“I would fain have fought the barbarians with you, noble king,” he continued, “but destiny calls me hence. Be of good cheer—you will conquer the robbers, rule over the heathen, and win imperishable glory.” The hero spoke with the enthusiasm of an inspired seer, as he added a prophecy of the wonders time should unfold regarding the future of the empire. When he ceased, all present heard the same strange wild melody that had attended his coming, but this time sad and slow as a dirge. It came nigher, and then they spied also the crowned swan and the boat. “Farewell, beloved,” said Lohengrin, clasping his weeping wife in his arms. “I had grown to love you, and life in this world of yours, passing well; but now a higher will than mine tells me to go.” He tore himself away with tears in his eyes, and entering the boat, which the swan had brought close to the bank, was borne away from their sight. She did not long survive the parting from her husband, and when she died, she died in the firm conviction that she was about to join her husband and see the holy Grail. Whether she was right or wrong, none of those about her could ever agree. [Illustration] [Illustration: TRISTRAM TEACHES ISOLDE TO PLAY THE GUITAR.] IV. TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE. TRUSTY RUAL AND HIS FOSTER-SON. A furious battle was raging before the gates of the castle, for Rivalin, the lord of the place, was fighting against Morgan, his feudal superior, whose oppression had grown too great to be borne. Within the castle, Blancheflur, Rivalin’s wife, was praying fervently for her husband’s safety, as she clasped in her weak arms her little son that had been born while the din of battle filled the air. All day long it lasted. In the evening, Rual, the marshal, hurried back into the castle bleeding, and called to his wife to save what she could, and make ready for instant flight, for King Rivalin had fallen, and the enemy threatened to blockade the castle. Queen Blancheflur heard what he said, and with a piercing cry fell back dead. Rual, seeing that nothing could be done for her, hurried the other women in their preparations, and, heedless of his own untended wounds, made ready to fly with his master’s child to a place of safety. But while they hastened to obey the marshal, it was already too late—the castle was surrounded, and no way of escape remained. They carried the dead queen to another room, and the marshal’s wife took the baby for her own. The servants were all faithful, and when Morgan took the castle soon afterwards, he never guessed that Rivalin had left a living child. The victorious king, who honoured Rual for his fidelity to his late master, made him governor of the kingdom he had just subdued, and then went back to his own place.