ntly back in her mind
which she had smothered and then forgotten, the idea suggested by
Ortrud, implied by Friedrich, that mysteriously as he came the
unknown Knight may presently be going away from her. The hour that
should have been so sweet and quiet in the "fragrant chamber adorned
for love" of the wedding-song, is turned to strain and dreadfulness.
"God help me!" wails her passionate alarm, "What must I hear? What
testimony from your own lips! In your wish to beguile me, you have
announced my lamentable doom! The condition you forsook, your highest
happiness lay bound in that. You came to me from splendour and joy,
and are longing to go back. How could I, poor wretch, believe that
my faithful devotion would suffice you? The day will come which
will rob me of you, your love being turned to rue!"--"Forbear,
forbear thus to torture yourself!"--"Nay, it is you, why do you
torture me? Must I count the days during which I still may keep
you? In haunting fear of your departure, my cheek will fade; then
you will hasten away from me, I shall be left forlorn."--"Never"
he endeavours to quiet her, "never will your winning charm lessen,
if you but keep suspicion from your heart."--"How should I tie
you to me?" she pursues undeterred her fatal train of thought;
"How might I hope for such power? A creature of weird arts are
you, you came here by a miracle of magic. How then should it fare
but ill with me? What security for you can I hold?" She shrinks
together in sudden terror and listens. "Did you hear nothing? Did
you not distinguish footsteps?"--"Elsa!"--"No, it is not that!...
But there..." she stares vacantly ahead, pointing,--her face how
changed from the sweet, glowing face of so short a time ago!--and
describes what her over-excited fancy paints on the empty air before
her: "Look there! The swan! The swan! There he comes, over the watery
flood.... You call him, he draws the boat to shore...."--"Stop,
Elsa! Master these mad imaginings!" the poor lover strives with
her, in despair.--"Nay, nothing can give me rest," she declares,
wholly unmanageable, wholly unreasonable, "nothing can turn me
from these imaginings, but, though I should pay for it with my
life, the knowledge who you are!"--"Elsa, what are you daring to
do?"--"Uncannily beautiful man, hear what I must demand of you: Tell
me your name!"--"Forbear!"--"Whence are you come?"--"Alas!"--"What
manner of man are you?"--"Woe, what have you done?" Elsa utters a
shriek,