Opposite stood the cathedral wherein, on the morrow, Elsa would become the Swan Knight's bride. Though the delicate spires of the cathedral pointed to a starry sky, dark shadows lurked about the portico. And in the gloom of these shadows, two figures sat, two abject, miserable figures,--Frederick of Telramund and Ortrud his wife. Despoiled of their rich garments and shunned by all, they knew not which way to turn. Since the Stranger Knight was now Guardian of Brabant, banishment was their fate, poverty their portion. After the manner of evildoers, each charged the other with their misfortune. False Frederick, who had been willing enough to listen to the promptings of his witch-wife, now upraided her for having used sorcery to accomplish her wicked ends. It was she who had urged him to falsehood, he said; she who had induced him to turn traitor; she who had blackened his ancient name and besmirched his honor. Stung to fury by the recital of his woes, he called her evil names. He even wished for his sword in order to strike her dead. But Ortrud was not a sorceress for nothing. She knew how to cool his wrath. She taunted him, in turn, for showing cowardice in the fight. She called him weak of heart and feeble of purpose. She spoke thus: "Who is this Swan Knight who has vanquished the once powerful Frederick? From whence has he come? And what is his power? Only witchcraft has brought him, witchcraft and magic. And magic will take him away. If but one small point of his body can be injured, he will be helpless and at our mercy." Frederick took heart when he heard these words. Perhaps all was not over yet. Perhaps Ortrud's black magic and his strength could be used to some purpose before the marriage day dawned. If doubt could be instilled into the mind of Elsa, if she could be made to forget her promise, the spell would be broken. Or, if the Swan Knight could be weakened, they would regain their lost power over Brabant. So they plotted and planned, heads close together, as the night wore away. Toward morning a light glimmered in the apartments of the lovely Elsa. Soon she appeared on the balcony singing a little song. Ortrud crept near and called to her. She called in a piteous tone, her voice full of misery. She wept loudly and begged meekly for forgiveness. She pretended a repentance for all her former misdeeds that she was far from feeling.