Then spake the King: "O Kundry, restless, strange,
Am I again thy debtor for such help?
Yet I will try thy balsam for my wound,
And for thy service take my grateful thanks."

But Kundry muttered: "Give no thanks to me.
What will it help,--or this, or e'en the bath?
And yet, away, I say! On to the bath!"
Then the King left her, lying on the ground,
And off he moved upon the couch of pain,
Longing to bathe him in the shining lake,
Hoping against all hope to ease his soul,
And quiet in his body the fierce pains.

And one spake up: "Why lies that woman there,--
A foul and snarling thing on holy ground?
Methinks her healing balm is witching drug
To work a further poison in the King....
She hates us! See her now! How hellishly
She looks at us with hot and spiteful eyes!
She is a heathen witch and sorceress!"

But Gurnemanz, who knew her well, replied:
"What harm has ever come to you from her?
And oft she serves us in the kindliest ways.
For when we want a messenger to send
To distant lands where warrior-knights in fight
Are serving God, she quick takes up the task;
Before you scarcely know is gone and back.