"Tannhäuser!" he cried. "Is it you?"
Tannhäuser arose hastily, striving to control his emotion and bowed mutely to the Landgrave.
At first the Knights were uncertain whether he had come back as friend or foe. But his humble, downcast looks soon spoke for him. So they welcomed him gladly into their midst.
But Tannhäuser was loath to stay. He knew that if once the Knights learned where he had been, they would shrink from him in horror. Looking into their friendly faces, he was overwhelmed with disgust for all that wicked time in the Venusburg. He longed to fly from their sight.
Since he would not listen to the entreaties of the Landgrave and his Knights, Sir Wolfram, Tannhäuser's old friend, added his plea:
"Have you forgotten Elizabeth?" he asked.
"Elizabeth!" Tannhäuser exclaimed in a tone of awe,—Elizabeth, the beautiful Princess, whose name he had forgotten—what of her?
Then Wolfram, speaking softly,—for he loved the beautiful princess also,—told Tannhäuser all. He told of that rare prize—the Princess's love—which had remained constant during Tannhäuser's long absence. Many Knights had striven to win her, but she had remained true to the one who had gone away. While Tannhäuser had strayed in distant lands, she had stayed in her bower saddened and alone, never gracing the tournaments with her presence, never coming forth to witness joust or tourney. Would he forsake a love like that?
Deeply touched, Tannhäuser listened until the end. Then the light of a great joy and a great hope illumined his face. If Elizabeth, the proud Princess, had not forgotten him, perhaps he might still continue as a Minstrel Knight in the Wartburg.
"Lead me to her," he cried,—"to her."