ced the awful words, the proud hero grew pale, and
freeing himself softly from her tender embrace, he cried out in bitter
grief: "Woe to thee, my beloved wife and woe also to me! Now that thou
hast uttered the question thou didst sware solemnly never to ask, our
happiness is gone for ever. I must part from thee, never to see thee
again."

A cry of anguish rose from her lips, but she was unable to keep him
back. Waving his hand to her in a mute farewell her noble husband left
the castle. He went to the Rhine and blew his silver horn.

Its sound was echoed from the shore like a long sob. The white swan
with the boat soon appeared gliding gently over the river.

Lohengrin stepped into the boat and soon vanished out of sight and was
seen no more.

His unhappy wife was inconsolable. Her grief was so intense that a
short time after her health gave way, and she sank into a premature
grave.

Her sons became the ancestors of a noble and distinguished race in
the Rhenish country. Their badge is a swan.

The traveller who visits Cleve will still find a tombstone in its
church with a knight carved on it, and a swan sitting at his feet.

ZUYDERSEA

Stavoren

[Illustration: Stavoren--Nach einem Stich von Holbein]

A strange story is still told about the city of Stavoren on the
Zuydersea. It was a wondrous town, but like Vineta on the Baltic Sea
it vanished from the earth.

The merchants of Stavoren were the rulers of the Ocean, and the
treasures of all known countries were lying in their port. The houses
were lovely palaces, furnished in their interior like the marvellous
abodes of the Sultan Haroun Al Rachid, in the "Arabian Nights."

Of all the wealthy people of the town, there was nobody so much
blessed with riches as Richberta, a proud and beautiful lady. Smiling
fortune had lavishly poured its gifts upon her, and threw fresh
treasures daily at her feet. She seemed to own everything beautiful
that this life can bestow, but one thing she did not possess, and that
was the soft fire of woman's kindness which lightens and warms the
soul, and throws on all its surroundings a mild reflecting gleam.
Richberta was cold and indifferent to either the pleasures or sorrows
of her fellow-men. When night casts her shades upon the earth, all the
sweet bright birds and butterflies hide and make room for a host of
ghastly animals like owls and bats. So in Richberta's soul all her
soft qualities had gone to sleep for want o