While he had been speaking, the snow-white swan, drawing the empty boat, had glided quietly up the winding river. It stood at the shore. The people gazed at it mournfully. Even Lohengrin greeted it in sadness. Suddenly the dark-haired Ortrud, who had been watching, approached the shore. She leaned over the snow-white swan, and when she saw the golden circlet about its neck, she laughed fiendishly. "It is he!" she cried. "It is Godfrey! My magic changed him into a swan, and a swan he shall remain!" and she grinned exultingly at Elsa. Lohengrin, about to enter the boat, stopped at the sound of Ortrud's voice. He listened a moment. Then he fell upon his knees and prayed, while all the people waited breathlessly. His prayer was lifted up in silence and borne, who shall say where--to what High and Holy presence? For as he prayed a white dove descended and hovered over the boat. Seeing that his prayer was answered, Lohengrin rose to his feet enraptured. He took the chain from the neck of the swan. The swan sank into the water. And where it had been stood Godfrey, the rightful Duke of Brabant. Elsa fell into her brother's arms with a glad cry. Then together they watched Lohengrin enter his boat which, drawn by the dove, glided slowly down the winding river, and out of mortal sight forevermore. [Illustration] THE FLYING DUTCHMAN I A storm on the ocean is a fearful thing to see. It roars, it flashes, it races huge waves mountain-high one after the other, it dashes them furiously against the sharp rocks, it howls, it blows, and it tosses great ships about as though they were tiny toys. Once, long, long ago there was just such a storm as this off the Cape of Good Hope, that most southern point of Africa. For the Evil Spirit who ruled the seas in those days, and who had many servants to do his bidding, had ordered one of them, the Wind Storm, to sweep over the waters far and wide. Perhaps the Evil Spirit wanted to add to the treasures that he had gathered from all the ships he had wrecked--treasures that he kept far beneath the water. At any rate, the Wind Storm did as he was told. He lashed the mighty waves into anger so that they crashed against the jagged rocks of the Cape, and all the ships that were abroad scudded swiftly along before him in fear. "Go home," whistled the Wind Storm through the sails. "Go back to your safe harbors. There is no room for you on this sea. I need it all--all--all." And the ships scurried into their harbors--all but one. The captain of that ship was not afraid of the Wind Storm nor of the Evil Spirit, either, for that matter. His ship was strong, and so was his will. He was determined to go around the Cape. He stood at the prow while the ship rocked violently to and fro. The salt spray dashed over him, but still he defied the Wind Storm. "I will not go back," he cried, and he swore a mighty oath. "I'll sail on and round that Cape if I sail forever."