to pour out my guilty breast before the chair of our Holy Father in Rome; that so he may forgive me, and I may again be reckoned among men.”
The Tannenhäuser ceased; and Friedrich long viewed him with an investigating look, then took his hand, and said: “I cannot yet recover from my wonder, nor can I understand thy narrative; for it is impossible that all thou hast told me can be aught but an imagination. Emma still lives, she is my wife; thou and I never quarrelled, or hated one another, as thou thinkest: yet before our marriage, thou wert gone on a sudden from the neighbourhood; nor didst thou ever tell me, by a single hint, that Emma was dear to thee.”
Hereupon he took the bewildered Tannenhäuser by the hand, and led him into another room to his wife, who had just then returned from a visit to her sister, which had kept her for the last few days from home. The Tannenhäuser spoke not, and seemed immersed in thought; he viewed in silence the form and face of the lady, then shook his head, and said: “By Heaven, that is the strangest incident of all!”
Friedrich, with precision and connectedness, related all that had befallen him since that time; and tried to make his friend perceive that it had been some singular madness which had, in the mean while, harassed him. “I know very well how it stands,” exclaimed the Tannenhäuser. “It is now that I am crazy; and Hell has cast this juggling show before me, that I may not go to Rome, and seek the pardon of my sins.”
Emma tried to bring his childhood to his recollection; but the Tannenhäuser would not be persuaded. He speedily set out on his journey; that he might the sooner get his absolution from the Pope.
Friedrich and Emma often spoke of the mysterious pilgrim. Some months had gone by, when the Tannenhäuser, pale and wasted, in a tattered pilgrim’s dress, and barefoot, one morning entered Friedrich’s chamber, while the latter was in bed asleep. He kissed his lips, and then said, in breathless haste: “The Holy Father cannot, and will not, forgive me; I must back to my old dwelling.” And with this he went hurriedly away.
Friedrich roused himself; but the ill-fated pilgrim was already gone. He went to his lady’s room; and her maids
