"Hail!" The purpose of the gathering was to go forth against the foe that threatened the Germans, the Hungarian hordes. When all were beginning to wonder where the strange and brave knight was who had them summoned for the hour of dawn, and who was expected to lead them to victory, they saw the body of Frederick brought in by the four false Brabantians. All stood aside in horror. They could not think whose corpse it was. "They who bear it are Telramund's vassals," some cried, and at the same moment Elsa appeared, coming slowly and surrounded by her ladies. The King met her and conducted her to a seat opposite the royal oak. "Art thou mourning because thou art sorry to lose thy Lord so soon, sweet Lady?" the kind King questioned. She tried to answer him, but her sense of guilt was so great that she could not. The fearful things that were about to happen and that had happened had been caused by her woman's curiosity, and now that it was too late, she was filled with remorse. Some one cried: "Make way! make way! the Guardian of Brabant is coming." All looked and saw the shining knight, Lohengrin. They hailed him joyfully. "I come not to lead ye to glory," he answered sadly, and uncovered the corpse of Frederick of Telramund. All shrank back. "Neither shall ye condemn me. I killed him, but he came to seek my life. Your judgment, O King!" he asked of Henry. The King stretched his hand across the body of Telramund to clasp Lohengrin's. "The saints would not shield him: he deserved thy thrust," Henry answered. "Once more!--The Lady Elsa has betrayed her promise. I am undone. Ye all heard her give her word that she would never ask my name nor country; but her impatient heart hath broken that pledge, and her injurious doubts now compel me to tell ye all." Everybody groaned and cried out sorrowfully. They had entire faith in the brave knight, and loved the Lady Elsa. All regretted that her curiosity had ruined a fair future, deprived them of their defender, and made her own life forever miserable. "Now, mark well what I say," the knight cried, and while he spoke, his face became illuminated with a kind of splendid goodness and faith in his own integrity. In distant land, by ways remote and hidden, There stands a burg that men call Monsalvat; It holds a shrine to the profane forbidden, More precious, there is naught on earth than that. And throned in light, it holds a cup immortal, That whoso sees, from earthly sin is cleansed; 'Twas borne by angels through the heavenly portal, Its coming hath a holy reign commenced.