"Let me have the sacrament from out the blessed Cup once more before I die," said Titurel.
Amfortas shook his head and groaned aloud.
"Not yet, my father! I am unworthy to uncover the Grail!"
Nevertheless the feeble Titurel urged the point, and all the knights knelt with solemn upturned faces, until at last Amfortas went and unveiled the Cup and poured wine therefrom, so that all might partake. Then he fell to the floor with a shudder of pain. The old wound had broken open afresh. But Titurel and the other knights partook of the sacrament, while the choir-boys chanted responsively and the deep organ pipes thrilled all the lofty arches.
The old keeper of the gate went forward and partook with the rest, while the boy Parsifal stood spellbound behind a pillar and could make no meaning of what he saw.
At last the keeper came and led him forth again to the open air, and then the lad's tongue was loosed.
"I pray thee, why did the King fall to the floor as if in pain?" he asked.
"The wound in his side pained him," answered the keeper.
"Why doesn't it heal?"
"That is a long story. But the wound was made by the sacred Spear, and 'tis said that only the touch of that Spear again can make it well."