So saying he opened his visor and showed Percival a dark, handsome face. The brothers embraced with great affection, and Percival said: “The sword that Amfortas the sufferer gave me would not drink a brother’s blood; this is the first sign that God has heard my prayers. And—but was I blind?—surely I know this place! There is the lake, the rocks are here—yes, there is the road to the holy mountain. Come, brother, follow me up the steep path to the heights above, where Divine mercy awaits us.” Both heroes set out on their toilsome road with a stout heart and a willing mind; but the way was so full of difficulties that the sun was about to set before they reached the castle. On their arrival they were received like expected guests, and their horses—which they had been obliged to lead most of the way—were taken to the stable. Percival and Feirefiss were conducted straight to the hall, which was brilliantly lighted with wax candles. King Amfortas and his knights were in their usual places. The squire then came in with the bleeding lance, and was followed as before by the maidens bearing the cushion, stand, etc., and lastly, by the fair virgin, Queen Repanse carrying the holy Grail. “Merciful Father, and our sweet Lord and Saviour,” whispered Sir Percival, “teach me what I must do to bring redemption.” And it seemed to him that an angel spoke in his ear the one word, “Ask!” His understanding was now enlightened. He knew what to do. Going up to Amfortas he said: “What ails you, great king? and why are the halls that contain the holy Grail filled with mourning and woe?” The candles went out, but the Sangreal spread a brighter radiance than before throughout the room, and on the side of the sacred vessel appeared in letters of flame, “Amfortas is cured; Percival shall be king.” At the same moment soft and heavenly music filled the air, and invisible angels sang “Glory to God on high, and on earth peace, goodwill to men.” The hero stood silent, his heart overflowing with joy and thankfulness. An old man now approached him with a firm step and dignified mien. He bore a crown in his hands, and this he set on the head of the chosen king, saying: “Hail, Percival, all hail! Long have we waited for your coming. I am your great-grandfather Titurel, and have been called to make over to you the insignia of the highest honour. Now I may depart in peace. The days of my earthly pilgrimage will soon be over, and I shall rest in the Lord.” Amfortas, who was now well, and free from pain, rose from his seat, and greeting Percival with solemn joy, placed the royal mantle on his shoulders, calling on him to uphold the right, and to punish all injustice and wrong. The assembled knights joined in proclaiming the new king, and in swearing to be true to him. And the angelic choir sang in jubilant tones: