But Odile was so deeply moved by this glimpse of the glory of her race and the promise of fraternal love that she could not resist the desire to contemplate with her earthly eyes the brother whose image had so enchanted her, to enfold him, if even for a single time, in her arms. By a faithful servitor she despatched a letter to him, saying in it: “I am Odile, thine unknown sister. If thou lovest me as I thee, obtain from my father that I enter into my daughterly estate. I salute thee tenderly. At thought of thee my heart blossoms like a lily in the desert.” This letter acted as a charm upon Adalbert, awaking in his youthful heart all generous and romantic sentiments. He cried, “Who is this sister whose words are sweeter than those of a betrothed?” A tender desire seized him to make her his companion and coheir and to give her back her rank and family estate. He answered, “Trust but in me. I will arrange all things for the best.” Shortly after, while his father was absent at the chase, he sent to Baume-les-Dames a splendid chariot drawn by six richly caparisoned horses. With it went a numerous retinue, that Odile might return to her father’s house in a way befitting her estate. And now begins the tragedy. Atalric is in the banquet-hall of his castle of Obernay, where his birthday is being celebrated with great pomp and circumstance. It is the day, too, that he has chosen to present his son and heir to his vassals. About the tables, groaning under the weight of gold and silver dishes, his many courtiers are sitting, drinking from great horns of aurochs or clanking their burnished hanaps. Atalric, happening to go to the window, espies in the plain a chariot approaching, drawn by six horses; banners are flying and palms waving. Above it float the ducal colors. He cries out in surprise, “Who is it that approaches?” Adalbert answers with all the valiance of his young and trusting heart, “It is thy daughter Odile come to beg thy mercy.” “Who is the dolt that counseled her return?” “It is I who called her, and on this day of thy feast I beg thy grace for her.” “How has she, who desires my death, been able to bewitch you?” cries Atalric, pale and stiff with anger. Adalbert protests, invoking his father’s pity, the honor of the family, and his own brotherly love, but Atalric, beside himself, commands the youth to cast his sister from the threshold. Adalbert refuses. “If it must be done, do it thyself,” he answers, proudly. Upon this the duke menaces his son with disinheritance if he does not immediately obey. But Adalbert, drawing his sword, lays it at his father’s feet, telling him that rather than fail in fraternal love he will give up his heritage. This fills his father with so blind a fury that he gives his son a great blow upon the temple with the hilt of his sword.