The object of the maiden seemed gained, but, alas! she knew not what anguish destiny had assigned her.
Years had fled, and the Graf von Lauenburg held a fête in his castle.
Suddenly the notes of the warder's horn resound proclaiming the arrival of a guest.
The young Countess looks out of a Gothic window into the court, turns pale and trembles, as her straining eyes gaze upon the entering knight.
Yes! She is not deceived; that is the figure, the noble bearing of her lost Crusader!
"Conrad! my Conrad!" she cries, and rushes, frantic with joy, into the arms of her returned lover. "Thou dost yet live! Thou liest not in the cold arms of death!"
"I live, am in thy arms!"
No word more—a long embrace.
The aged Earl has followed his daughter, and amid their astonishment and joy, Conrad explains how he was severely wounded and taken prisoner, and had not for long years been able to escape.
The father leads the happy pair into the great hall, and announces to the assembled guests the betrothal of his daughter, and an early wedding-day.