"I will say no more now, but this very night I shall be within call. And if thou dost only speak the word, I'll enter and prick his arm with my sword and instantly he will tell all, and can never more leave thy side." Lohengrin saw Frederick had got the ear of Elsa, and in a terrible voice told him to go, and chided Elsa gently for listening to such a man. As he spoke she sank at his feet, full of self-reproach. Lohengrin lifted her and embraced her lovingly, while she swore eternal faith in him, and then all turned once more to the church. The King, the nobles, Lohengrin with Elsa--all were passing in at last; when Elsa, looking back just once, saw the arm of Ortrud raised in menace and with an expression of triumph upon her wicked face. Elsa turned terrified once more to Lohengrin, and they passed into the church. ACT III After the ceremony and the festivities that had followed the marriage, came the peace and quiet of night. The door of the bridal chamber opened, and pages went in bearing lights, while the ladies of the court followed, leading Elsa, and the King and nobles in turn followed them, leading Lohengrin. It was a most beautiful room, with a great open casement at the right, through which the night-breeze swept. The nobles and ladies sang in chorus the most beautiful of wedding songs: [Music: Faithful and true, we lead ye forth, Where love, triumphant, shall crown ye with joy! Star of renown, flow'r of the earth, Blest be ye both far from all life's annoy.] The King embraced Lohengrin; and the ladies, Elsa. Then the pages gave a signal to go, and all passing before the pair went out in the same order as they came in. _Scene II_ After all had gone Lohengrin sat upon the couch beneath the open casement and drew Elsa down beside him. He wished above all things to drive from her mind all thoughts of the suspicion which Ortrud had implanted. But even while he spoke most lovingly and reassuringly to her, her thoughts were upon the mystery of his name. When he spoke her own she looked at him reproachfully. "Ah! my name sounds so beautiful to me from thy lips--if only I might speak thine!" she complained. "If thou wouldst only tell me thy name, it should never pass my lips." Lohengrin was sad upon hearing this. He spoke of other things--of how beautiful the night was, and of how they were to pass a long and happy life together; but still her thoughts, poisoned by Ortrud, returned again and again to the forbidden subject. "Oh! do not doubt me! Let me share thy secret whatever it may be," she entreated. "I feel that I am not loved by thee, since I am not trusted with thy story--not even with thy name." At last, after begging her to be silent, after reminding her of her promise, after all the persuasions he could think of, he rose and spoke sternly: