castle had been reached, his followers,
among whom Gurnemanz, missed him. A woman of dreadful beauty had
ensnared him. In her arms he forgot everything, he let the Spear drop
from his hand.... A great cry, as of one mortally hurt, Gurnemanz
relates, was suddenly heard. He rushed to the rescue, and caught
sight of Klingsor, laughing as he disappeared carrying the Spear,
with which he had wounded Amfortas. And now, possessed of the Spear,
it was Klingsor's boast that he should soon be in possession of the
Chalice likewise, the Holy Grail itself. And the wound of Amfortas
would not heal, and an apprehension was that never could it heal,
save at the touch of the Spear which made it. And this, who could
conquer it back? Yet the knights were not wholly without hope, for,
Amfortas once praying before the despoiled sanctuary, and imploring a
sign of pardon, a holy dream-face had appeared to him and delivered
the dim but comforting oracle: "Wise through compassion.... The
immaculate Fool.... Await him.... My appointed one...."

Thus matters stand when the curtain rises for us upon the forest
surrounding the Castle of the Grail. The introductory music is
wholly religious, composed principally of the so moving phrase
of the Last Communion, the Grail-motif and the Faith-music. The
latter opens with what has the effect of a grand declaration, as
if it might be understood to say: "I believe in God the Father!
I believe in God the Son! I believe in God the Holy Ghost!" and
fell to worshipping prayer.

The grey-haired Gurnemanz and two young boys of the Order are discovered
sleeping. At the clarion-call from the Castle, they start awake and
kneel at their morning devotions. The lake is near where the sick
King is carried daily for the bath. Forerunners of his cortege
pass, and are questioned by Gurnemanz concerning his condition. No,
the healing herb, obtained at such price of courage and cunning,
has not helped him. (For, though their drugs prove still and ever
useless, the devoted followers will not give up the search for
earthly relief.) This discouraged answer is hardly given, when another
appears who has been ranging afar in search of a remedy--Kundry,
arriving like the whirlwind, on a mare that staggers reaching the
goal. Spent with speed, the strange wild woman totters to Gurnemanz
and presses on him a crystal phial: Balsam! If this does not help,
Arabia holds nothing more from which health can be hoped! Felled
by fatigue, sh