words Tannhaeuser sprang to his feet. The echo of the pilgrim's\nvoice still lingered in the air. He listened a moment while a ray of\nhope illumined his anguish-stricken face. Then with a cry \"To Rome! To\nRome!\" he hastened from the room.\n\n[Illustration: TANNHAEUSER AT THE BIER OF ELIZABETH\n(After a painting by Von Kaulbach)]\n\n\nIII\n\nThe road to Rome was rough and thorny, beset with hardship, fraught with\nsuffering. But Tannhaeuser, full of new-found hope, wholly repentant,\nlonging for pardon, pushed eagerly onward. No pilgrim was of humbler\nmien, nor was any of more contrite spirit. The thought of Elizabeth's\ndevotion and her prayers dispelled all his former pride of sin, and made\nthe hardships of the journey seem all too light for his remorseful soul.\nWhen other pilgrims sought smooth pathways through meadow and valley, he\ntrod unshod amid rocks and thorns. When they refreshed their lips at\ncool mountain springs, he continued hungry and thirsty on his way. Snow\nand ice did not daunt him, nor the scorching rays of the sun, nor the\ntempest's roar. He gave of his life blood freely and faltered not. The\nother pilgrims found shelter and rest in hospices high up among the\nmountains. He made his bed in the drifting snow, the ice, the cold. Lest\nthe beauty of Italy delight his eyes, he went blindfolded over its\nvine-clad hills, through its blooming meadows. For his heart burned with\npenitence, and his soul ached for pardon.\n\nThus the weeks lengthened into months, and a long year went by. At last\nthe chime of bells was heard in the distance; the white towers of Rome\nwere outlined against the blue Italian sky.\n\nWeary and footsore, the pilgrims crept one by one to the holy shrine,\nand, one by one, each was told that his sins would be forgiven and was\nbidden to go rejoicing on his way and sin no more.\n\nFinally Tannhaeuser's time came. With a cry of relief he prostrated\nhimself before the throne and confessed his awful sin, his wasted years,\nhis deep repentance. He had dwelt in an unholy place, he had been the\nslave of sinful pleasure, he had blasphemed his God,--but awakening had\ncome at last. Was there pardon for such as he?\n\nThe first solemn words of answer with their accents of horror brought\nTannhaeuser to his feet in terror. As in a dream he listened. No. There\ncould be no pardon for such a sin. He was pronounced accursed\nforevermore.\n\nThe judgment continued:\n\n    \"As this barren staff I hold\n  Ne'er will put forth a flower or a leaf\n    Thus shalt thou never more behold\n  Salvation or thy sins relief.\"\n\nTannhaeuser heard no more. Hopeless and despairing, he staggered wildly\nfrom the room and away into the darkness. What mattered it which way he\nwandered--now, since he was an outcast and accursed forever? Ah, to find\na path that would lead to forgetfulness!\n\nThe pilgrims had already gone on their way homeward to Thuringia. From\nout of the distance, their joyous song of praise fell upon the air.\nTannhaeuser took up his staff and followed in their wake, hopeless and\nalone.\n\nMeanwhile throughout the long year the Princess Elizabeth had waited and\nprayed day after day. And Sir Wolfram, watching her devotion from afar,\nhad grieved to see her body become weak with pain, and her face white\nand drawn with sorrow and suffering.\n\nAt last there came a day when, kneeling at her shrine on the forest\npath, the sound of the pilgrims' return broke in upon her prayers.\n\n\"They have come back!\" she whispered as she rose to her feet.\n\nThe song, the steady tramp of feet, grew louder and louder. On and on\ncame the pilgrims. And, singing of God's goodness and His divine grace,\nthey passed Elizabeth and Wolfram, one by one. But he for whom she had\nprayed was not among them. He had not returned. He had not been\nforgiven. Her prayers had been in vain. All her strength was gone. With\na last look at the valley lying peaceful, in the glow of early eventide,\nand with a farewell glance at Sir Wolfram, she passed wearily upward\ntoward the castle.\n\nNight fell. The sky grew dark with clouds save where, over the Wartburg,\na single star hung. Suddenly, through the gloom, a dejected and footsore\nwanderer made his way. It was Tannhaeuser.\n\nAs his eyes fell upon the familiar scene, and upon Sir Wolfram, in\nknightly array, all his misery rushed upon him anew. Oh, if he could but\nfind the path that led to forgetfulness, the path of pleasure, the path\nto Venus! In the days of his care-free youth, it had been but a step,\nbut now, laden with sin, weighted with the knowledge of evil, bowed with\nrepentance and suffering, his feet would not lead him there. With a loud\ncry he stretched forth his arms and called,--\n\n\"Venus, goddess, do you hear my call?\"\n\nSuddenly the roseate light, the same alluring sounds of music, the same\nsweet odors, enthralled him again. Venus, reclining upon her couch,\nappeared amid the rosy clouds.\n\n\"Take me!\" cried Tannhaeuser, rushing forward to throw himself beside\nher.\n\nAt that moment, the slow and solemn chant of a funeral dirge sounded\nfrom afar. Tannhaeuser started. His arms fell by his side. He turned his\nhead. Down the path from the Wartburg, the Knights were bearing a bier.\nLighted torches were at the head, the foot. A bell was tolling. Voices\nwere singing in praise of Elizabeth, the beautiful Princess, who had\ngone to join the angel band, the fairest angel of all the host.\n\n\"Ah! Elizabeth!\" exclaimed Tannhaeuser. With a despairing cry, he\nstaggered toward the bier. Ah, yes, it was she, she who had prayed for\nhim, she who had loved him more than he knew. Better death beside her\nthan life in sin! Bending over Elizabeth's body, he sank slowly to the\nground, and God took him home.\n\nFor it is said that not long afterward the barren staff of the head of\nthe church blossomed and put forth leaves of green. And thus the Lord in\nHis mercy forgave Tannhaeuser, the sinner, and entered him into the\nKingdom of Heaven.\n\n\nPrinted in the United States of America.\n\n\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n  In the Table of Contents, Page 155 has been changed to the correct\n    page, 156.\n\n  Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from\n    the original.","title":"Great opera stories : $b taken from original sources in old German","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":27747}