l care for him. Kundry hastens for water with which to
wet his temples, and, as he revives, offers him drink. Gurnemanz
is struck by the magnanimity of her action. "That is right," he
nods his approval, "that is in accordance with the gracious spirit
of the Grail. We banish evil when we return good for it." Kundry
turns sadly away: "I never do good! ... All I desire is rest!...
Rest!" And while Gurnemanz is still occupied with restoring Parsifal,
she slowly walks, as if powerfully drawn and intensely resisting,
toward a tangled copse. She appears struggling with inexpressible
weariness; the music gives a hint of something unnatural and evil
in the spell of sleep falling leadenly upon her, expressing at
the same time an irresistible element in it of attraction. The
dark, wild-haired messenger of the Grail, the despised subordinate,
suddenly assumes to our sense a much greater importance than up
to this moment. Her personality looms large with an unexplained
effect of tragedy. "Only rest! Rest for the weary one!" she murmurs
yearningly; "sleep! Oh, let nobody wake me!" Terror checks her for
a moment: "No! No! I must not sleep!" she shudders, "I am afraid!"
She falls to violent trembling. But whatever it is compelling her is
too strong at last. Her arms fall unnerved, her head bows languidly,
and she moves feebly whither she is drawn. "Useless resistance!
... The hour is come. Sleep.... Sleep.... I must!" Having reached
the thicket she drops on the earth among the bushes.

The sun is now high, the king is borne homeward from the bath. The
thought has struck Gurnemanz that here under his hands is surely
as exquisite a _Thor_ as could well be, and the experiment suggests
itself of taking him to the temple, where, as he tells him, if he
be pure, the Grail will be to him meat and drink. He places the
arm of the still strengthless youth about his neck, and gently
upholds him as they start on their way. "Who is the Grail?" asks
Parsifal, as they walk. "That may not be put into words," replies
Gurnemanz, "but, if you are of the chosen, you cannot fail to learn.
And, see now! I believe I know who you are. No road leads through
the land to the Grail, and no one could find the way except Itself
guided him...." "I am scarcely moving," says the wondering boy,
"yet it seems to me we have already gone a long way...."

And, indeed, the forest has been miraculously gliding past. It ends
before a granite wall in which a great portal stan