At these words Tannhaeuser sprang to his feet. The echo of the pilgrim's voice still lingered in the air. He listened a moment while a ray of hope illumined his anguish-stricken face. Then with a cry "To Rome! To Rome!" he hastened from the room. [Illustration: TANNHAEUSER AT THE BIER OF ELIZABETH (After a painting by Von Kaulbach)] III The road to Rome was rough and thorny, beset with hardship, fraught with suffering. But Tannhaeuser, full of new-found hope, wholly repentant, longing for pardon, pushed eagerly onward. No pilgrim was of humbler mien, nor was any of more contrite spirit. The thought of Elizabeth's devotion and her prayers dispelled all his former pride of sin, and made the hardships of the journey seem all too light for his remorseful soul. When other pilgrims sought smooth pathways through meadow and valley, he trod unshod amid rocks and thorns. When they refreshed their lips at cool mountain springs, he continued hungry and thirsty on his way. Snow and ice did not daunt him, nor the scorching rays of the sun, nor the tempest's roar. He gave of his life blood freely and faltered not. The other pilgrims found shelter and rest in hospices high up among the mountains. He made his bed in the drifting snow, the ice, the cold. Lest the beauty of Italy delight his eyes, he went blindfolded over its vine-clad hills, through its blooming meadows. For his heart burned with penitence, and his soul ached for pardon. Thus the weeks lengthened into months, and a long year went by. At last the chime of bells was heard in the distance; the white towers of Rome were outlined against the blue Italian sky. Weary and footsore, the pilgrims crept one by one to the holy shrine, and, one by one, each was told that his sins would be forgiven and was bidden to go rejoicing on his way and sin no more. Finally Tannhaeuser's time came. With a cry of relief he prostrated himself before the throne and confessed his awful sin, his wasted years, his deep repentance. He had dwelt in an unholy place, he had been the slave of sinful pleasure, he had blasphemed his God,--but awakening had come at last. Was there pardon for such as he? The first solemn words of answer with their accents of horror brought Tannhaeuser to his feet in terror. As in a dream he listened. No. There could be no pardon for such a sin. He was pronounced accursed forevermore. The judgment continued: "As this barren staff I hold Ne'er will put forth a flower or a leaf Thus shalt thou never more behold Salvation or thy sins relief." Tannhaeuser heard no more. Hopeless and despairing, he staggered wildly from the room and away into the darkness. What mattered it which way he wandered--now, since he was an outcast and accursed forever? Ah, to find a path that would lead to forgetfulness!