hing to
do then would be to prevail upon Elsa not to withhold from asking
it!"--"Ha! How quickly and well you apprehend me!"--"But how should
we succeed in that?"--"Listen! It is necessary first of all not
to forsake the spot. Wherefore, sharpen your wit! To arouse
well-justified suspicion in her, step forward, accuse him of sorcery,
whereby he perverted the ordeal!"--"Ha! By sorcery it was, and
treachery!"--"If you fail, there is still left the expedient of
violence."--"Violence?"--"Not for nought am I learned in the most
hidden arts. Every being deriving his strength from magic, if but
the smallest shred of flesh be torn from his body, must instantly
appear in his original weakness."--"Oh, if it might be that you
spoke true!" wistfully groans Telramund. "If in the encounter you
had struck off one of his fingers," Ortrud continues, "nay, but
one joint of a finger, that hero would have been in your power!"
Rage and excitement possess Telramund at the retrospect of the
combat in which he had been beaten, not, as he had supposed, by God,
but by the tricks of a sorcerer, and at the prospect of avenging his
disgrace, proving his uprightness, recovering his honour. But--he
is checked by a sudden return of suspicion of this dark companion and
adviser. "Oh, woman, whom I see standing before me in the night,"
he addresses the dim figure, "if you are again deceiving me, woe to
you, I tell you, woe!" She quiets him with the promise of teaching
him the sweet joys of vengeance. A foretaste of these they have,
sitting on the minster-steps, gloating upon the walls which enclose
the unconscious foes. "Oh, you, sunk in sweet slumber, know that
mischief is awake and lying in wait for you!"

A door opens in the upper story of the Kemenate. A white figure
steps out on to the balcony and leans against the parapet, head
upon hand. The pair in the shade watch with suspended breath,
recognising Elsa. She is too happy, obviously, to sleep; her heart
is too heavily oppressed with gratitude for all that this wonderful
day has brought. The well-born gentle soul that she is must be
offering thanks to everything that has contributed to this hour;
and so, girlishly, she speaks to the wind: "You breezes, whom I
used so often to burden with my sadness and complaints, I must
tell you in very gratitude what happy turn my fortunes have taken!
By your means he came travelling to me, you smiled upon his voyage,
on his way over the wild waves you kept him