ried the blows of his strong adversary
skilfully. The combat lasted for some time, and neither of the
fighters seemed to give way. Suddenly a subdued cry was heard, and at
the same time the presumptuous vassal sank to the ground, pierced by
the sword of him whom God had sent, and expired. A tremendous shout of
joy burst from the gazing crowd, which rang from one end of the plain
to the other and was echoed by the glittering waves of the Rhine. The
people rejoiced in the victory, and thought that God himself had
decided the combat in favour of Elsa.

The Duchess felt greatly moved. In her overflowing gratitude she
sank down before her deliverer with tears in her eyes. But he bade her
rise, and bowing low before her asked her to become his wife. She
consented. What a heaven of bliss opened for the Duchess of Brabant!
All her former troubles were forgotten.

Her gratitude towards her rescuer was transformed into passionate
love, to which Lohengrin, the virtuous knight, responded with tender
adoration.

Yet though everything seemed now so serene in the life of the Duchess,
there was a dim cloud which threatened to darken the clear prospect of
her happiness. On their wedding-day Elsa had to promise her bridegroom
that she would never inquire about his name, his home, or his descent.

Trusting her deliverer's honour and chivalrous bearing, she took the
strange oath without a moment's hesitation.

Many years of bliss and happiness passed, and Elsa of Brabant had
strictly kept the promise she had made on her bridal morning. Their
happiness was still more enhanced by the birth of three hopeful boys.
They were their parents' joy, and promised to become in future shining
ornaments of knighthood.

It happened however, when the eyes of the Duchess were resting with
pride on her sons, that her mother's heart thought with grief of the
solemn oath she had sworn on her wedding-day.

With how much more pride would she have looked upon her sons if she
could have known them to be the offspring of a high and noble race.
She did not doubt however that her beloved husband's lineage was a
most noble one. Yet the thought that his sons might never bear their
father's name, nor be able to add new glories to it, was lying heavily
on her mind, and darkened the radiant image of her husband, that like
a deity filled her whole soul.

The fatal question she had for so long withheld burst one day forcibly
from her lips.

When she had pronoun