d
the Klingsor slavery into which she must next relapse in spite of
herself.

And is this the guileless one? This wild youth who slays the fair
swan--who knows not his own name nor whence he comes, nor whither he
goes, nor what are his destinies? The old knight eyes him curiously--he
will put him to the test. This youth had seen the king pass once--he had
marked his pain. Was he "enlightened by pity"? Is he the appointed
deliverer? The old knight now invites him to the shrine of the Grail.
"What is the Grail?" asks the youth. Truly a guileless, innocent one!
yet a brave and pure knight, since he has known no evil, and so readily
repents of a fault committed in ignorance.

Gurnemanz is strangely drawn to him. He shall see the Grail, and in the
Holy Palace, what time the mystic light streams forth and the assembled
knights bow themselves in prayer, the voice which comforted Amfortas
shall speak to his deliverer and bid him arise and heal the king.

* * * * *

Gurnemanz and Parsifal have ceased to speak. They stand in the glowing
light of the summer-land. The tide of music rolls on continuously, but
sounds more strange and dreamy.

Is it a cloud passing over the sky? There seems to be a shuddering in
the branches--the light fades upon yonder sunny woodlands--the
foreground darkens apace. The whole scene is moving, but so slowly that
it seems to change like a dissolving view. I see the two figures of
Gurnemanz and Parsifal moving through the trees--they are lost behind
yonder rock. They emerge farther off--higher up. The air grows very dim;
the orchestra peals louder and louder. I lose the two in the deepening
twilight. The forest is changing, the land is wild and mountainous. Huge
galleries and arcades, rock-hewn, loom through the dim forest; but all
is growing dark. I listen to the murmurs of the "Grail," the "Spear,"
the "Pain," the "Love and Faith" motives--hollow murmurs, confused,
floating out of the depths of lonely caves. Then I have a feeling of
void and darkness, and there comes a sighing as of a soul swooning away
in a trance, and a vision of waste places and wild caverns; and then
through the confused dream I hear the solemn boom of mighty bells, only
muffled. They keep time as to some ghastly march. I strain my eyes into
the thick gloom before me. Is it a rock, or forest, or palace?

As the light returns slowly, a hall of more than Alhambralike splendor
opens before me. My