e salutation approach thee, made worthy to become thy
servant,--only to implore thine intercession rich in grace for
his sin, only to implore thine intercession for his sin!" She is
very woman to her last breath, the saint. She has failed on earth
to gain the coveted sign of pardon for him,--his not returning
with the others can only mean that he is not among the pardoned;
it means perhaps even that he did not accomplish the pilgrimage at
all.... She renounces him before Heaven, as if by that sacrifice
to propitiate the powers above, and desires to be given entrance
through death to that higher court where she still may intercede
for him,--perhaps, when she is an angel, with better effect. She
rises from prayer with the appearance of one upon whom already
the hand of death is laid. Wolfram, who notes her feeble step and
bloodless cheek, whose faithful heart understands all, solicitous
for her, asks if be may not escort her home. Without speaking, by
gentle gesture and shake of the head she declines, and he watches
her solitary figure slowly ascending the path toward the castle,
until it has disappeared from sight.

A mortal sadness is upon him, but a sadness mild as his nature. This
poet can at the darkest pass still turn his sorrows into song. With
song he now tries to administer to his oppressed heart consolation.
He feels softly along the strings of his harp. His thoughts are
full of Elizabeth, his soul apprehends what journey her soul is
preparing for. The terror of it, as well as the hope illumining the
dark way, he sees symbolised in the surrounding darkening scene,
over which now breaks the light of the evening star. "Like the
premonition of death twilight envelops the land, enfolds the valley
in a dusky garment. The soul, yearning for yonder heights, shrinks
from the journey through night and terrors. Then do you appear, O
loveliest among the stars! You shed your light afar. Your beloved
beams cleave the nocturnal twilight, and benignly you show us the
way out of the valley.... Oh, you, my sweetly-beaming evening star,
whom I have ever greeted so gladly,--do you greet, when she rises
past you, on her way from the vale of earth to become a blessed
angel beyond the stars, do you greet her from the heart that has
never failed in its truth to her!" A long time he continues sitting
in the twilight valley, gazing at the setting star, making his harp
express the emotions he has not the heart any more to formulate
wit