Ortruda Plots for Revenge

The stars came out in the deep blue sky of night, waiting for the summer moon. The stately walls of the royal palace of Antwerp threw mysterious shadows all around. And in the darkness of these shadows crept two figures stealthily. They seated themselves at length under a tree which faced the windows of the Princess Elsa’s apartments. Looking up, they saw a light still burning. Then they talked together earnestly in muffled tones. By and by the moon arose, and cast her silvery light about, shifting the shadows according to her royal pleasure. The two dark figures, a man and a woman, moved with the shadows, still keeping close to the palace. They took no thought of rest or sleep that night. The man looked at the woman, and shuddered. The woman turned to the man, a scornful light in her eyes. She was for action, and despised useless regrets and groans. “Frederick of Telramund, why dost thou mistrust me?” she asked quietly. “Why?” he cried wrathfully. “Was it not on thy false word that I accused the guiltless, and condemned an innocent maid? Thou who didst swear that thine own eyes beheld her murder the youthful Godfrey!” “Dost thou know who is this mysterious hero, drawn hither across the sea by a wild swan?” she asked. “Nay, I know not,” he answered. “Hearken now to me,” said Ortruda. “It is forbidden him to reveal either his name or country. That, his own words allowed. The reason I will tell thee. Should he do so, all his magic power instantly vanishes. There is but one person who can tear his secret from him—she whom he so strictly forbade to ask him.” “Ha! Elsa! She must be made to do this!” cried Telramund eagerly. Ortruda looked at him and smiled. Her smile was very terrible. “If thou wilt be but silent and watchful, thou shalt taste the sweets of revenge. But—hist!” The window opposite opened softly. Ortruda and Telramund drew back farther into the shadow. A white-robed figure came out on the balcony. Ortruda whispered in Telramund’s ear: “Go thou, and leave her alone with me,” and Frederick withdrew. “Elsa!” cried a wailing, miserable voice. Elsa started. “Who calls me?” “Is my voice so strange to thee?” answered Ortruda piteously. “Wilt thou repulse one in sore distress?” “Ortruda! Thou! What doest thou here, and at this hour, unhappy woman?” asked Elsa, in surprise. “Ah, woe is me!” moaned Ortruda. “What have I done, that such dark trouble should fall on me? How different thy fate! After a brief time of trouble, every cloud has vanished, and life smiles gloriously before thee.” “Most unworthy should I be of my great happiness, could I spurn one in misery such as thine, Ortruda. Come! I myself will open the door to you.” “Ortruda, where art thou?” called the gentle voice of Elsa, opening the door. “Here at thy feet!” replied Ortruda, throwing herself down before the white-robed figure. “Kneel not to me, I beseech thee, Ortruda,” cried Elsa, much distressed. “Thou, whom I have always beheld in pride and magnificence! Freely I forgive thee. And if in aught thou hast suffered through my fault, I pray thee pardon me in like manner.” “How can I thank thee for such gracious favor?” returned Ortruda, in tones of great humility. “And for thy husband Telramund,” continued Elsa, “I will beseech my noble bridegroom on the morrow, that he show him grace and pardon. So let me see thee once more restored to happiness. Arrayed in thy robe of state, come thou with me to the minister, where our marriage will to-morrow be celebrated before God and all men.” “Thou loadest me with chains of gratitude,” said Ortruda. “Only one way is there in which I may perhaps repay thee—by my knowledge of the hidden arts I may be able to protect thy life, and warn thee should grave danger arise.” “What meanest thou?” asked Elsa, in astonishment. “Trust not thy happiness too blindly,” replied Ortruda darkly, “lest some evil entrap thee unawares.” Ortruda drew closer, and lowered her voice: “Dost know by what magic art _he_ came to thee?”