Reinhilde raises her eyes with firmness to his and replies: "Dear father, forgive, but I do not seek for crowns. Thou thyself hast not hidden from me how heavy is the crown. Thou hast often told me that only love makes happy; and I have found a love deep and pure, and could shout for joy; a heart, a knightly heart is mine. Oh! do not tear this true and noble heart from mine."
The Kaiser frowns and the anger-vein swells on his brow as he replies: "Dost thou dare to speak thus to me, thou shameless girl? Who is the low knave, the insolent coxcomb, who has dared to raise his eyes to the Kaiser's daughter? My rage shall crush him; ruin on his head who has robbed me of the joy of my old age—the heart of my daughter."
All stand aghast at the Kaiser's wrath, all save one noble knight, who steps fearlessly forth from the circle, with head proudly raised, a youth of manly beauty, the blond locks falling on his shoulders, the blue eyes blazing in just indignation, approaches the Kaiser, and cries, "Herr Kaiser, it was not a 'knave.' At the breach on the bloody field thou hast said, 'Brave Werner, thou art my bravest hero!' And thou hast chosen me as companion for thy kingly son. Oft hast thou said to me, 'For Werner's faithfulness where shall I find a worthy reward?' Herr Kaiser, now thou hast the reward; take back the word of scorn; listen to the voice of love; make two hearts happy."
Gently Reinhilde clasps the father's hands; but the anger-vein swells higher on the imperial brow.
"Throw the traitor in the deepest dungeon in chains!" he cries; "and thou, whom I disown as daughter, get out of my sight; let me never see thee again!"
The Kaiser sets spurs to his steed and rides to the Schloss, the attendants bring the unhappy knight to the dungeon, Reinhilde faints and sinks from her steed in the grass, and soon no sound is heard save the sighing in the firs.
With heavy head resting on his arm, the Kaiser sits alone in the great hall of the Königsburg.
Suddenly he starts wildly to his feet; was that a moan that fell upon his ear? No, 'tis only the rattle of the hoarse weathercock. Hark! surely that is a cry of anguish. He listens in agony.
"No, no," the watcher cries from the tower. He hears the moaning of the tempest, and rain and hailstones beat against the windows.
In heartrending tones the Kaiser cries, "Reinhilde! It was too hard and cruel; a loving word had been better."