to suffer through
me!"--"Receive my thanks for so much goodness!" exclaims feelingly the
accomplished actress. "He who to-morrow will be called my husband,"
continues Elsa, in her young gladness to heap benefits, "I will
make appeal to his gentle nature, and obtain grace for Friedrich
likewise."--"You bind me to you forever with bonds of gratitude!"
With light innocent hand Elsa places the crowning one on top of
her magnanimous courtesies. "At early morning let me see you ready
prepared. Adorned in magnificent attire, you shall walk with me
to the minster. There I am to await my hero, to become his wife
before God. His wife!..." The sweet pride with which she says the
word, the soft ecstasy that falls upon her at the thought, stir in
Ortrud such hatred that she cannot forbear, even though the time
can hardly be ripe, taking the first step at once which is to result
in the quick ruin of the poor child's dreams. "How shall I reward
you for so much kindness, powerless and destitute as I am? Though by
your grace I should dwell beside you, I should remain no better
than a beggar. One power, however, there is left me; no arbitrary
decree could rob me of that. By means of it, peradventure, I shall be
able to protect your life and preserve it from regret."--"What do
you mean?" asks Elsa lightly. "What I mean is--that I warn you not
too blindly to trust in your good fortune; let me for the future
have care for you, lest disaster entangle you unaware." Elsa shrinks
back a little, murmuring, "Disaster?" Ortrud speaks with impressive
mystery close to her ear: "Could you but comprehend what marvellous
manner of being is the man--of whom I say but this: May he never
forsake you through the very same magic by which he came to you!"
Elsa starts away from Ortrud, in horror at such impiety,--disbelief
in the highest. But in a moment her displeasure gives way to sadness
and pity for the darkness in which this other woman lives. "Poor
sister!" she speaks, most gently, "you can hardly conceive how
unsuspecting is my heart! You have never known, belike, the happiness
that belongs to perfect faith. Come in with me! Let me teach you
the sweetness of an untroubled trust. Let me convert you to the
faith that there exists a happiness without leaven of regret!" This
warm young generous sweetness which makes Elsa open to any appeal,
blind to grossest fraud, merely exasperates Ortrud's ill-will. She
reads in it plain pride of superiority. As she cou