Wilhelm, at first jubilant that he was allowed to take part in a sword contest rather than an execution, paused for a moment as he came to the courtyard, and looked about him in a dazed manner, once or twice drawing his hand across his eyes, as if to perfect his vision. Some seeing him thus stricken silent and thoughtful, surmised that the young man was like to prove more courageous in word than in action; others imagined that the sudden coming from the semi-gloom of the castle interior into the bright light dazzled him. The party climbed the flight of stone steps which led far upward to the platform edged by the parapet from which the spring was to be made. The young man walked up and down the promenade, unheeding those around him, seeming like one in a dream, groping for something he failed to find. The onlookers watched him curiously, wondering at his change of demeanour. Suddenly he dropped his sword on the stones at his feet, held up his hands and cried aloud: “I have jumped from here before--when I was a lad--a baby almost--I remember it all now--where am I--when was I here before--where is my wooden sword--and where is Conrad, who made it--Conrad, where are you?” The captain was the first to realise what had happened. He stepped hurriedly forward, scrutinising his late prisoner, the light of recognition, in his eyes. “It is the young master,” he shouted. “My Lord Count, this is no kinsman of the Outlaw, but your own son, a man grown.” The Count stood amazed, as incapable of motion as a statue of stone; the countess, gazing with dreamy eyes, seemed trying to adjust her inward vision of the lad of four with the outward reality of the man of twenty-one. In the silence rose the clear sweet voice of Elsa without the walls, her face upturned like a painting of the Madonna, her hands clasped in front of her. “Dear Virgin Mother in Heaven, I thank thee that my prayer was not unheard, and bear me witness that I have kept my oath--I have kept my oath, and may Thy intervention show a proud and sinful people the blackness of revenge.” Count Herbert, rousing himself from his stupor, appealed loudly to the girl. “Woman, is this indeed my son, and, if so, why did you not speak before we came to such extremity?” “I cannot answer. I have sworn an oath. If you would learn who stands beside you, send a messenger to the Outlaw, saying you have killed him, as indeed you purposed doing,” then stretching out her arms, she said, with faltering voice: “Wilhelm, farewell,” and turning, fled toward the forest. “Elsa, Elsa, come back!” the young man cried, foot on the parapet, but the girl paid no heed to his commanding summons, merely waving her hand without looking over her shoulder. “Elsa!”