n the arts of war. At length he laid his enemy in the dust
with a well-aimed sword-stroke, and the crowd broke into cheers. The
combat was over, and Elsa was free!

Heeding not the acclamations of the people, Lohengrin strode toward
Elsa and again knelt at her feet. The blushing maiden bade him name his
reward, whereupon the knight begged her hand in marriage, confessing,
however, that he might only remain with her so long as she did not
question him with regard to his identity. It seemed a small condition
to Elsa, who willingly promised to restrain any curiosity she might feel
concerning his name and place of abode. The cheers of the populace were
redoubled when they learned that Elsa was to bestow her hand on the Swan
Knight.

In a few weeks the couple were married, and henceforth for a good many
years they lived together very happily. Three sons were born to them,
who grew in time to be handsome and chivalrous lads, of noble bearing
and knightly disposition. Then it was that Elsa, who had hitherto
faithfully kept her promise to her husband, began to fancy that she and
her sons had a grievance in that the latter were not permitted to bear
their father's name.

For a time she brooded in silence over her grievance, but at length it
was fanned into open rebellion by a breath of outside suspicion. Some of
the people looked askance at the knight whose name no one knew. So Elsa
openly reproached her husband with his secrecy, and begged that for the
benefit of their sons he would reveal his name and station. Even the
children of humble parents, the children of the peasants, of their own
retainers, had a right to their father's name, and why not her sons
also?

Lohengrin paled at her foolish words, for to him they were the sign that
he must leave his wife and family and betake himself once more to the
temple of the Holy Grail.

"Oh, Elsa," he said sorrowfully, "thou knowest not what thou hast done.
Thy promise is broken, and to-day I must leave thee for ever." And with
that he blew a blast on his silver horn.

Elsa had already repented her rash words, and right earnestly she
besought him to remain by her side. But, alas! her tears and pleadings
were in vain, for, even as her entreaties were uttered, she heard
the exquisite strains of music which had first heralded her lover's
approach, while from the window of the castle she espied the swan-boat
rapidly drawing toward the shore.

With grave tenderness Lohengrin bade