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!”