Part 4

One evening as she sat in the great hall of the Castle with her servants about her, a trumpet sounded at the gate. The women stopped their spinning, and the men ceased their polishing of arms and armor. The Warder entered announcing that there was a pilgrim at the gate begging for shelter.

“Admit him at once,” said Williswind.

In a few moments the Warder returned, accompanied by the pilgrim.

“Be welcome to our cheer, stranger. Such as we have we give freely,” said Williswind.

“Thanks, fair lady, for your kindness,” replied the stranger, glancing about the room.

The pilgrim was clad in worn garments, yet did not seem like a beggar. At times cruelty and cunning appeared in his face. Secretly he looked about as if to examine every part of the castle. His strange manner caused Williswind great uneasiness. The thought came to her that he might possibly be a robber knight in disguise.

In the morning, however, the pilgrim departed peaceably, and the young princess felt calm once more. The days passed quietly by and Williswind began to look forward to her brother’s return. One morning the pilgrim suddenly returned, but not this time in pilgrims garments. He was clad in full armor, and came with a large number of followers.

“I come,” he said, “to demand the hand of the Princess Williswind in marriage, and if she denies me I will take her by force.”

“I beseech you,” replied Williswind, “depart and leave me in peace. I have love for none but my brother, and desire only to be left here with my servants to await quietly his return.”

But the evil knight only repeated his demand, saying that he would return in three days for an answer. If at the end of that time Williswind did not consent freely, he would take the Castle by force and carry her away.

What was to be done? Her brother was too far away to come to her aid. She decided, however, to send a message to him, asking him to come at once.

Knowing that it would be unsafe for the princess to remain in the Castle the old Warder persuaded Williswind to set out for a Convent, which was not many miles away.

The robber knight, however, had left spies all about the castle and the princess had not gone very far with her followers, when they were overtaken by the knight himself.

The servants with Williswind fought bravely, but they were soon overcome. The bold knight carried Williswind and her maid off to a lonely tower in the woods.

“Here I shall leave you,” he said; “but I will return in three days to receive your answer.”

Then he locked the heavy door, and left them alone. The two captives looked about for means of escape, but they found only thick walls and heavily barred doors and windows. All about them was nothing but wilderness, so they could expect aid from no passerby. Escape was hopeless.

They looked about the tower for food and water, but none was to be found. The unhappy girls sat and waited anxiously. They looked through the barred windows. The hours seemed days. Suddenly Williswind gave a cry of joy.

“Oh, look,” she said, “yonder is my pet raven.”

She whistled to the raven. It recognized her voice and came at once. She and Othmar had spent many happy hours together, teaching the raven to do various things. Among other things, it had learned to bring berries.

The bird at once seemed to understand everything, and went out into the woods. Soon it returned with a few berries. Back and forth it went during the whole day, bringing berries to the two hungry girls. The next day and the day after, it kept them supplied with this kind of food.

On the third day the robber knight reappeared. He felt sure that Williswind would by this time be ready to agree to accept him, but his hope was in vain. The food which the bird had brought had increased her courage.

“Not for all the wealth of India,” she said, “would I consent to your proposal.”

Angrily the knight rode away, declaring that he would return again in three days more. The time passed very slowly in the gloomy tower. In spite of the raven’s faithful visits, the girls became faint and weak from hunger.

On the sixth day Williswind was sitting at the window, watching eagerly for the bird’s return. Suddenly she saw the figure of a knight come from the thicket. As she looked at him, she saw that it was not the robber knight; his armor was entirely different. Hope came to her at once, and she called out loudly and waved her handkerchief through the bars.

The knight heard the call and turned in the direction of the tower. Williswind uttered a cry of rapture; it was her brother. In his haste to reach home as quickly as possible, he had taken this path through the forest.

Just at this moment the robber knight came riding up. Seeing Othmar he challenged him to fight. Down across the open space before the tower the two horses came, and met with a loud clash in the center. Othmar held his saddle, but the robber knight was stretched upon the ground.

Othmar was not a little surprised when he entered the old Castle to find that it was his beloved sister who had called to him from the tower. It was not long before Williswind was safe once more in the beautiful Castle of Stolzenfels.

Othmar was greatly pleased at the skill with which the raven had provided for his sister, so he adopted a new Coat-of-Arms, with the raven as his emblem, and set the little figure above the gate of the Castle, to tell to all the world the story of the faithful raven.

THE NIGHT OF THE STOLEN TREASURE

Little Hans and his mother were standing down by the Mummelsee. It was a big round sheet of water, surrounded by rocky slopes. On these grew dark pine trees, which cast their shadows far out into the water.

The water lay quietly sleeping in its dark bed. The stillness made little Hans thoughtful, and he crept close to his mother.

“Why is the water so still?” he whispered; “and the fish,--where are they?”

“Listen,” answered his mother, “and I will tell you a story. There are no longer any fish in the Mummelsee; they left it many, many years ago. The place is haunted by Mummel, a great water god, and by his daughters, the beautiful water sprites.

“Long years ago,” the mother went on, “a man committed a great crime in order that he might get a rich treasure. In his flight he came to the Mummelsee. He could not swim across with the bag of treasure! What should he do? He knew that he would be caught unless he did something at once.

“‘Ah! I will just drop it into the edge of the lake,’ he said to himself. ‘The water is dark and no one will be able to find the Treasure. I will hide myself in the thick bushes, and there I will be safe also.’

“He crawled into the bushes where they were thickest. But something was wrong; the bushes seemed like so many hands, that caught hold of him, and held him fast. He could not move. He struggled and struggled, but the more he fought against them, the more firmly they held on.

“He gave up the struggle, and lay quiet, looking out upon the dark water. He saw something that was still more strange. What could it be? It looked like the form of a giant rising from the water. The face was sterner than any he had ever seen.”

“What was it, mother?” asked little Hans; “was it a ghost?”

“It was Mummel, the great angry god, who haunts the lake. He had never allowed his peace to be disturbed in the slightest way. No one could throw even a pebble into the lake without being punished by him.

“Now he rose out of the water; and seized the frightened man. The bushes let go their hold on him as if by magic; and, without saying a word the stern god began to sink down, down into the cold, black water.”

“Oh,” cried Hans, “was the man drowned?”

“No,” answered his mother, “he was not drowned. The great god drew him down, down to the bottom of the lake, where he has a wonderful palace. In it there are all kinds of strange creatures.”

“But what does the man do down there? Is he still alive?”

“Yes; Mummel will not let him die; but keeps him, and makes him serve in the kitchen year after year.”

“And does he not have any rest or any holidays?”

“He does not need rest down there, because he is no longer mortal like us. But once a year he ceases, for a single night, to serve in the kitchen. He becomes a mortal again and comes back to earth.

“Every year on the day on which he committed his crime, he puts on his earthly clothes and comes up. And when he reaches the world, he suddenly finds himself at the place where he stole the treasure.

“He hears some one coming, and starts to flee with the treasure on his back. Each time, he comes to the same spot on Mummelsee, and throws the sack into the lake. Just as before, too, he tries to hide in the bushes and is caught and held by them.

“Every year Mummel, angry as before, comes up and drags the man out of the bushes, and draws him down to his palace again.

“Many people have heard the strange noises in the bushes along the shore of the lake. Some of them imagine, too, that they have seen a strange form rising from the waters. They declare that on this night the lake is greatly disturbed. The wind is loud, and the bushes bend their heads down to the very water.

“On the night when these strange things happen, people are careful to avoid the place. Although they like to go there at other times, they would not wish to be found there on the Night of the Stolen Treasure.”

THE WATER SPRITES

Mummel, the great angry water god, has many beautiful daughters. These he guards jealously, and will allow no one to see them in their maiden forms except by the dim moonlight.

These beautiful water nymphs are not at all like their stern father. They are pure, and gentle and graceful and kind. They never do harm to anyone, and are not displeased if people come to visit the lake. Indeed they like to have people come to see them dance upon the water at night.

These lovely creatures would gladly help people if their father did not guard them so jealously; for they are kind-hearted and generous.

As it is, all they can do for mortals is to entertain them with their fairy dances on the silvery waters of Mummelsee. On every moonlight night they can be seen flitting about on the surface of that.

Their fairy forms are so charming that people who see them cannot help forgetting their daily cares. People come to the lake tired and careworn in the evening, and go away happy and cheerful.

All night long, till the first streaks of dawn, the fairy nymphs can be seen, flitting charmingly from wave to wave. Their gowns are light and flowing like gossamers. Their beautiful golden hair, too, floats lightly on the gentle breeze.

Once or twice, it is said, daring youths have been drawn by their beauty, and have ventured into the lake to meet them. Every attempt, however, has been disastrous. Mummel has caught the intruder and taken him down to his abode below the lake. There the unhappy youth has had to act as a servant.

Whenever anyone attempts to come too close to his daughters, too, Mummel takes away their human shapes at once. He transforms them into water lilies, and makes them stand with bowed heads along the farther shore of the lake.

Every morning, too, as soon as the first light of day begins to appear, the beautiful figures leave their fairy dance upon the lake. Mummel transforms them into their lily forms and makes them stand in the water along the shore.

So the beautiful water lilies which are to be seen in Mummelsee are the lovely water sprites, daughters of Mummel. No one is allowed to pick one even to this day.

THE GIANT MAIDEN

Many years ago there lived a mighty race of giants. They were as tall as the hills, and dwelt in great castles as large as mountains. To them the world was a very small place indeed.

These giants loved the world, however, and all the many beautiful things in it. The sunshine, the song of birds, the green fields, the woods, the rivers, and the blue sky were all charming to them.

So it was that they used to walk a great deal. They used to go everywhere and see everything that was good to see. When they walked, however, they stepped from hilltop to hilltop. They never went down into the valleys.

The king of the giants was a great and a good man. He was kind to his people, and kind to his children, and they all loved and honored him. One of his children was a beautiful girl. She would soon be a woman, but she still loved playthings.

Like the rest of the giants, Hilda, the king’s daughter, liked to go walking out into the world. She often found most interesting playthings. Sometimes she would bring home a bear, or a baby elephant.

One day Hilda went out for a walk. She had had to stay in the castle for several days because of the rain. This was a beautiful day, however, and she walked a long way, even for a giant’s daughter.

The maiden stepped over valley after valley, from hilltop to hilltop, till she was far away from home. She had never gone so far before. The country seemed quite different, and it was pleasant, too.

At last she stopped and looked about her to enjoy the scene. Before her was a wide valley, and in it she saw many curious things. One of them was a man plowing with horses. She had never seen anything like that before.

“Oh!” she cried, “what cute playthings they will make! They will be real live playthings, too. How nice the little creature is that walks behind! And the thing he is holding; that will make a fine toy. And the other animals will be such lovely pets. I must have them all.”

Hilda reached down into the valley and picked up the man, the plow, and the horses, and tucked them away in her apron. Then she went home to tell her father.

“See what lovely playthings I have found!” she called to him, as she ran into the great castle.

“My darling child,” said the good King, “these are not playthings. You must take them back and leave them where you found them. You must never touch them again. This is a man, and he has a wife and children at home. They will be very sad if he does not come back to them.

“By and by,” he went on, “the whole world will be owned by little creatures like this man, and we shall be no more.”

The King’s daughter was very sad when she heard these things. She did not want to give up such delightful playthings. But she had a kind heart, and she loved her father. She knew, too, that he understood things much better than she did. So she put the man, the plow, and the horses into her apron again, and took them back to the place where she had found them.

The man was very happy when she set him down in the field again. His good wife, and his children were there, too; and they rejoiced to see him again. They feared something had happened to him.

The maiden looked on for a time, wondering about it all. It made her glad to see how happy the man and his wife and children were. She was no longer, sorry that she had given up her playthings, and she went home with a light heart.

THE SWAN KNIGHT

Elsa was a very beautiful girl. She lived with her father, the Duke of Brabant. Her father loved her very much, so they lived happily in their lovely home. But one day Elsa’s father died, leaving her all of his lands and castles. Then she had no one to care for her, and she was very unhappy indeed.

The Duke of Brabant had had a trusted friend, Frederick of Telramund. He undertook the care of Elsa; but he did not guard the lonely maiden as her father would have wished. Indeed, this man tried to force her to marry him, that he might obtain all of her wealth.

In vain the lovely Elsa declared she did not love him. In vain she appealed to his chivalry. He cared nothing for her tears, but cruelly cast her into a damp prison close by the rushing river. There she must suffer in loneliness until she would obey the will of Telramund.

At last Elsa sent a long message to Henry I. begging him for aid. He decided that the matter should be settled in the lists. Elsa should choose a champion to fight with Frederick of Telramund.

Poor Elsa lost all hope when she heard this decision. She knew full well that no knight in the neighborhood would dare accept a challenge from Telramund; for Telramund had fought many times and had never been defeated. Day after day the herald sought someone to battle for Elsa’s rights. It was as she had feared, no one answered the call.

Forsaken by all, the orphan girl turned to the helper of the helpless. Night and day she knelt in her narrow cell and prayed. In her great grief she struck her breast with the rosary clasped in her little hands.

The little bell attached to the rosary, gave forth a low tinkling sound. These silvery tones were very soft and faint. They could scarcely be heard above the roar of the waters rushing past the tower. But they floated out through the narrow window into the open air.

The winds of heaven caught up the sounds and whirled them rapidly away. Farther and farther they traveled, louder and louder they became. At last it seemed as if all the bells on earth had united to ring forth one grand deafening peal.

These loud and pleading tones reached even into the far distant temple on Montsalvat. Here King Parsifal and his train of dauntless knights kept constant watch over the Holy Grail. The King was greatly alarmed by the tones. He knew that some poor creature needed aid, and so hastened into his inner temple.

Within this holy place there stood a beautiful vase, giving forth its rosy light. On its bright edge the King read the message from heaven. “Send Lohengrin to defend his future bride, but let her trust him and never seek to know his origin.” These were the strange words which met the aged King’s eyes.

The King immediately sent for his son. Lohengrin was a brave young knight. He had been trained to receive the messages of the Holy Grail with the most perfect faith. When he heard the words from his father, he put on his armor, spoke his farewells, and at once prepared to mount his waiting steed.

Suddenly sweet music fell upon his ear. He had never heard anything like it on land or sea. Soft, low, and sweet, it rose and fell and rose again. Then, in the distance, Lohengrin saw a stately swan come floating toward him. It drew behind it a little skiff. Nearer and nearer came the stately swan, clearer and sweeter rose the mystic strain. Both came to a pause close by the shore where the wondering knight stood.

Lohengrin sprang at once into the skiff. The swan took up its song again, and soon bore him out of sight.

The day for the tournament had dawned. The last preparations had been made. Many knights had gathered to view the scene. Yet not one dared to offer himself as champion for the lovely maiden.

Elsa clung to her prison bars. Tearfully she repeated for the last time her prayers.

“Send Thou the deliverer, O Lord!” she cried.

All at once her sobs ceased. The far away sounds of music fell comfortingly upon her ear. She looked out eagerly. There she beheld a spotless swan floating gently down the stream, skillfully guiding a little boat. In the boat a knight in full armor lay fast asleep on a glittering shield.

Just as the swan passed beneath the window where Elsa stood, the knight awoke. His first glance rested upon her tear-stained face.

“Weep no more, fair maiden!” he cried, springing to his feet. “Fear naught! I have come to defend you!”

The skiff passed on down the river. The prison door opened, and Frederick of Telramund appeared to lead Elsa to the lists. A smile of triumph curled his cruel lips as he heard the herald give the last call for Elsa’s champion. The sound of the trumpets died away and Frederick had turned to address Elsa. Suddenly a ringing voice came from the end of the lists.

“Here am I, the Swan Knight, ready to fight for the rights of the Princess. I will win her cause or die.”

A cry of admiration arose from the crowd, as they turned toward the Rhine. There they saw a handsome knight, standing erect in a tiny skiff drawn by a swan. Spellbound they watched him. He sprang lightly ashore and sent the swan away. It floated down the river and out of sight, giving forth its own beautiful, dreamy song.

For a moment Lohengrin knelt at Elsa’s feet, making a solemn vow to save her. Then he mounted his waiting steed, drew down his visor, and took his place in the lists.

The struggle began. Breathlessly the knights and ladies watched it. Nothing could be heard but the clank of steel, the heavy breathing of the two knights, and the tramp of their horses feet. The dust almost hid them from view.

Suddenly a terrible blow was heard. The great frame of Frederick of Telramund was seen to sway for a moment in the saddle, then to fall and roll in the dust. In a moment Lohengrin had dismounted. He stood with one foot on Telramund’s breast, ordering him to surrender.

Triumphant cries and joyful trumpets told of the victory. Cheer after cheer rang through the summer air, as Lohengrin knelt before Elsa once more. The cries of the knights and ladies were loud and long. They almost drowned Elsa’s sweet voice as she bade her champion rise and name his own reward.

Though the low spoken tones had been unheeded by the people, not one word had been lost by Lohengrin.

“Tempt me not, oh noble lady!” he replied. “Here at your feet where I would linger forever, I cannot but confess how much I love you, and how I hope some day to claim your hand.”

The pretty flush on Elsa’s soft cheeks deepened at these words. The long lashes drooped over the beautiful eyes. Timidly she held out her hand.

“You saved me, sir knight,” she softly whispered. “I am yours!”

Not a word of this conversation had been heard by the people, for their shouts had been redoubled as the knight bent low over Elsa’s hand and pressed it to his lips.

Before night, however, Elsa’s promise to become the knight’s bride had gone abroad. Preparations for the marriage were begun at once.

Elsa had trembled with fear at the thought of a union with Frederick of Telramund, yet she did not hesitate in the least to give herself to the strange knight who had saved her. Nor did she doubt him when he told her that she must never seek to know either his name or his origin.

These must remain a secret from her and from all the people or they would have to part forever.

Many knights and ladies attended the marriage ceremony. The young Lohengrin and his lovely bride lived peacefully and happily for many years. Their love for each other grew deeper and better as one by one three beautiful children came to add to their happiness.

But Elsa, though perfectly content with her husband’s unchanging love, could not but notice that many of her people secretly doubted him. They tried many times, and in many different ways to discover his name and origin.

Little by little, she, too, began to wonder. The more she thought of it, the more she longed to know her husband’s secret. Finally, as she was seated by him one day, she suddenly turned to him and asked the forbidden question.

“Elsa! Elsa! Is your faith dead?” cried the Swan Knight in broken voice. “Can you no longer trust me? I love you so, and now I must leave you. Our happiness is at an end! But, before I go, your question shall be answered. Come with me!”

His pale face and despairing glance brought Elsa to her senses. With a loving cry she flung herself on his breast, begging him to forgive and forget her question. He sadly shook his head.

“It is too late, Elsa,” he replied, “too late! You have doubted me; and I must leave you; but before I go you shall know all.”

The knights had gathered in the great banqueting hall near the Rhine. They started up in surprise when their master suddenly came in their midst. He led the pale and weeping Elsa gently by the hand.