.9 &
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John V. A. MacMurrry '02




















UNDINE.








UNDINE.
A TALE BY
FRIEDRICH BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUE.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. W. HERRICK.

NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON,
459 Broome Street.
1868.


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
Hurd and Houghton,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of
New York.
riverside, Cambridge:
stereotvped and printed by
h. 0. houghton and company.


CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
J_ How the Knight came to the Fisherman's Cottage 1
""5=- CHAPTER II.
o ' How Undine first came to the Fisherman . . 9
CHAPTER III.
JHOW THEY FOUND UNDINE AGAIN 16
CHAPTER IV.
^ Of what had befallen the Knight in the Forest 21
£ CHAPTER V.
^ Op the Life which the Knight led on the Island . 29
P CHAPTER VI.
Of a Bridal 35
CHAPTER VII.
<^/\Bow the rest of the Evening passed away . . 42
j£ CHAPTER VIII.
The Day after the Marriage 46
ft
CHAPTER IX.
HOW THE I^TGHT AND HIS YOUNG BltlDK DEPARTED . 53


CHAPTER X.
PAGE
Of their Way of Life in the Town .... 69
CHAPTER XI.
Bertalda's Birthday 64
CHAPTER XII.
HOW THEY LEFT THE IMPERIAL ClTY .... 71
CHAPTER XIII.
HOW THEY LIVED IN THE CASTLE OF RlNQSTETTEN . 76
CHAPTER XIV.
How Bertalda drove Home with the Knight . 85
CHAPTER XV.
The Trip to Vienna 93
CHAPTER XVI
Of what befell Huldbrand afterwards . . 100
CHAPTER XVH.
The Knight's Dream 108
CHAPTER XVIII.
Of the Knight Huldbrand's second Bridal . . 108
CHAPTER XIX.
How the Knight Huldbrand was Interred
114



UNDINE.
CHAPTEK I.
HOW THE KNIGHT CAME TO THE FISHERMAN'S
COTTAGE.
Once — it may be some hundreds of years ago —
there lived a good old Fisherman, who, on a fine
summer's evening, was sitting before the door
mending his nets. He dwelt in a land of exceed-
ing beauty. The green slope, upon which he had
built his hut, stretched far out into a great lake;
and it seemed either that the cape, enamored of
the glassy blue waters, had pressed forward into
their bosom, or that the lake had lovingly folded in
its arms the blooming promontory, with her waving
grass and flowers, and the refreshing shade of her
tall trees. Each bade the other welcome, and in-
creased its own beauty by so doing. This lovely
nook was scarcely ever visited by mankind, except
by the Fisherman and his family. For behind the
promontory lay a very wild forest, which, besides
being gloomy and pathless, had too bad a name as
1


2
UNDINE.
the resort of wondrous spirits and goblins, to be
crossed by any one who could help it. Yet the
pious old Fisherman went through it without being
molested, whenever he walked to a large city beyond
the forest, to dispose of the costly fish that he caught
in the lake. For him, indeed, there was little danger,
even in that forest; for his thoughts were almost all
thoughts of devotion, and his custom was to carol
forth to Heaven a loud and heartfelt hymn, on first
setting foot within the treacherous shades.
As he sat this evening most peacefully over his
nets, he was startled in an unwonted manner by a
rustling sound in the forest, like that of a man and
horse; and the noise came nearer and nearer. The
dreams he had had in many a stormy night of the
spirits of the forest started up before his mind, par-
ticularly the image of a gigantic long snow-white
man, who kept nodding his head mysteriously. Nay,
as he raised his eyes and looked into the forest, he
could fancy he saw, through the thick screen of
leaves, the nodding creature advance toward him.
But he soon composed himself, recollecting that
even in the heart of the woods nothing had ever
befallen him; much less here, in the open air, could
the bad spirits have power to touch him. He more-
over repeated a text from the Bible aloud and ear-
nestly, which quite restored his courage, and he
almost laughed to see how his fancy had misled him.
The white nodding man suddenly resolved himself
into a little brook he knew of old, which gushed


UNDINE.
3
bubbling out of the wood, and emptied itself into
the lake. And the rustling had been caused by a
horseman in gorgeous attire, who now came forward
toward the hut from beneath the trees.
He wore a scarlet mantle over his purple, gold-
embroidered jerkin; a plume of red and purple
feathers waved over his gold-colored barret-cap;
and from his golden belt hung a glittering jeweled
sword. The white courser which carried him was
of lighter make than the generality of chargers, and
trod so airily, that the enameled turf seemed
scarcely to bend under him. The aged Fisherman
could not quite shake off his uneasiness, although he
told himself that so noble a guest could bring him
no harm, and accordingly doffed his hat courteously,
and interrupted his work when he approached.
The Knight reined in his horse, and asked whether
they could both obtain one night's shelter.
"As to your horse, good sir," answered the Fish-
erman, " I have no better stable to offer him than
the shady meadow, and no provender but the grass
which grows upon it. But you shall yourself be
heartily welcome to my poor house, and to the best
of my supper and night lodging."
The stranger seemed quite content; he dis-
mounted, and they helped each other to take off the
horse's girth and saddle, after which the Knight let
him graze on the flowery pasture, saying to his host,
"Even if I had found you less kind and hospitable,
my good old man, you must have borne with me till


UNDINE.
5
not say much of that; least of all, said he, was it fit-
1 ting to talk of such things at nightfall; but, on
household concerns, and their own way of life, the
old folks talked readily; and were pleased when the
Knight told them of his travels, and that he had a
castle near the source of the Danube, and that his
name was Lord Huldbrand of Ringstetten. In the
middle of their discourse, the stranger often observed
a noise outside the small window, as if some one
were dashing water against it. The old man knit
his brows and looked grave whenever this occurred;
at last, when a great splash of water came full
against the panes, and some found its way into the
room, he could bear it no longer, but started up,
crying, "Undine! will you never leave off these
childish tricks, — when we have a stranger gentle-
man in the house too!" This produced silence
outside, all but a sound of suppressed giggling, and
the Fisherman said as he came back: "My honored
guest, you must put up with this, and perhaps with
many another piece of mischief; but she means no
harm. It is our adopted child Undine; there is no
breaking her of her childish ways, though she is
eighteen years old now. But as I told you she is as
good a child as ever lived, at bottom."
"Ay, so you may say!" rejoined his wife, shaking
her head. "When you come home from fishing, or
from a journey, her playful nonsense may be pleas-
ant enough. But, to be keeping her out of mis-
chief all day long, as I must do, and never get a


6
UNDINE.
word of sense from her, nor a bit of help and com-
fort in my old age, is enough to weary the patience ,
of a saint."
"Well, well," said the good man, "you feel to-
ward Undine as I do toward the lake. though
its waves are apt enough to burst my banks and my
nets, yet I love them for all that, and so do you love
our pretty wench, with all her plaguy tricks. Don't
you?"
"Why, one cannot be really angry with her, to be
sure," said the dame smiling.
Here the door flew open, and a beautiful fair creat-
ure tripped in, and said, playfully: "Well, father,
you made game of me; where is your guest?" The
next moment she perceived the Knight, and stood
fixed in mute admiration; while Huldbrand gazed
upon her lovely form, and tried to impress her image
on his mind, thinking that he must avail himself of
her amazement to do so, and that in a moment she
would shrink away in a fit of bashfulness. But it
proved otherwise. After looking at him a good
while, she came up to him familiarly, knelt down
beside him, and playing with a golden medal that
hung from his rich chain, she said: "So, thou kind,
thou beautiful guest! hast thou found us out in our
poor hut at last? Why didst thou roam the world
so many years without coming near us? Art come
through the wild forest, my handsome friend?"
The old woman allowed him no time to answer.
She desired her to get up instantly, like a modest








DNDINE.
7
girl, and to set about her work. But Undine, with-
out replying, fetched a footstool and put it close to
Huldbrand's chair, sat down there with her spinning,
and said cheerfully, — "I will sit and work here."
The old man behaved as parents are apt to do with
spoilt children. He pretended not to see Undine's
waywardness, and was beginning to talk of some-
thing else; but she would not let him. She said,
"I asked our visitor where he came from, and he
has not answered me yet."
"From the forest I came, you beautiful sprite,"
answered Huldbrand; and she continued : —
"Then you must tell me how you came there, and
what wonderful adventures you had in it, for I know
that nobody can escape without some."
Huldbrand could not help shuddering on be-
ing reminded of his adventures, and involuntarily
glanced at the window, half expecting to see one of
the strange beings he had encountered in the forest
grinning at him through it; but nothing was to be
seen except the deep black night, which had now
closed in. He recollected himself, and was just be-
ginning his narrative, when the old man interposed:
"Not just now, Sir Knight; this is no time for such
tales."
But Undine jumped up passionately, put her beau-
tiful arms akimbo, and standing before the Fisher-
man, exclaimed: "What! may not he tell his story,
father— may not he? But I will have it; he must!
He shall indeed!" And she stamped angrily with


8
UNDINE.
her pretty feet, but it was all done in so comical and
graceful a manner, that Huldbrand thought her still
more bewitching in her wrath, than in her playful
mood.
Not so the old man; his long-restrained anger
burst out uncontrolled. He scolded Undine smartly
for her disobedience, and unmannerly conduct to
the stranger, his wife chiming in.
Undine then said: "Very well, if you will be
quarrelsome, and not let me have my own way, you
may sleep alone in your smoky old hut!" and she
shot through the door like an arrow, and rushed into
the dark night.



CHAPTER II.
HOW UNDINE FIKST CAME TO THE FISHERMAN.
Huldbrand and the Fisherman sprang from
their seats, and tried to catch the angry maiden;
but before they could reach the house door, Undine
had vanished far into the thick shades, and not a
sound of her light footsteps was to be heard, by
which to track her course. Huldbrand looked
doubtfully at his host; he almost thought that the
whole fair vision which had so suddenly plunged
into the night, must be a continuation of the phan-
tom play which had whirled around him in his pas-
sage through the forest. But the old man mumbled
through his teeth: "It is not the first time she has
served us so. And here are we, left in our anxiety,
with a sleepless night before us; for who can tell
what harm may befall her, all alone out-of-doors till
daybreak?"
"Then let us be after her, good father, for God's
sake!" cried Huldbrand, eagerly.
The old man replied, " Where would be the use?
It were a sin to let you set off alone in pursuit of
the foolish girl, and my old legs would never over-
take such a Will-with-the-wisp — even if we could
guess which way she is gone."


10
UNDINE.
"At least let us call her, and beg her to come
back," said Huldbrand; and he began calling after
her in most moving tones: "Undine! O Undine!
do return!"
The old man shook his head, and said that all the
shouting in the world would do no good with such a
willful little thing. But yet he could not himself
help calling out from time to time in the darkness:
"Undine! ah, sweet Undine! I entreat thee, come
back this once."
The Fisherman's words proved true. Nothing
was to be seen or heard of Undine; and as her fos-
ter-father would by no means suffer Huldbrand to
pursue her, they had nothing for it but to go in
again. They found the fire on the hearth nearly
burnt out, and the dame, who did not take to heart
Undine's flight and danger so much as her husband,
was gone to bed. The old man blew the coals, laid
on dry wood, and by the light of the reviving flames
he found a flagon of wine, which he put between
himself and his guest. "You are uneasy about that
silly wench, Sir Knight," said he, " and we had bet-
ter kill part of the night chatting and drinking, than
toss about in our beds, trying to sleep in vain. Had
not we?"
Huldbrand agreed; the Fisherman made him sit
in his wife's empty arm-chair, and they both drank
and talked together, as a couple of worthy friends
should do. AVhenever, indeed, there was the least
stir outside the window, or even sometimes without


UNDINE.
11
any, one of them would look up and say, "There
she comes." Then they would keep silence for a few
moments, and as nothing came, resume their conver-
sation, with a shake of the head and a sigh.
But as neither could think of much besides Un-
dine, the best means they could devise for beguiling
the time was, that the Fisherman should relate, and
the Knight listen to, the history of her first coining
to the cottage. He began as follows : —
"One day, some fifteen years ago, I was carrying
my fish through that dreary wood to the town. My
wife stayed at home, as usual; and at that time she
had a good and pretty reason for it; — the Lord had
bestowed upon us (old as we already were) a lovely
babe. It was a girl; and so anxious were we to do
our best for the little treasure, that we began to talk
of leaving our beautiful home, in order to give our
darling a good education among other human beings.
With us poor folks, wishing is one thing, and doing
is quite another, Sir Knight; but what then? we
can only try our best. Well then, as I plodded on,
I turned over the scheme in my head. I was loth
to leave our own dear nook, and it made me shudder
to think, in the din and brawls of the town, So it
is here we shall soon live, or in some place nearly as
bad! Yet I never murmured against our good God,
but rather thanked Him in secret for His last bless-
ing; nor can I say that I met with any thing extraor-
dinary in the forest, either coming or going; indeed
nothing to frighten me has ever crossed my path.
The Lord was ever with me in the awful shades."


UNDINE.
13
only an empty shadow. But I soon saw that her
golden hair and gay clothes were dripping wet, and it
struck me the little fairy must have been in the
water, and distressed for help. 'Wife,' said I, ' our
dear child had no friend to save her; shall we not
do for others what would have made our remaining
days so happy, if any one had done it for us?' We
undressed the child, put her to bed, and gave her a
warm drink, while she never said a word, but kept
smiling at us with her sky-blue eyes.
"The next morning we found that she had done
herself no harm; and I asked her who were her
parents, and what had brought her here; but she
gave me a strange, confused answer. I am sure she
must have been born far away, for these fifteen years
have we kept her, without ever finding out where she
came from; and besides, she is apt to let drop such
marvelous things in her talk, that you might think
she had lived in the moon. She will speak of golden
castles, of crystal roofs, and I can't tell what besides.
The only thing she has told us clearly, is, that as she
was sailing on the lake with her mother, she fell into
the water, and when she recovered her senses found
herself lying under these trees, in safety and comfort,
upon our pretty shore.
"So now we had a serious, anxious charge thrown
upon us. To keep and bring up the foundling, in-
stead of our poor drowned child, — that was soon
resolved upon ; but who should tell us if she had
yet been baptized or no? She knew not how to an-


14
UNDINE.
swer the question. That she was one of God's creat-
ures, made for His glory and service, that much she
knew; and any thing that would glorify and please
Him, she was willing to have done. So my wife
and I said to each other: 'If she has never been
baptized, there is no doubt it should be done; and
if she has, better do too much than too little, in a
matter of such consequence.' We therefore began
to seek a good name for the child. Dorothea seemed
to us the best; for I had once heard that meant
God's gift; and she had indeed been sent us by
Him as a special blessing, to comfort us in our
misery. But she would not hoar of that name. She
said Undine was what her parents used to call her,
and Undine she would still be. That, I thought,
sounded like a heathen name, and occurred in no
Calendar; and I took counsel with a priest in the
town about it. He also objected to the name Un-
dine; and at my earnest request, came home with
me, through the dark forest, in order to baptize her.
The little creature stood before ns, looking so gay
and charming in her holiday clothes, that the priest's
heart warmed toward her; and what with coaxing
and willfulness, she got the better of him, so that he
clean forgot all the objections he had thought of to
the name Undine. She was therefore so christened,
and behaved particularly well and decently during
the sacred rite, wild and unruly as she had always
been before. For, what my wife said just now was
too true — we have indeed found her the wildest
little fairy! If I were to tell you all" —


UNDINE.
15
Here the Knight interrupted the Fisherman, to
call his attention to a sound of roaring waters, which
he had noticed already in the pauses of the old
man's speech, and which now rose in fury as it
rushed past the windows. They both ran to the
door. By the light of the newly risen moon, they
saw the brook which gushed out of the forest break-
ing wildly over its banks, and whirling along stones
and branches in its eddying course. A storm, as if
awakened by the uproar, burst from the heavy clouds
that were chasing each other across the moon; the
lake howled under the wings of the wind; the trees
on the shore groaned from top to bottom, and bowed
themselves over the rushing waters. "Undine! for
God's sake, Undine!" cried the Knight, and the old
man. No answer was to be heard; and, heedless
now of any danger to themselves, they ran off in
different directions, calling her in frantic anxiety.



CHAPTER III.
HOW THEY FOUND UNDINE AGAIN.
The longer Huldbrand wandered in vain pursuit
of Undine, the more bewildered he became. The
idea that she might be a mere spirit of the woods,
sometimes returned upon him with double force;
nay, amid the howling of waves and storm, the
groaning of trees, and the wild commotion of the
once-peaceful spot, he might have fancied the whole
promontory, its hut and its inhabitants, to be a delu-
sion of magic, but that he still heard in the distance
the Fisherman's piteous cries of " Undine!" and
the old housewife's loud prayers and hymns, above
the whistling of the blast.
At last he found himself on the margin of the
overflowing stream, and saw it by the moonlight
rushing violently along, close to the edge of the
mysterious forest, so as to make an island of the
peninsula on which he stood. "Gracious Heaven!"
thought he, "Undine may have ventured a step or
two into that awful forest, — perhaps in her pretty
waywardness, just because I would not tell her my
story — and the swoln stream has cut her off, and
left her weeping alone among the spectres!" A cry


UNDINE.
17
of terror escaped him, and he clambered down the
bank by means of some stones and fallen trees,
hoping to wade or swim across the flood, and seek
the fugitive beyond it. Fearful and unearthly visions
did indeed float before him, like those he had met
with in the morning, beneath these groaning, tossing
branches. Especially he was haunted by the ap-
pearance of a tall white man, whom he remembered
but too well, grinning and nodding at him from the
opposite bank; however, the thought of these grim
monsters did but urge him onward as he recol-
lected Undine, now perhaps in deadly fear among
them, and alone.
He had laid hold of a stout pine branch, and
leaning on it, was standing in the eddy, though
scarcely able to stem it, but he stepped boldly for-
ward — when a sweet voice exclaimed close behind
him: "Trust him not — trust not! The old fellow
is tricksy — the stream!"
Well he knew those silver tones: the moon was
just disappearing behind a cloud, and he stood amid
the deepening shades, made dizzy as the water shot
by him with the speed of an arrow. Yet he would
not desist. "And if thou art not truly there, if thou
flittest before me an empty shadow, I care not to
live; I will melt into air like thee, my beloved Un-
dine!" This he cried aloud, and strode further
into the flood.
"Look round then, — look round, fair youth!"
he heard just behind him, and looking round, he be-
2


18
UNDINE.
held by the returning moonbeams, on a fair island
left by the flood, under some thickly interlaced
branches, Undine all smiles and loveliness, nestling
in the flowery grass. How much more joyfully than
before did the young man use his pine staff to cross
the waters! A few strides brought him through the
flood that had parted them; and he found himself
at her side, on the nook of soft grass, securely
sheltered under the shade of the old trees. Undine
half arose, and twined her arms round his neck in
the green arbor, making him sit down by her on the
turf. "Here you shall tell me all, my own friend,"
said she in a low whisper; "the cross old folks can-
not overhear us. And our pretty bower of leaves
is well worth their wretched hut."
"This is heaven!" cried Huldbrand, as he
clasped in his arms the beautiful flatterer.
Meantime the old man had reached the banks of
the stream, and he called out: "So, Sir Knight,
when I had- made you welcome, as one honest man
should another, here are you making love to my
adopted child, — to say nothing of your leaving me
to seek her, alone and terrified, all night."
"I have but this moment found her, old man!"
cried the Knight in reply.
"Well, I am glad of that," said the Fisherman;
"now then bring her back to me at once."
But Undine would not hear of it. She had rather,
she said, go quite away into the wild woods with the
handsome stranger, than return to the hut, where


UNDINE.
19
she had never had her own way, and which the
Knight must sooner or later leave. Embracing
Huldbrand, she sang with peculiar charm and
grace: —
"From misty cave the mountain wave
Leapt out and sought the main!
The Ocean's foam she made her home,
And ne'er returned again."
The old man wept bitterly as she sang, but this did
not seem to move her. She continued to caress her
lover, till at length he said: "Undine, the poor old
man's grief goes to my heart, if not to yours. Let
us go back to him."
Astonished, she raised her large blue eyes to-
ward him, and after a pause answered slowly and
reluctantly: "To please you, I will: whatever you
like pleases me too. But the old man yonder must
first promise me that he will let you tell me all you
saw in the forest, and the rest we shall see about."
"Only come back,— do come!" cried the Fisher-
man, and not another word could he say. At the
same moment he stretched his arms over the stream
toward her, and nodded his head by way of giving
her the desired promise; and as his white hair fell
over his face, it gave him a strange look, and re-
minded Huldbrand involuntarily of the nodding
white man in the woods. Determined, however, that
nothing should stop him, the young Knight took the
fair damsel in his arms, and carried her through the
short space of foaming flood, which divided the


20
UNDINE.
island from the main-land. The old man fell upon
Undine's neck, and rejoiced, and kissed her in the
fullness of his heart; his aged wife also came up, and
welcomed their recovered child most warmly. All
reproaches were forgotten; the more so, as Undine
seemed to have left her sauciness behind, and over-
whelmed her foster parents with kind words and
caresses.
"When these transports of joy had subsided, and
they began to look about them, the rosy dawn was
just shedding its glow over the lake, the storm had
ceased, and the birds were singing merrily on the
wet branches. As Undine insisted upon hearing the
story of the Knight's adventure, both the old folks
cheerfully indulged her. Breakfast was set out un-
der the trees between the cottage and the lake, and
they sat down before it with glad hearts, Undine
placing herself resolutely on the grass at the
Knight's feet. Huldbrand began his narrative as
follows.



CHAPTER IV.
OF "WHAT HAD BEFALLEN THE KNIGHT IN THE
FOREST.
"About eight days ago, I rode into the imperial
city beyond this forest. A grand tournament and
tilting was held there, and I spared neither lance
nor steed. As I stood still a moment to rest my-
self, in a pause of the noble game, and had just given
my helmet in charge to a squire, my eye fell upon a
most beautiful woman, who stood, richly adorned, in
one of the galleries, looking on. I inquired her
name, and found that this charming lady was Ber-
talda, the adopted daughter of one of the principal
lords in the neighborhood. I observed that her eye
was upon me too, and as is the way with us young
knights, I had not been slack before, but I now
fought more bravely still. That evening I was Ber-
talda's partner in the dance, and so I was again
every evening during the jousting."
Here a sudden pain in his left hand, which hung
beside him, checked the Knight in his tale, and he
looked at his hand. Undine's pearly teeth had bit-
ten one of his fingers sharply, and she looked very
black at him. But the next moment that look


.22
UNDINE.
changed into an expression of tender sadness, and
she whispered low: "So you are faithless too!"
Then she hid her face in her hands, and the Knight
proceeded with his tale, although staggered and per-
plexed.
"That Bertalda is a high-spirited, extraordinary
maid. On the second day she charmed me far less
than the first, and on the third, less still. But I re-
mained with her, because she was more gracious to
me than to any other knight, and so it fell out that
I asked her in jest for one of her gloves. 'You
shall have it,' said she, '• if you will visit the haunted
forest alone, and bring me an account of it.' It
was not that I cared much for her glove, but the
words had been spoken, and a knight that loves his
fame does not wait to be twice urged to such a feat."
"I thought she had loved you," interrupted Un-
dine.
"It looked like it," he replied.
"Well," cried the maiden, laughing, " she must be
a fool indeed! To drive him away whom she loves!
and into a haunted forest besides! The forest and
its mysteries might have waited long enough, for
me."
"I set out yesterday morning," continued the
Knight, smiling kindly at Undine. "The stems of
the trees looked so bright in the morning sunshine,
as it played upon the green turf, and the leaves
whispered together so pleasantly, that I could not
but laugh at those who imagined any evil to lurk in








UNDINE.
23
such a beautiful place. I shall very soon have rid-
den through it and back again, thought I, pushing
on cheerily, and before I was aware of it, I found
myself in the depths of its leafy shades, and the
plains behind me far out of sight. It then occurred
to me that I was likely enough to lose my way in
this wilderness of trees, and that this might be the
only real danger to which the traveller was here ex-
posed. So I halted, and took notice of the course of
the sun; it was now high in the heavens.
"On looking up, I saw something black among
the boughs of a tall oak. I took it for a bear, and
seized my rifle; but it addressed me in a human
voice, most hoarse and grating, saying: 'If I did
not break off the twigs up here, what should we do
to-night for fuel to roast you with, Sir Simpleton?'
And he gnashed his teeth, and rattled the boughs,
so as to startle my horse, which ran away with me
before I could make out what kind of a devil it
was."
"You should not mention Ms name," said the
Fisherman, crossing himself; his wife silently did the
same, while Undine turned her beaming eyes upon
her lover, and said, —
"He is safe now; it is well they did not really
roast him. Go on, pretty youth."
He continued: "My terrified horse had almost
dashed me against many a trunk and branch; he
was running down with fright and heat, and yet
there was no stopping him. At length he rushed


24
UNDINE.
madly toward the brink of a stony precipice; but
here, as it seemed to me, a tall white man threw
himself across the plunging animal's path, and made
him start back, and stop. I then recovered the con-
trol of him, and found that, instead of a white man,
my preserver was no other than a bright silvery
brook, which gushed down from a hill beside me,
checking and crossing my horse in his course."
"Thanks, dear brook!" cried Undine, clapping
her hands. But the old man shook his head, and
seemed lost in thought.
"Scarcely had I settled myself in the saddle, and
got firm hold of my reins again," proceeded Huld-
brand, " when an extraordinary little man sprang up
beside me, wizen and hideous beyond measure; he
was of a yellow-brown hue, and his nose almost as
big as the whole of his body. He grinned at me
in the most fulsome way with his wide mouth, bow-
ing and scraping every moment. As I could not
abide these antics, I thanked him abruptly, pulled
my still-trembling horse another way, and thought I
would seek some other adventure, or perhaps go
home; for during my wild gallop the sun had passed
his meridian, and was now declining westward. But
the little imp sprang round like lightning, and stood
in front of my horse again.
"' Make way!' cried I impatiently, ' the animal is
unruly, and may run over you.'"
"' Oh,' snarled the imp, with a laugh more disgust-
ing than before, 'first give me a piece of coin for


UNDINE.
25
having caught your horse so nicely; but for me, you
and your pretty beast would be lying in the pit down
yonder: whew!'
"' Only have done with your grimaces,' said I,
'and take your money along with you, though it is
all a lie: look there, it was that honest brook that
saved me, not you — you pitiful wretch!' So saying,
I dropped a gold coin into his comical cap, which he
held out toward me like a beggar.
"I trotted on, but he still followed, screaming,
and, with inconceivable rapidity, whisked up to my
side. I put my horse into a gallop; he kept pace
with me, though with much difficulty, and twisted
his body into various frightful and ridiculous atti-
tudes, crying at each step as he held up the money:
'Bad coin! bad gold! bad gold! bad coin!' And
this he shrieked in such a ghastly tone, that you
would have expected him to drop down dead after
each cry.
"At last I stopped, much vexed, and asked,
'What do you want, with your shrieks? Take an-
other gold coin; take two if you will, only let me
alone.'
He began his odious smirking again, and
snarled, 'It's not gold, it's not gold that I want,
young gentleman; I have rather more of that than
I can use: you shall see.'
"All at once the surface of the ground became
transparent; it looked like a smooth globe of green
glass, and within it I saw a crowd of goblins at play


26
UNDINE.
with silver ajid gold. Tumbling about, head over
heels, they pelted each other in sport, making a toy
of the precious metals, and powdering their faces
with gold-dust. My ugly companion stood half
above, half below the surface; he made the others
reach up to him quantities of gold, and showed it
me laughing, and then flung it into the fathomless
depths beneath. He displayed the piece of gold I
had given him to the goblins below, who held their
sides with laughing, and hissed at me in scorn. At
length all their bony fingers pointed at me together;
and louder and louder, closer and closer, wilder and
wilder grew the turmoil, as it rose toward me, till
not my horse only, but I myself was terrified; I put
spurs into him, and cannot tell how long I may have
scoured the forest this time.
"When at last I halted, the shades of evening had
closed in. Through the branches I saw a white foot-
path gleaming, and hoped it must be a road out of
the forest to the town. I resolved to work my way
thither; but lo! an indistinct, dead-white face, with
ever-changing features, peeped at me through the
leaves; I tried to avoid it, but wherever I went,
there it was. Provoked, I attempted to push my
horse against it; then it splashed us both over with
white foam, and we turned away, blinded for the
moment. So it drove us, step by step, further and
further from the footpath, and indeed never letting
us go on undisturbed but in one direction. "While
we kept to this, it was close upon our heels, but did


UNDINE.
27
not thwart us. Having looked round once or twice,
I observed that the white foaming head was placed
on a gigantic body, equally white. I sometimes
doubted my first impression, and thought it merely
a water-fall, but I never could satisfy myself that
it was so. Wearily did my horse and I precede
this active white pursuer, who often nodded at us,
as if saying, 'That's right! that's right!' and it
ended by our issuing from the wood here, where I
rejoiced to see your lawn, the lake, and this cottage,
and where the long white man vanished."
"Thank Heaven, he is gone," said the old man,
and he then proceeded to consider how his guest
could best return to his friends in the city. Upon
this, Undine was heard to laugh in a whisper.
Huldbrand observed it, and said: "I thought
you had wished me to stay; and now you seem
pleased when we talk of my going?"
"Because," replied Undine, "you cannot get
away. Only try to cross the swollen brook, in a
boat, on horseback, or on foot. Or rather, do not
try, for you would be dashed to pieces by the
branches and stones that it hurls along. And as to
the lake, I know how that is: father never ventures
across it in his boat."
Huldbrand laughed, and got up to see whether
she had spoken true; the old man went with him,
and the maiden tripped along playfully by their side.
They found she had told them no worse than the
truth, and the Knight resigned himself to staying in


28
UNDINE.
the island, as it might now be called, till the floods
had subsided. As they returned homeward, he
whispered in his pretty companion's ear, — " Well,
my little Undine! are you angry at my staying?"
"Ah," said she sullenly, "never mind. If I had
not bitten you, who knows what might have come
out in your story of Bertalda?"



CHAPTER V.
OP THE LIFE WHICH THE KNIGHT LED ON THE
ISLAND.
Has it ever befallen thee, gentle reader, after
many ups and downs in this troublesome world, to
alight upon a spot where thou foundest rest; where
the love which is born with us for fireside comfort
and domestic peace, revived in thee; where thou
couldst fancy thy early home with the blossoms of
childhood, its pure, heartfelt affection, and the holy
influence breathed from thy fathers' graves, to be
restored to thee — and that it must indeed be "good
for thee to be here, and to build tabernacles?" The
charm may have been broken, the dream dispelled;
but that has nothing to do with our present picture;
nor wilt thou care to dwell on such bitter moments;
but recall to mind that period of unspeakable peace,
that foretaste of angelic rest which was granted thee,
and thou wilt partly conceive what the Knight Huld-
brand felt, while he lived on the promontory. Often,
with secret satisfaction, did he mark the forest
streams rolling by more wildly every day; its bed
became wider and wider, and he felt the period of
his seclusion from the world must be still prolonged.


30 UNDINE.
Having found an old cross-bow in a corner of the
cottage, and mended it, he spent part of his days
roving about, waylaying the birds that flew by, and
bringing whatever he killed to the kitchen, as rare
game. When he came back laden with spoil, Un-
dine would often scold him for taking the life of the
dear little joyous creatures, soaring in the blue
depths of Heaven; she would even weep bitterly
over the dead birds. But if he came home empty-
handed, she found fault with his awkwardness and
laziness, which obliged them to be content with fish
and crabs for dinner. Either way, he took delight
in her pretty fits of anger; the more so as she
rarely failed to make up for them by the fondest
caresses afterwards. The old folks, having been in
the young people's confidence from the first, uncon-
sciously looked upon them as a betrothed or even
married pair, shut out from the world with them in
this retreat, and bestowed upon them for comforts in
their old age. And this very seclusion helped to make
the young Knight feel as if he were already Un-
dine's bridegroom. It seemed to him that the whole
world was contained within the surrounding waters,
or at any rate, that he could never more cross that
charmed boundary, and rejoin other human beings
And if at times the neighing of his steed reminded
him of former feats of chivalry, and seemed to ask
for more; if his coat of arms, embroidered on the
saddle and trappings, caught his eye; or if his good
sword fell from the nail on which he had hung it,


UNDINE.
31
and slipped out of its scabbard, he would silence the
misgivings that arose, by thinking, Undine is not a
fisherman's daughter, but most likely sprung from
some highly noble family in distant lands. The
only thing that ever ruffled him, was to hear the old
woman scolding Undine. The wayward girl only
laughed at her; but to him it seemed as if his own
honor were touched; and yet he could not blame
the good wife, for Undine mostly deserved ten times
worse than she got, therefore he still felt kindly
toward the old dame, and these little rubs scarcely
disturbed the even current of their lives.
At length, however, a grievance did arise. The
Knight and the Fisherman were in the habit of sit-
ting cheerfully over a flask of wine, both at noon,
and also at eventide while the wind whistled around,
as it generally did at night. But they had now ex-
hausted the whole stock which the Fisherman had,
long since, brought from the town with him, and
they both missed it sadly. Undine laughed at them
all day for it, but they could not join in her mirth
as heartily as usual. Toward evening she left the
cottage, saying she could no longer bear such long,
dismal faces. As the twilight looked stormy, and
the waters were beginning to moan and heave, the
Knight and the old man ran out anxiously to fetch
her back, remembering the agony of that night when
Huldbrand first came to the cottage. But they
were met by Undine, clapping her hands merrily.
"What will you give me if I get you some wine?


32
UNDINE.
But, indeed, I want no reward for it," she added;
"I shall be satisfied if you will but look brighter,
and find more to say than you have done all these
tedious mornings. Come along; the floods have
washed a barrel ashore, and I will engage to sleep a
whole week through if it is not a barrel of wine!"
The men both followed her to a shady creek, and
there found a barrel, which did look as if it con-
tained the generous liquor which they longed for.
They rolled it toward the hut as fast as they could,
for a heavy storm seemed stalking across the sky,
and there was light enough left to show them the
waves of the lake tossing up their foaming heads, as
if looking out for the rain which would soon pour
down upon them. Undine lent a hand in the work,
and presently, when the shower threatened to break
instantly over their heads, she spoke to the big
clouds in playful defiance: "You, you there! mind
you do not give us a drenching; we are some way
from home yet." The old man admonished her that
this was sinful presumption, but she laughed slyly to
herself, and no harm came of it. Beyond their
hopes, they all three reached the comfortable fireside
with their prize, unhurt; and it was not till they had
opened the barrel, and found it to contain excellent
wine, that the rain broke from the heavy clouds in
torrents, and they heard the storm roaring among
the trees, and over the lake's heaving billows.
A few bottles were soon filled from the great
barrel, enough to last them several days; and they


UNDINE.
33
sat sipping and chatting over the bright fire, secure
from the raging tempest But the old man's heart
presently smote him. "Dear me," said he, "here are
we making merry over the blessing of Providence,
while the owner of it has perhaps been carried away
by the flood, and lost his life !" —" No, that he has
not," said Undine, smiling; and she filled the
Knight's glass again. He replied, " I give you my
word, good father, that if I knew how to find and
save him, no danger should deter me; I would not
shrink from setting out in this darkness. This much
I promise you, if ever I set foot in an inhabited
country again, I will make inquiry after him or his
heirs, and restore to them twice or three times the
value of the wine." This pleased the old man; he
gave an approving nod to the Knight, and drained
his glass with a better conscience and a lighter heart.
But Undine said to Huldbrand, "Do as you like
with your money, you may make what compensation
you please ; but as to setting out and wandering after
him, that was hastily said. I should cry my heart
out if we chanced to lose you; and had not you
rather stay with me and with the good wine?"
"Why, yes!" said Huldbrand, laughing. "Well
then," rejoined Undine, "it was a foolish thing you
talked of doing; charity begins at home, you know."
The old woman turned away, shaking her head and
sighing; her husband forgot his usual indulgence for
the pretty lassie, and reproved her sharply. "One
would think," said he, "you had been reared by
3


34
UNDINE.
Turks and heathens; God forgive you and us, you
perverse child."—" Ay but it is my way of thinking,"
pursued Undine, "whoever has reared me, so what
is the use of your talking ?" — " Peace!" cried the
Fisherman; and she, who with all her wildness was
sometimes cowed in a moment, clung trembling to
Huldbrand, and whispered, "And are you angry
with me, dear friend?" The Knight pressed her
soft hand, and stroked down her ringlets. Not a
word could he say; his distress at the old man's
harshness toward Undine had sealed his lips; and so
each couple remained sitting opposite the other, in
moody silence and constraint.



CHAPTER VI.
OP A BRIDAL.
A gentle tap at the door broke the silence, and
made them all start: it sometimes happens that a
mere trifle, coming quite unexpectedly, strikes the
senses with terror. They looked at each other,
hesitating; the tap was repeated, accompanied by a
deep groan; and the Knight grasped his sword.
But the old man muttered, " If it is what I fear, it is
not a sword that will help us!" Undine, however,
stepped forward to the door, and said boldly and
sharply, "If you are after any mischief, you spirits
of earth, Kiihleborn shall teach you manners."
The terror of the others increased at these strange
words; they looked at the maiden with awe, and
Huldbrand was just mustering courage to ask her a
question, when a voice answered her from without:
"I am no spirit of earth; call me, if you will, a
spirit pent in mortal clay. If you fear God, and
will be charitable, you dwellers in the cottage, open
the door to me." Undine opened it before he had
done speaking, and held out a lamp into the stormy
night, so as to show them the figure of an aged
Priest, who started back as the radiant beauty of


36
UNDINE.
Undine flashed upon his sight. "Well might he sus-
pect magic and witchery, when so bright a vision
shone out of a mean-looking cottage; he accordingly
began a canticle," All good spirits give praise to the
Lord!"
"I am no ghost," said Undine, smiling; "am I so
frightful to behold? And you may see that a pious
saying has no terrors for me. I worship God, too,
and praise Him after my own fashion; He has not
created us all alike. Come in, venerable father; you
will find worthy folks here."
The holy man walked in, bowing and casting his
eyes around, and looking most mild and venerable.
Every fold of his dark garment was dripping with
water, and so were his long white beard and hoary
locks. The Fisherman and the Knight led him to
a bedroom, and gave him change of clothing, while
the women dried his wet garments by the hearth
fire. The aged stranger thanked them with all hu-
mility and gentleness, but would by no means accept
of the Knight's splendid mantle, which he offered
him: he chose himself an old gray wrapper of the
Fisherman's instead. So they returned to the
kitchen; the dame gave up her own arm-chair to
the Priest, and had no peace till he sat himself down
in it: "For," said she, " you are old and weary, and
a priest besides." Undine pushed her little foot-
stool, on which she generally sat by Huldbrand,
toward the good man's feet, and altogether behaved
to him quite properly and gracefully. Huldbrand


UNDINE.
87
took notice of this, in a playful whisper; but she an-
swered very gravely: "Because he is a servant of
the Maker of us all; that is too serious for a jest."
Meantime the two men set meat and wine before
their guest, and when he had recruited his strength
a little, he began his story; saying that the day be-
fore he had left his monastery, which was a good
way off beyond the lake, intending to visit the bishop
at his palace, and report to him the distress which
these almost supernatural floods had caused the
monks and their poor tenantry. After going round
a long way, to avoid these very floods, he had been
obliged toward evening to cross an arm of the over-
flowing lake, with the help of two honest sailors.
"But," ad^ed he, "no sooner had our little vessel
touched the waves, than we were wrapped in the
tremendous storm, which is still raging over our
heads now. It looked as if the waters had only
awaited our coming to give a loose to their fury.
The oars were soon dashed from the seamen's hands,
and we saw their broken fragments carried further
and further from us by the waves. We floated on
the wave tops, helpless, driven by the furious tem-
pest toward your shores, which we saw in the dis-
tance whenever the clouds parted for a moment.
The boat was tossed about still more wildly and gid-
dily; and whether it upset, or I fell out, I cannot
tell. I floated on, with the dark prospect of instant
death before me, till a wave landed me at the foot of
a tree, in this your island."


38 UNDINE.
»
"Ay, island indeed!" said the Fisherman. "It
was a promontory but a short time ago. But, since
the stream and our lake are gone raving mad to-
gether, every thing about us is new and strange."
The Priest continued: "As I crept along the
water-side in the dark, with a wild uproar around me,
something caught my eye, and presently I descried
a beaten pathway, which was soon lost in the shades;
I spied the light in your cottage, and ventured to
come hither; and I cannot sufficiently thank my
heavenly Father, who has not only delivered me
from the waters, but guided me to such kind souls.
I feel this blessing the more, as it is very likely I
may never see any faces but yours again." — " How
so?" asked the Fisherman. "Can you .guess how
long this fury of the elements may last?" replied
the Priest. "And I am an old man. My stream
of life may perhaps lose itself in the earth, before
these floods subside. And besides, it may be the
foaming waters will divide you from the forest more
and more, till you are unable to get across in your
fishing boat; and the people of the main-land, full of
their own concerns, would quite forget you in your
retreat."
Shuddering, and crossing herself, the Fisherman's
wife exclaimed, " God forbid!" But the old man
smiled at her, and said, " What creatures we are!
That would make no difference, to you at least, my
dear wife. How many years is it since you have
set foot within the forest? And have you seen any


DNDINE.
39
face but Undine's and mine? Lately, indeed, we
have had the good Knight and Priest besides. But
they would stay with us; so that if we are forgotten
in this island, you will be the gainer."
"So I see," said the dame; "yet somehow, it is
cheerless to feel ourselves quite cut off from the rest
of the world, however seldom we had seen it before."
"Then you will stay with us!" murmured Undine
in a sweet voice, and she pressed closer to Huld-
brand's side. But he was lost in deep thought.
Since the Priest had last spoken, the land beyond
the wild stream had seemed to his fancy more dark
and distant than ever; while the flowery island he
lived in — and his bride, the fairest flower in the
picture — bloomed and smiled more and more
freshly in his imagination. Here was the Priest at
hand to unite them ; — and, to complete his resolu-
tion, the old dame just then darted a reproving look
at Undine, for clinging to her lover's side in the holy
man's presence; an angry lecture seemed on the
point of beginning. He turned toward the Priest,
and these words burst from him: "You see before
you a betrothed pair, reverend sir; if this damsel
and the kind old people will consent, you shall unite
us this very evening."
The old folks were much surprised. Such a
thought had often crossed their minds, but they had
never till this moment heard it uttered; and it now
fell upon their ears like an unexpected thing. Un-
dine had suddenly become quite grave, and sat mus-


40
UNDINE.
ing deeply, while the Priest inquired into various
circumstances, and asked the old couple's consent to
the deed. After some deliberation, they gave it;
the dame went away to prepare the young people's
bridal chamber, and to fetch from her stores two
consecrated tapers for the wedding ceremony.
Meanwhile the Knight was pulling two rings off his
gold chain for himself and his bride to exchange.
But this roused Undine from her reverie, and she
said: "Stay! my parents did not send me into the
world quite penniless; they looked forward long ago
to this occasion, and provided for it." She quickly
withdrew, and returned bringing two costly rings,
one of which she gave to her betrothed and kept the
other herself. This astonished the old Fisherman,
and still more his wife, who came in soon after; for
they neither of them had ever seen these jewels
about the child. "My parents," said Undine, "had
these rings sewed into the gay dress which I wore,
when first I came to you. They charged me to let
no one know of them till my wedding-day came.
Therefore I took them secretly out of the dress, and
have kept them hidden till this evening."
Here the Priest put a stop to the conversation, by
lighting the holy tapers, placing them on the table,
and calling the young pair to him. With few and
solemn words he joined their hands; the aged couple
gave their blessing, while the bride leaned upon her
husband, pensive and trembling.
When it was over, the Priest said: "You are


UNDINE.
41
strange people after all! What did you mean by
saying you were the only inhabitants of this island?
During the whole ceremony there was a fine-looking
tall man, in a white cloak, standing just outside the
window opposite me. He must be near the door
still, if you like to invite him in." — " Heaven for-
bid!" said the dame, shuddering; the old man
shook his head without speaking; and Huldbrand
rushed to the window. He could fancy he saw a
streak of white, but it was soon lost in darkness.
So he assured the Priest he must have been mis-
taken; and they all sat down comfortably round the
fire.



CHAPTER VII.
HOW THE REST OF THE EVENING PASSED AWAY.
Undine had been perfectly quiet and well-be-
haved both before and during the marriage cere-
mony ; but now her wild spirits seemed the more un-
controllable from the restraint they had undergone,
and rose to an extravagant height. She played all
manner of childish tricks on her husband, her foster
parents, and even the venerable Priest, and when the
old woman began to check her, one or two words
from Huldbrand, who gravely called Undine "his
wife," reduced her to silence. The Knight himself,
however, was far from being pleased at Undine's
childishness; but no hint or sign would stop her.
Whenever she perceived his disapproving looks —
which she occasionally did — it subdued her for the
moment; she would sit down by him, whisper some-
thing playfully in his ear, and so dispel the frown
as it gathered on his brow. But the next instant
some wild nonsense would dart into her head, and
set her off worse than ever. At last the Priest said
to her, in a kind but grave manner, " My dear young
lady, no one that beholds you can be severe upon
you, it is true; but remember, it is your duty to


UNDINE.
48
keep watch over your soul, that it may be ever in
harmony with that of your wedded husband."
"Soul!" cried Undine, laughing; "that sounds very
fine, and for most people may be very edifying and
moral advice. But if one has no soul at all, pray
how is one to keep watch over it? And that is my
case." The Priest was deeply hurt, and turned away
his face in mingled sorrow and anger. But she
came up to him beseechingly, and said, " Nay, hear
me before you are angry, for it grieves me to see you
displeased, and you would not distress any creature
who has done you no harm. Only have patience
with me, and I will tell you all, from the beginning."
They saw she was preparing to give them a regu-
lar history; but she stopped short, appearing thrilled
by some secret recollection, and burst into a flood
of gentle tears. They were quite at a loss what to
think of her, and gazed upon her, distressed from
various causes. At length drying her eyes, she
looked at the Priest earnestly and said, "There must
be much to love in a soul, but much that is awful
too. For God's sake, holy father, tell me — were it
not better to be still without one?" She waited
breathlessly for an answer, restraining her tears.
Her hearers had all risen from their seats, and now
stepped back from her, shuddering. She seemed to
have no eyes but for the saintly man; her counte-
nance assumed an expression of anxiety and awe
which yet more alarmed the others. "Heavy must
be the burden of a soul," added she, as no one an-


44
UNDINE.
swered her, —" heavy indeed! for the mere ap-
proach of mine overshadows me with anxious mel-
ancholy. And ah! how light-hearted, how joyous
I used to be!" A fresh burst of weeping overcame
her, and she covered her face with her veil.
The Priest then approached her with much grav-
ity, and adjured her by the holiest names to confess
the truth, if any evil lurked in her, unknown to
them. But she fell on her knees before him, re-
peated after him all his words of piety, gave praise
to God, and declared she was in charity with all the
world. The Priest turned to the young Knight.
"Sir bridegroom," said he, " I leave you alone with
her whom I have made your wife. As far as I can
discover, there is no evil, although much that is mys-
terious, in her. I exhort you to be sober, loving, and
faithful." So he went out; and the old people fol-
lowed, crossing themselves.
Undine was still on her knees; she uncovered
her face and looked timidly at Huldbrand, saying,
"Ah, thou wilt surely cast me off now; and yet I
have done nothing wrong, poor, poor child that I
am!" This she said with so touching and gentle an
expression, that her husband forgot all the gloom
and mystery that had chilled his heart; he hastened
toward her, and raised her in his arms. She smiled
through her tears — it was like the glow of dawn
shining upon a clear fountain. "Thou canst not for-
sake me!" whispered she, in accents of the firmest
reliance; and she stroked his cheeks with her soft


UNDINE.
45
little hands. He tried to shake off the gloomy
thoughts which still lurked in a corner of his mind,
suggesting to him that he had married a fairy, or
some shadowy being from the world of spirits: one
question, however, he could not help asking: "My
dear little Undine, just tell me one thing: what was
that you said about spirits of earth, and Kiihleborn,
when the Priest knocked at the door ?" — All non-
sense !" said Undine, laughing, with her usual gayety.
"First I frightened you with it, and then you fright-
ened me. And that is the end of the story, and of
our wedding-day !" — " No, it is not over," said her
now delighted lover; he extinguished the tapers,
and by the light of the moon, which beamed brightly
through the casement, he carried his beautiful wife
into the bridal chamber.



CHAPTER VIII.
THE DAY AFTER THE MARRIAGE.
A bright morning light wakened the young peo-
ple; and Huldbrand lay musing silently. As often
as he had dropped asleep, he had been scared by
horrible dreams of spectres, who suddenly took the
form of fair women, or of fair women who were trans-
formed into dragons. And when he started up from
these grim visions, and saw the pale, cold moonlight-
streaming in at the window, he would turn an anx-
ious look toward Undine; she lay slumbering in un-
disturbed beauty and peace. Then he would com-
pose himself to sleep again — soon again to wake in
terror. When he looked back upon all this in broad
daylight, he was angry with himself for having let a
suspicion, a shade of distrust of his beautiful wife,
enter his mind. He frankly confessed to her this
injustice; she answered him only by pressing his
hand, and sighing from the bottom of her heart.
But a look, such as her eyes had never before given,
of the deepest and most confiding tenderness, left
him no doubt that she forgave him. So he arose
cheerfully, and joined the family in the sitting-room.
The three others were gathered round the hearth,


UNDINE.
47
looking uneasy, and neither of them having ventured
to speak his thoughts yet. The Priest seemed to
be secretly praying for deliverance from evil. But
when the young husband appeared, beaming with
happiness, the care-worn faces brightened up; nay,
the Fisherman ventured upon a few courteous jokes
with the Knight, which won a smile even from the
good housewife. Meanwhile Undine had dressed
herself, and now came in; they could not help rising
to meet her, and stood still, astonished; the young
creature was the same, yet so different. The Priest
was the first to address her, with an air of paternal
kindness, and when he raised his hands in benedic-
tion, the fair woman sank on her knees, trembling
with pious awe. In a few meek and humble words,
she begged him to forgive the folly of the day before,
and besought him, with great emotion, to pray for the
salvation of her soul. Then rising, she kissed her
foster parents, and thanking them for all their kind-
ness, she said: "Oh, now I feel from the bottom of
my heart how much you have done for me, how
deeply grateful I ought to be, dear, dear people!"
She seemed as if she could not caress them enough;
but soon, observing the dame glance toward the
breakfast, she went toward the hearth, busied herself
arranging and preparing the meal, and would not suf-
fer the good woman to take the least trouble herself.
So she went on all day; at once a young matron,
and a bashful, tender, delicate bride. The three
who knew her best were every moment expecting


48
UNDINE.
this mood to change, and give place to one of her
crazy fits; but they watched her in vain. There
was still the same angelic mildness and sweetness.
The Priest could not keep his eyes away from her;
and he said more than once to the bridegroom, " Sir,
it was a great treasure which Heaven bestowed upon
you yesterday, by my poor ministration; cherish her
worthily, and she will be to you a blessing in time
and eternity."
Toward evening, Undine clasped the Knight's
arm with modest tenderness, and gently led him out
before the door, where the rays of the setting sun
were lighting up the fresh grass, and the tall, taper
stems of trees. The young wife's face wore a melt-
ing expression of love and sadness, and her lips
quivered with some anxious, momentous secret,
which as yet betrayed itself only by scarce audible
sighs. She silently led her companion onward; if
he spoke, she replied by a look which gave him no
direct answer, but revealed a whole heaven of love
and timid submission. So they reached the banks
of the stream which had overflowed, and the Knight
started on finding the wild torrent changed into a
gentle rippling brook, without a trace of its former
violence left. "By to-morrow it will have dried up
completely," said the bride, in a faltering voice,
"and thou mayest begone whither thou wilt." —
"Not without thee, my Undine," said the Knight,
playfully; "consider, if I had a mind to forsake
thee, the Church, the Emperor, and his ministers


UNDINE.
49
might step in, and bring thy truant home." — " No,
no, you are free; it shall be as you please!" mur-
mured Undine, half tears, half smiles. "But I
think thou wilt not cast me away; is not my heart
bound up in thine? Carry me over to that little
island opposite. There I will know my fate. I
could indeed easily step through the little waves;
but I love to rest in thine arms! and thou mayest
cast me off; this may be the last time." Huldbrand,
full of anxious emotion, knew not how to answer.
He took her up in his arms, and carried her over,
now recollecting that from this very island he had
borne her home to the Fisherman, on the night of
his arrival. When there, he placed his fair burden
on the turf, and was going to sit down by her: but
she said, " No, sit there, opposite me — I will read
my doom in your eyes, before your lips have spoken
it. Now listen, and I will tell you all." And she
began: —
"You must know, my own love, that in each ele-
ment exists a race of beings, whose form scarcely
differs from yours, but who very seldom appear to
mortal sight. In the flames, the wondrous Sala-
manders glitter and disport themselves; in the
depths of earth dwell the dry, spiteful race of
Gnomes; the forests are peopled by Wood-nymphs,
who are also spirits of air; and the seas, the rivers,
and brooks contain the numberless tribes of Water-
sprites. Their echoing halls of crystal, where the
light of heaven pours in, with its sun and stars, are


50
UNDINE. •
glorious to dwell in; the gardens contain beautiful
coral plants, with blue and red fruits; they wander
over bright sea-sands, and gay-colored shells, among
the hidden treasures of the old world, too precious
to be bestowed on these latter days, and long since
covered by the silver mantle of the deep: many a
noble monument still gleams there below, bedewed
by the tears of Ocean, who garlands it with flowery
sea-weeds and wreaths of shells. Those that dwell
there below, are noble and lovely to behold, far more
so than mankind. Many a fisherman has had a
passing glimpse of some fair water-nymph, rising
out of the sea with her song; he would then spread
the report of her apparition, and these wonderful
beings came to be called Undines. And you now
see before you, my love, an Undine."
The Knight tried to persuade himself that his fair
wife was in one of her wild moods, and had invented
this strange tale in sport. But though he said this
to himself, he could not for a moment believe it; a
mysterious feeling thrilled him; and, unable to utter
a word, he kept his eyes riveted on the beautiful
speaker. She shook her head sadly, heaved a deep
sigh, and went on : —
"We might be happier than our human fellow-
creatures, (for we call you fellow-creatures, as our
forms are alike,) but for one great evil. We, and
the other children of the elements, go down to the
dust, body and spirit; not a trace of us remains;
and when the time comes for you to rise again to a


52
UNDINE.
swore never to forsake his beloved wife; and said he
felt more blessed than the Greek statuary Pygma-
lion, whose beautiful statue dame Venus transformed
into a living woman. Hanging on his arm in peace-
ful reliance, Undine returned; and she felt from her
inmost heart, how little cause she had to regret the
crystal palaces of her father.








UNDINE.
55
The three travellers reached the deepest shades
of the forest, without breaking silence. It was a
fair sight to behold, as they passed through the leafy
bowers: the graceful woman sitting on her noble
steed, guarded on one side by the venerable Priest
in the white habit of his order; on the other, by the
youthful Knight, with his gorgeous attire and glitter-
ing sword. Huldbrand had no eyes but for his
precious wife; Undine, who had dried her duteous
tears, no thought but for him; and they soon fell
into a noiseless interchange of glances and signs,
which at length was interrupted by the sound of a
low murmur, proceeding from the Priest and a
fourth fellow-traveller, who had joined them unob-
served. He wore a white robe, very like the Priest's
dress, except that the hood almost covered his face,
and the rest of it floated round him in such large
folds that he was perpetually obliged to gather it
up, throw it over his arm, or otherwise arrange it;
yet it did not seem to impede him at all in walking;
when the young people saw him he was saying;
"And so, my worthy father, I have dwelt in the for-
est for many a year, yet I am not what you commonly
call a hermit. For, as I told you, I know nothing
of penance, nor do I think it would do me much
good. What makes me so fond of the woods is, that
I have a very particular fancy for winding through
the dark shades and forest walks, with my loose
white clothes floating about me; now and then a
pretty sunbeam will glance over me as I go."—" You


56
UNDINE.
seem to be a very curious person," replied the Priest,
"and I should like to know more about you." —
"And pray who are you, to carry on the acquaint-
ance?" said the stranger. "They call me Father
Heilmann," answered the Priest, "and I belong to
St. Mary's monastery, beyond the lake." — " Ay,
ay!" rejoined the other. "My name is Kiihleborn,
and if I stood upon ceremony, I might well call my-
self Lord of Kiihleborn, or Baron (Freiherr) Kiihle-
born; for free I am, as the bird of the air, or a trifle
more free. For instance, I must now have a word
with the young woman there." And before they
could look round, he was on the other side of the
Priest, close to Undine, and stretching up his tall
figure to whisper in her ear. But she turned hastily
away, saying, " I have nothing more to do with you
now."—"Heyday!" said the stranger, laughing,
"what a prodigiously grand marriage yours must be,
if you are to cast off your relations in this way!
Have you forgotten Uncle Kiihleborn, who brought
you all the way here on his back so kindly?"
"But I entreat you," said Undine, " never come to
me again. I am afraid of you now; and will not my
husband become afraid of me, if he finds I have so
strange a family ?" — " My little niece," said Kiihle-
born, "please to remember that I am protecting
you all this time; the foul Spirits of Earth might
play you troublesome tricks if I did not. So you
had better let me go on with you, and no more
words. The old Priest there has a better memory


UNDINE.
than yours, for he would have it he knew my face
very well, and that I must have been with him in
the boat, when he fell into the water. And he may
well say so, seeing that the wave which washed him
over was none but myself, and I landed him safe on
the shore, in time for your wedding."
Undine and the Knight looked at Father Heil-
mann, but he seemed to be plodding on in a waking
dream, and not listening to what was said. Undine
said to Kiihleborn, " There, I can see the end of the
wood; we want your help no longer, and there is
nothing to disturb us but you. So, in love and
kindness I entreat you, begone, and let us go in
peace." This seemed to make Kiihleborn angry;
he twisted his face hideously, and hissed at Undine,
who cried aloud for help. Like lightning the
Knight passed round her horse, and aimed a blow
at Kiihleborn's head with his sword. But instead
of the head, he struck into a water-fall, which gushed
foaming down a high cliff near them, and now
showered them all with a splash that sounded like
laughter, and wetted them to the bone. The Priest,
seeming to wake up, said, "Well, I was expecting
this, because that brook gushed down the rock so
close to us. At first I could not shake off the idea
that it was a man, and was speaking to me." The
water-fall whispered distinctly in Huldbrand's ear,
"Rash youth, dashing youth, I chide thee not, I
shame thee not; still shield thy precious wife safe
and sure, rash young soldier, dashing Knight!"



CHAPTER X.
OP THEIR WAY OF LIFE IN THE TOWN.
The sudden disappearance of the young Knight
Huldbrand of Ringstetten had made a great stir in
the city, and distressed the inhabitants, with whom
his gallantry in the lists and the dance, and his gen-
tle, courteous manners, had made him very popular.
His retainers would not leave the place without their
master, but yet none had the courage to seek him in
the haunted forest. They therefore remained in
their hostelry, idly hoping, as men are so apt to do,
and keeping alive the remembrance of their lost lord
by lamentations. But soon after, when the tempest
raged and the rivers overflowed, few doubted that the
handsome stranger must have perished. Bertalda,
among others, mourned him for lost, and was ready
to curse herself, for having urged him to the fatal
ride through the forest. Her ducal foster parents
had arrived to take her away, but she prevailed upon
them to wait a little, in hope that a true report of
Huldbrand's death or safety might reach them. She
tried to persuade some one of the young knights who
contended for her favor, to venture into the forest
and seek for the noble adventurer. But she would


60
UNDINE.
not offer her hand as the re.ward, because she still
hoped to bestow it some day on the wanderer him-
self; and to obtain a glove, a scarf, or some such
token from her, none of them cared to expose his
life to bring back so dangerous a rival.
Now, when Huldbrand unexpectedly reappeared,
it spread joy among his servants, and all the people
generally, except Bertalda; for while the others
were pleased at his bringing with him such a beauti-
ful wife, and Father Heilmann to bear witness to
their marriage, it could not but grieve her: first, be-
cause the young Knight had really won her heart;
and next, because she had betrayed her feelings by
so openly lamenting his absence, far more than was
now becoming. However, she behaved like a pru-
dent woman, and suited her conduct to the circum-
stances, by living in the most cordial intimacy with
Undine, — who passed in the town for a princess, re-
leased by Huldbrand from the power of some wicked
enchanter of the forest. If she or her husband
were questioned about it, they gave evasive answers;
Father Heilmann's lips were sealed on all such idle
topics, besides which, he had left them soon after
they arrived, and returned to his cloister: so the
citizens were left to their own wondering conject-
ures, and even Bertalda came no nearer the truth
than others.
Meanwhile, Undine grew daily more fond of this
winning damsel. "We must have known each
other before," she would often say, "or else some


UNDINE.
61
secret attraction draws us toward each other; for
without some cause, some strange, mysterious cause,
I am sure nobody would love another as I have loved
you from the moment we met." Bertalda, on her
part, could not deny that she felt strongly inclined
to like Undine, notwithstanding the grounds of com-
plaint she thought she had against this happy rival.
The affection being mutual, the one persuaded her
parents, the other her wedded lord, to defer the day
of departure repeatedly; they even went so far as
to propose that Bertalda should accompany Undine
to the castle of Bingstetten, near the source of the
Danube.
They were talking of this one fine evening, as
they sauntered by starlight round the market-place,
which was surrounded by high trees; the young
couple had invited Bertalda to join their evening
stroll, and they now paced backward and forward
in pleasant talk, with the dark blue sky over their
heads, and a beautiful fountain before them in the
centre, which, as it bubbled and sprang up into fan-
ciful shapes, often caught their attention, and inter-
rupted the conversation. All around them was serene
and pleasant; through the foliage gleamed the light
of many a lamp from the surrounding houses; and
the ear was soothed by the hum of children at play,
and of sauntering groups like themselves; they en-
joyed at once the pleasure of solitude, and the social
happiness of being near the cheerful haunts of men.
Every little difficulty that had occurred to their fa-


62
UNDINE.
vorite plan, seemed to vanish upon nearer examina-
tion, and the three friends could not imagine that
Bertalda's consent to the journey need be delayed a
moment. But as she was on the point of naming a
day for joining them and setting out, a very tall man
came forward from the middle of the place, bowed
to them respectfully, and began whispering in Un-
dine's ear. She, though apparently displeased with
the interruption and with the speaker, stepped aside
with him, and they began a low discourse together,
in what sounded like a foreign language. Huld-
brand thought he knew this strange man's face, and
fixed his attention upon him so earnestly, that he
neither heard nor answered the astonished Bertalda's
questions. All at once Undine clapped her hands
joyfully, and turned her back, laughing, upon the
stranger; he shook his head and walked off in an
angry, hurried manner, and stepped into the foun-
tain. This confirmed Huldbrand in his guess; while
Bertalda inquired, " My dear Undine, what business
had that man of the fountain with you?" Her
friend smiled archly and replied, "On your birthday,
the day after to-morrow, I will tell you, my sweet
girl;" and she would say no more. She only
pressed Bertalda to come and dine with them on
that day, and bring her foster parents; after which
they separated.
"Kiihleborn ?" said Huldbrand to his wife with a
suppressed shudder, as they walked home through .
the dark streets. "Yes, it was he, replied Undine,


UNDINE.
63
"and he tried to put all sorts of nonsense into my
head. However, without intending it he delighted
me by one piece of news. If you wish to hear it,
now, my kind lord, you have but to say so, and I
will tell you every word. But if you like to give
your Undine a very great delight, you will wait two
days, and then have your share in the surprise."
The Knight readily granted her what she had
asked so meekly and gracefully; and as she dropped
asleep she murmured, "How it will delight her!
how little she expects such a message from the mys-
terious man — dear, dear Bertalda!"



CHAPTER XI.
bertalda's birthday.
The guests were now assembled at table; Ber-
talda sat at the top, adorned with flowers like the
goddess of spring, and flashing with jewels, the gifts
of many friends and relations. Undine and Huld-
brand were on either side of her. When the sumpt-
uous meal was ended, and the dessert served, the
doors were opened — according to the good old
German custom — to let the common people look in
and have their share in the gayety of the rich. The
attendants offered wine and cake to the assembled
crowd. Huldbrand and Bertalda were eagerly watch-
ing for the promised disclosure, and both kept their
eyes fixed upon Undine. But she was still silent;
her cheeks dimpled occasionally with a bright, con-
scious smile. Those that knew what she was about
to do, could perceive that her interesting secret was
ready to burst from her lips, but that she was play-
fully determined to keep it in, as children sometimes
will save their daintiest morsels for the last. Her
silent glee communicated itself to the other two,
who watched impatiently for the happy news that
was about to gladden their *hearts. Some of the


UNDINE.
65
company now asked Undine for a song. She seemed
to be prepared with one, and sent for her lute, to
which she sang as follows : —
The sun gilds the wave,
The flowers are sweet,
And the ocean doth lave
The grass at our feet!
What lies on the earth
So blooming and gay?
Doth a blossom peep forth
And greet the new day?
Ah, 't is a fair child!
She sports with the flowers,
So gladsome and mild,
Through the warm sunny hours.
O sweet one, who brought thee?
From far distant shore
Old Ocean he caught thee,
And many a league bore.
Poor babe, all in vain
Thou dost put forth thy hand;
None clasp it again,
'T is a bleak foreign land:
The flowers bloom brightly,
And soft breathes the air.
But all pass thee lightly:
Thy mother is far!
Thy life scarce begun,
Thy smiles fresh from heaven,
Thy best treasure is gone,
To another ' t is given!
5


66
UNDINE.
A gallant charger treads the dell,
His noble rider pities thee:
He takes thee home, he tends thee well,
And cares for thee right gen'rously.
Well thou becom'st thy station high,
And bloom'st the fairest in the land;
And yet, alas! the purest joy
Is left on thine own distant strand.
Undine put down her lute with a melancholy smile;
and the eyes of the Duke and Duchess filled with
tears: "So it was when I found you, my poor inno-
cent orphan!" said the Duke with great emotion;
"as the fair singer said, your best treasure was gone,
and we have been unable to supply its place."
"Now let us think of the poor parents," said Un-
dine; and she struck the chords and sang : —
i.
Mother roves from room to room
Seeking rest, she knows not how;
The house is silent as the tomb,
And who is there to bless her now?
n.
Silent house! Oh words of sorrow!
Where is now her darling child?
She who should have cheered the morrow,
And the evening hours beguiled?
in.
The buds are swelling on the tree,
The sun returns when night is o'er;
But, mother, ne'er comes joy to thee,
Thy child shall bless thine eyes no more!


UNDINE. 67
IV.
And when the evening breezes blow,
And father seeks his own fireside,
He smiles, forgetful of his woe,
But ah ! his tears that smile shall hide.
v.
Father knows that in his home
Deathlike stillness dwells for aye;
The voice of mirth no more shall come,
And mother sighs the livelong day.
"O Undine, for God's sake, where are my par-
ents ?" cried Bertalda, weeping. "Surely you know,
you have discovered it, most wonderful woman; else
how could you have stirred my inmost heart as you
have done? They are perhaps even now in the
room — can it be ?" — and her eyes glanced over
the gay assembly, and fixed upon a reigning Princess
who sat next to the Duke. But Undine bent for-
ward to the door, her eyes overflowing with the hap-
piest tears. "Where are they, the poor anxious
parents?" said she; and the old Fisherman and
his wife came out from the crowd of by-standers.
They turned an inquiring eye upon Undine, and then
upon the handsome lady whom they were to call
daughter. "There she is," faltered the delighted
Undine, and the aged couple caught their long-lost
child in their arms, thanking God, and weeping
aloud.
Affrighted and enraged, Bertalda shrank from
their embrace. It was more than her proud spirit
could bear, to be thus degraded; at a moment, too,


68
UNDINE.
when she was fully expecting an increase of splen-
dor, and fancy was showering pearls and diadems
upon her head. She suspected that her rival had
contrived this, on purpose to mortjfy her before
Huldbrand and all the world. She reviled both Un-
dine and the old people ; the hateful words, " Treach-
erous creature! and bribed wretches!" burst from
her lips. The old woman said in a half whisper,
"Dear me, she has grown up a wicked woman; and
yet my heart tells me she is my own child." The
Fisherman had clasped his hands, and was praying
silently that this girl might not prove to be theirs
indeed. Undine, pale as death, looked from Bertalda
to the parents, from the parents to Bertalda, and
could not recover the rude shock she had sustained,
at being plunged from all her happy dreams into a
state of fear and misery, such as she had never
known before.
"Have you a soul? Have you indeed a soul, Ber-
talda?" she exclaimed once or twice, trying to re-
call her angry friend to reason, from what she took
for a fit of madness, or a kind of nightmare. But
Bertalda only stormed the louder; the repulsed par-
ents wailed piteously, and the company began to dis-
pute angrily and to side with one or the other; when
Undine stepped forward, and asked with so much
earnest gentleness to be listened to in her husband's
house, that all was hushed in a moment. She took
the place which Bertalda had left, at the head of the
table, and as she stood there in modest dignity, the


UNDINE.
69
eyes of all turned toward her, and she said: "You all
that cast such angry looks at each other, and so cru-
elly spoil the joy of my poor feast, alas! I little
knew what yoiy foolish angry passions were, and I
think I never shall understand you. What I had
hoped would do so much good has led to all this;
but that is not my fault, it is your own doing, believe
me; I have little more to say, but one thing you
must hear: I have told no falsehood. Proofs I have
none to give, beyond my word, but I will swear to
the truth of it. I heard it from him who decoyed
Bertalda from her parents into the water, and then
laid her down in the meadow where the Duke was
to pass."
"She is a sorceress," cried Bertalda, "a witch
who has dealings with evil spirits! she has acknowl-
edged it." ,
"I have not," said Undine, with a heaven of inno-
cence and guilelessness in her eyes. "Nor am I a
witch — only look at me!"
"Then she lies," cried Bertalda, " and she dares
not assert that I was born of these mean people.
My noble .parents, I beseech you take me out of this
room, and this town, where they are leagued together
to insult me."
But the venerable Duke stood still, and his lady
said, " We must first sift this matter to the bottom.
Nothing shall make me leave the room till my
doubts are satisfied."
Then the old woman came up, made a deep obei-


70
UNDINE.
sance to the Duchess, and said, " You give me cour-
age to speak, my noble, worthy lady. I must tell
you, that if this ungodly young woman is my daugh-
ter, I shall know her by a violet mark between her
shoulders, and another on the left instep. If she
would but come with me into another room " —
"I will not uncover myself before that country-
woman," said Bertalda, proudly turning away.
"But before me, you will," rejoined the Duchess
gravely. "You shall go with me into that room,
young woman, and the good dame will accompany
us." They withdrew together, leaving the party in
silent suspense. In a few minutes they came back;
Bertalda was deadly pale, and the Duchess said,
"Truth is truth, and I am bound to declare that our
Lady Hostess has told us perfectly right. Bertalda
is the Fisherman's daughter; more than that, it con-
cerns nobody to know." And the princely pair de-
parted, taking with them their adopted child, and
followed (upon a sign from the Duke) by the Fish-
erman and his wife. ■ The rest of the assembly broke
up, in silence or with secret murmurs, and Undine
sank into Huldbrand's arms, weeping bitterly.



CHAPTER XII.
HOW THEY LEFT THE IMPERIAL CITY.
There was certainly much to displease the Lord
of Bingstetten in the events of this day; yet he
could not look back upon them, without feeling
proud of the guileless truth and the generosity of
heart shown by his lovely wife. "If indeed her soul
was my gift," thought he, "it is nevertheless much
better than my own ; " and he devoted himself to the
task of soothing her grief, and determined he would
take her away the next morning from a spot now so
full of bitter recollections.
They were mistaken, however, in thinking that
she had lost in the eyes of the world by this adven-
ture. So prepared were the minds of the people to
find something mysterious in her, that her strange
discovery of Bertalda's origin scarcely surprised
them; while, on the other hand, every one that
heard of Bertalda's history and of her passionate
behavior, was moved with indignation. Of this, the
Knight and Undine were not aware; nor would it
have given them any comfort, for she was still as
jealous of Bertalda's good name as of her own.


72 UNDINE.
Upon the whole, they had no greater wish than to
leave the town without delay.
At daybreak next morning, Undine's chariot was
in readiness at the door, and the steeds of Huld-
brand and of his squires stood around it, pawing
the ground with impatience. As the Knight led his
fair bride to the door, a fishing girl accosted them.
"We want no fish," said Huldbrand; "we are just
going away." The girl began to sob bitterly, and
they then recognized her as Bertalda. They imme-
diately turned back into the house with her; and
she said that the Duke and Duchess had been so
incensed- at her violence the day before, as to with-
draw their protection from her, though not without
giving her a handsome allowance. The Fisherman
too had received a liberal gift, and had departed that
evening with his wife, to return to the promontory.
"I would have gone with them," she continued,
"but the old Fisherman, whom they call my
father" —
"And so he is, Bertalda," interrupted Undine.
"He is your father. For the man you saw at the
fountain told me how it is. He was trying to per-
suade me that I had better not take you to Ringstet-
ten, and he let drop the secret."
"Well then," said Bertalda, "my father — if so it
must be — my father said, ' You shall not live with
us till you are an altered creature. Take courage,
and come across the haunted forest to us; that will
show that you sincerely wish to belong to your par-





UNDINE.
73
ents. But do not come in your finery; be like what
you are, a fisherman's daughter.' And I will do as
he bids me; for the whole world has forsaken me,
and I have nothing left, but to live and die humbly
in a poor hut, alone with my lowly parents. I do
dread the forest very much. They say it is full of
grim spectres, and I am so timid! But what can I
do? I came here only to implore the Lady of
Ringstetten's pardon for my rude language yester-
day. I have no doubt you meant what you did
kindly, noble Dame; but you little knew what a
trial your words would be to me, and I was so
alarmed and bewildered, that many a hasty, wicked
word escaped my lips. Ah forgive me, forgive me!
I am unhappy enough already. Only consider what
I was yesterday morning, even at the beginning of
your feast, and what I am now."
Her words were lost in a flood of bitter tears, and
Undine, equally affected, fell weeping on her neck.
It was long before her emotion would let her speak:
at length she said, " You shall go to Ringstetten with
us ; all shall be as we had settled it before; only call
me Undine again, and not ' Lady' and' noble Dame.'
You see, we began by being exchanged in our cra-
dles; our lives have been linked from that hour, and
we will try to bind them so closely that no human
power shall sever us. Come with us to Ringstetten,
and all will be well. We will live like sisters there,
trust me for arranging that." Bertalda looked tim-
idly at Huldbrand. The sight of this beautiful, for-


74
UNDINE.
saken maiden affected him; he gave her his hand,
and encouraged her kindly to trust herself to him
and his wife. "As to your parents," said he, "we
will let them know why you do not appear ;" and he
would have said much more concerning the good
old folks, but he observed that Bertalda shuddered
at the mention of them, and therefore dropped the
subject. He gave her his arm, placed first her and
then Undine in the carriage, and rode cheerfully
after them; he urged the drivers on so effectually,
that they very soon found themselves out of sight of
the city, and beyond the reach of sad recollections
— and the two ladies could fully enjoy the beautiful
country through which the road wound along.
After a few days' travelling, they arrived, one
sunny evening, at the Castle of Ringstetten. Its
young lord had much business with his steward and
laborers to occupy him, so that Undine was left
alone with Bertalda. They took a walk on the high
ramparts of the castle, and admired the rich Swabian
landscape, which lay far and wide around them. A
tall man suddenly came up, with a courteous obei-
sance; and Bertalda could not help thinking him
very like the ominous man of the fountain. The
likeness struck her still more, when, upon an impa-
tient and even menacing gesture of Undine's, he
went away with the same hasty step and shake of the
head as before.
"Do not be afraid, dear Bertalda," said Undine;
"the ugly man shall not harm you this time." After


UNDINE.
75
which she told her whole history, beginning from
her birth, and how they had been exchanged in their
earliest childhood. At first her friend looked at her
with serious alarm; she thought that Undine was
possessed by some delirium. But she became con-
vinced it was all true, as she listened to the well-con-
nected narrative, which accounted so well for the
strange events of the last months; besides which,
there is something in genuine truth which finds an
answer in every heart, and can hardly be mistaken.
She was bewildered, when she found herself one of
the actors in a living fairy tale, and as wild a tale as
any she had read. She gazed upon Undine with
reverence; but could not help feeling a chill thrown
over her affection for her; and that evening at sup-
per time, she wondered at the Knight's fond love
and familiarity toward a being, whom she now
looked upon as rather a spirit than a human' crea-
ture.



CHAPTER XIII.
HOW THEY LIVED IN THE CASTLE OF EINGSTETTEN.
As he who relates this tale is moved to the heart
by it, and hopes that it may affect his readers too, he
entreats of them one favor; namely, that they will
bear with him while he passes rapidly over a long
space of time; and be content if he barely touches
upon what happened therein. He knows well that
some would relate in great detail, step by step, how
Huldbrand's heart began to be estranged from Un-
dine, and. drawn toward Bertalda; while she cared
not to disguise from him her ardent love; and how
between them the poor injured wife came to be rath-
er feared than pitied, — and when, he showed her
kindness, a cold shiver would often creep over him,
and send him back to the child of earth, Bertal-
da ; — all this the author knows, might be dwelt
upon; nay, perhaps it ought so to be. But his
heart shrinks from such a task, for he has met with
such passages in real life, and cannot even abide
their shadows in his memory. Perhaps, gentle read-
er, such feelings are known to thee also, for they are
the common lot of mortal man. Well is thee if
thou hast felt, not inflicted, these pangs; in these


UNDINE.
77
cases it is more blessed to receive than to give. As
such recollections wake up from their cells, they will
but cast a soft shade over the past; and it may be
the thought of thy withered blossoms, once so
fondly loved, brings a gentle tear down thy cheek.
Enough of this: we will not go on to pierce our
hearts with a thousand separate arrows, but content
ourselves with saying, that so it happened in the
present instance.
Poor Undine drooped day by day, and the others
were neither of them happy; Bertalda especially
was uneasy, and ready to suspect the injured wife,
whenever she fancied herself slighted by Huld-
brand; meantime she had gradually assumed the
command in the house, and the deluded Huldbrand
supported her openly. Undine looked on, in meek
resignation. To increase the discomfort of their
lives, there was no end to the mysterious signts and
sounds that haunted Huldbrand and Bertalda in the
vaulted galleries of the castle; such as had never
been heard of before. The long white man, too well
known to him as Uncle Kiihleborn, and to her as
the spirit of the fountain, often showed his threaten-
ing countenance to both; but chiefly to Bertalda,
who had more than once been made ill by the fright,
and thought seriously of leaving the castle. But
her love for Huldbrand detained her, and she quiet-
ed her conscience by thinking, that it had never
come to a declaration of love between them; and,
besides, she would not have known which way to
r


78
UNDINE.
turn. After receiving the Lord of Ringstetten's
message, that Bertalda was with them, the old Fish-
erman had traced a few lines, scarcely legible, from
infirmity and long disuse, saying, " I am now a poor
old widower; for my dear good wife is dead. But,
lonely as I am by my fireside, I had rather Bertalda
stayed away than came here. Provided she does not
harm my dear Undine! My curse be upon her if
she does." Bertalda scattered these last words to
the winds, but treasured up her father's command
that she should not join him: as is the way with us
selfish beings.
One day, when Huldbrand had just ridden out,
Undine sent for her servants and desired them to
fetch a large stone and carefully to stop up the
mouth of the magnificent fountain, which played in
the centre of the court. The men objected, that
they must then always go down the valley to a
great distance for water. Undine smiled mournfully.
"It grieves me to add to your burdens, my good
friends," said she, "I had rather go and fill my
pitcher myself; but this fountain must be sealed up.
Trust me, nothing else will do, and it is our only
way of escaping a much worse evil."
The servants rejoiced at any opportunity of
pleasing their gentle mistress; not a word more was
said, and they lifted the huge stone. They had
raised it, and were about to let it down on the mouth
of the spring, when Bertalda ran up, calling out to
them to stop: the water of this fountain was the


UNDINE.
79
best for her complexion, and she never would con-
sent to its being stopped. But Undine, instead of
yielding as usual, kept firmly, though gently, to her
resolution; she said that it behooved her, as mistress
of the house, to order all such matters as appeared
best to her, and none but her lord and husband
should call her to account. "Look, oh look !" cried
Bertalda, eagerly and angrily, " how the poor bright
water curls and writhes, because you would deprive
it of every gleam of sunshine, and of the cheerful
faces of men, whose mirror it was created to be!"
In truth, the spring did writhe and bubble up won-
derfully, just as if some one were trying to force his
way through; but Undine pressed them the more to
dispatch the work. Nor was there much need to
repeat her commands. The household people were
too glad at once to obey their gentle lady, and to
mortify the pride of Bertalda, in spite of whose
threats and wrath, the stone was soon firmly fast-
ened down on the mouth of the spring. Undine
bent over it thoughtfully, and wrote on its surface
with her delicate fingers. Something very hard and
sharp must have been hidden in her hand; for
when she walked away, and the others came up,
they found all manner of strange characters on the
stone, none of which were there before.
When the Knight came home that evening, Ber-
talda received him with tears and complaints of
Undine. He looked sternly at his poor wife, who
mournfully cast down her eyes, saying, however,


80
UNDINE.
with firmness, "My lord and husband would not
chide the meanest of his vassals, without giving him
a hearing, much less his wedded wife." —" Speak,
then ; what was your reason for this strange proceed-
ing?" said the Knight with a frown. "I would
rather tell it you quite alone!" sighed Undine.
"You can say it just as well in Bertalda's presence,"
replied he. "Yes, if thou requirest it," said Undine,
"but require it not." She looked so humble, and so
submissive in her touching beauty, that the Knight's
heart was melted, as by a sunbeam from happier
days. He took her affectionately by the hand, and
led her to his own room, where she spoke to him as
follows.
"You know that wicked Uncle Kiihleborn, my
dearest lord, and have often been provoked at meet-
ing him about the castle. Bertalda, too, has been
often terrified by him. No wonder; he is soulless,
shallow, and unthinking as a mirror, in whom no feel-
ing can pierce the surface. He has two or three
times seen that you were displeased with me, that I
in my childishness could not help weeping, and that
Bertalda might chance to laugh at the same mo-
ment. And upon this he builds all manner of unjust
suspicions, and interferes, unasked, in our concerns.
What is the use of my reproaching him, or repuls-
ing him with angry words? He believes nothing
that I say. A poor cold life is his! How should
he know, that the sorrows and the joys of love are
so sweetly alike, so closely linked, that it is not in


DNDINE.
81
human power to part them. When a tear gushes
out, a smile lies beneath; and a smile will draw the
tears from their secret cells."
She smiled through her tears in Huldbrand's face,
and a warm ray of his former love shot through his
heart. She perceived this, pressed closer -to him,
and with a few tears of joy she went on.
"As I found it impossible to get rid of our tor-
mentor by words, I had nothing for it, but to shut
the door against him. And his only access to us
was that fountain. He has quarreled with the other
fountain spirits in the surrounding valleys, and it is
much lower down the Danube, below the junction
of some of his friends with the great river, that his
power begins again. Therefore I stopped the mouth
of our fountain, and inscribed the stone with charac-
ters which cripple the might of my restless uncle;
so that he can no longer cross your path, or mine, or
Bertalda's. Men can indeed lift the stone off as
easily as ever; the inscription has no power over
them. So you are free to comply with Bertalda's
wish; but indeed, she little knows what she asks.
Against her the wild Kiihleborn has a most particu-
lar spite, and if some of his forebodings were to
come true, (as they might, without her intending
any harm,) O, dearest, even thou wert not free from
danger!"
Hiildbrand deeply felt the generosity of his noble-
minded wife, in so zealously shutting out her for-
midable protector, even when reviled by Bertalda


82
UNDINE.
for so doing. He clasped her fondly in his arms,
and said with much emotion, "The stone shall re-
main; and every thing shall be done as thou wish-
est, now and hereafter, my sweetest Undine."
Scarce could she trust these words of love, after
so dreary an estrangement; she returned his caresses
with joyful but timid gratitude, and at length said,
"My own dear love, as you are so exceedingly kind
to me to-day, may I ask you to promise one thing?
Herein you are like the summer: is he not most
glorious when he decks his brows with thunders,
and frowns upon us from his throne of clouds? So
it is when your eyes flash lightning; it becomes you
well, although in my weakness I may often shed a
tear at it. Only, — if you would promise to refrain
from it when we are sailing, or even near any water.
For there, you see, my relations have a right to con-
trol me. They might relentlessly tear me from you
in their wrath, fancying that there is an insult of-
fered to one of their race; and I should be doomed
to spend the rest of my life in the crystal palaces
below, without ever coming to you; or if they did
send me up again, — oh Heaven, that would be far
worse! No, no, my best beloved; you will not let it
come to that, if you love your poor Undine."
He solemnly promised to do as she asked him,
and they returned to the saloon, quite restored to
comfort and peace. They met Bertalda, followed by
a few laborers whom she had sent for, and she said
in a tone of bitterness that had grown common with


UNDINE.
83
her of late, "So, now your private consultation is
over, and we may have the stone taken up. Make
haste, you people, and do it for me." But Huld-
brand, incensed at her arrogance, said shortly and
decidedly, "The stone shall not be touched," and he
then reproved Bertalda for her rudeness to his wife;
upon which the laborers walked off, exulting se-
cretly, while Bertalda hurried away to her chamber,
pale and disturbed.
The hour of supper came, and they waited in vain
for Bertalda. A message was sent to her; the ser-
vants found her room empty, and brought back only
a sealed letter directed to the Knight. He opened
it with trepidation and read, " I feel with shame that
I am only a fisherman's daughter. Having forgotten
it a moment, I will expiate my crime in the wretched
hut of my parents. Live happy with your beautiful
wife!"
Undine was sincerely grieved; she entreated
Huldbrand to pursue their friend at once, and bring
her back with him. Alas! there was little need of
entreaty. His passion for Bertalda returned with
fresh violence; he searched the castle all over, ask-
ing every one if they could tell him in what direc-
tion the fair one had fled. He could discover noth-
ing; and now he had mounted his horse in the
. court, and stood ready to set forth, and try the route
by which he had brought Bertalda to the castle.
A peasant boy just then came up, saying that he had
met the lady riding toward the Black Valley. Like


84
UNDINE.
a shot the Knight darted through the gate, and took
that direction, without heeding Undine's anxious
cries from a window: "To the Black Valley? oh,
not there! Huldbrand, not there! Or take' me with
you, for God's sake!" Finding it vain to cry, she
had her white palfrey saddled in all haste, and gal-
loped after her husband, without allowing any one
to attend her.




86
UNDINE.
boughs, on the slope of the mountain; he took it for
Bertalda's robe and made for it. But the horse
started back, and reared so obstinately that Huld-
brand, impatient of delay, and having already found
him difficult to manage among the brambles of the
thicket, dismounted, and fastened the foaming steed
to a tree; he then felt his way through the bushes
on foot. The boughs splashed his head and cheeks
roughly with cold wet dew; far off, he heard the
growl of thunder beyond the mountains, and the
whole strange scene had such an effect upon him,
that he became afraid of approaching the white fig-
ure, which he now saw lying on the ground at a short
distance. And yet he could distinguish it to be a
woman, dressed in long white garments like Bertal-
da's, asleep or in a swoon. He came close to her,
made the boughs rustle, and his sword ring, — but
she stirred not. "Bertalda !" cried he; first gently,
then louder and louder, — in vain. When at length
he shouted the beloved name with the whole
strength of his lungs, a faint mocking echo returned
it from the cavities of the rocks — " Bertalda!" but
the sleeper awoke not. He bent over her; but the
gloom of the valley and the shades of night pre-
vented his discerning her features. At length,
though kept back by some boding fears, he knelt
down by her on the earth, and just then a flash of
lightning lighted up the valley. He saw a hideous
distorted face close to his own, and heard a hollow
voice say, " Give me a kiss, thou sweet shepherd!"


UNDINE.
87
With a cry of horror Huldbrand started up, and the
monster after him. "Go home !" it cried, " the bad
spirits are abroad — go home! or I have you !" and
its long white arm nearly grasped him. "Spiteful
Kiihleborn," cried the Knight, taking courage,
"what matters it, I know thee, foul spirit! There is
a kiss for thee!" And he raised his sword furiously
against the figure. But it dissolved, and a drench-
ing shower made it sufficiently clear to the Knight
what enemy he had encountered. "He would scare
me away from Bertalda," said he aloud to himself;
"he thinks he can subdue me by his absurd tricks,
and make me leave the poor terrified maiden in his
power, that he may wreak his vengeance upon her.
But that he never shall — wretched goblin! What
power lies in a human breast when steeled by firm
resolve, the contemptible juggler has yet to learn."
And he felt the truth of his own words, and seemed
to have nerved himself afresh by them. He thought,
too, that fortune now began to aid him, for before he
had got back to his horse again, he distinctly heard
the piteous voice of Bertalda as if near at hand,
borne toward him on the winds as their howling
mingled with the thunder. Eagerly did he push on
in that direction, and he found the trembling damsel,
who was just attempting to climb the mountain's
side, in order, at any risk, to get out of these awful
shades.
He met her affectionately, and however proudly
she might before have determined to hold out, she


UNDINE.
89
to curb his raging steed, who was now beginning to
start and plunge worse than ever: the Knight con-
trived to keep him at somg distance from the ex-
hausted maiden, so as to save her the terror of see-
ing him near her. But no sooner had he withdrawn
himself and the wild animal a few steps, than she
began to call him back in the most piteous manner,
thinking he was indeed going to desert her in this
horrible wilderness. He was quite at a loss what to
do: gladly would he have let the horse gallop away
in the darkness and expend his wild fury, but that
he feared he might rush down upon the very spot
where Bertalda lay.
In this extremity of distress, it gave him unspeak-
able comfort to descry a wagon slowly descending
the stony road behind him. He called out for help:
a man's voice replied telling him to have patience,
but promising to come to his aid; soon two white
horses became visible through the thicket, and next
the white smock-frock of the wagoner, and a large
sheet of white linen that covered his goods inside.
"Ho, stop !" cried the man, and the obedient horses
stood still. "I see well enough," said he, " what ails
the beast When first I came through these parts
my horses were just as troublesome; because there
is a wicked water-sprite living hard by, who takes
delight in making them play tricks. But I know a
charm for this; if you will give me leave to whisper
it in yoUr horse's ear, you will see him as quiet as
mine yonder in a moment." —" Try your charm, if


UNDINE.
91
only replied to the former. Upon this, the wagoner
cried out in a voice that rent the air, "Now my
horses, up with you; show us what you are made of,
my fine fellows!" The Knight put out his head and
saw the horses treading or rather swimming through
the foaming waters, while the wheels whirled loudly
and rapidly like those of a water-mill, and the wag-
oner was standing upon the top of his wagon,
overlooking the. floods. "Why, what road is this?
It will take us into the middle of the stream," cried
Huldbrand. "No, sir," cried the driver laughing;
"it is just the other way. The stream is come into
the middle of the road. Look round, and see how
it is all flooded."
In fact, the whole valley was now heaving with
waves, that had swollen rapidly to a great height.
"This must be Kiihleborn, the wicked sprite, trying
to drown us!" cried the Knight. "Have you no
charm to keep him off, friend?" — "I do know of
one," said the driver," but I can't and won't make use
of it, till you know who I am." — " Is this a time for
riddles?" shouted the Knight; " the flood is rising
every moment, and what care I to know who you
are ?" — " It rather concerns you, however, to know."
said the driver, "for I am Kiihleborn." And he
grinned hideously into the wagon — which was now
a wagon no longer, nor were the horses horses; but
all dissolved into foaming waves; the wagoner him-
self shot up into a giant waterspout, bore down the
struggling horse into the flood, and, towering over


92
UNDINE.
the heads of the hapless pair, till he had swelled
into a watery mountain, he would have swallowed
them up the next moment.
But now the sweet voice of Undine was heard
above the wild uproar; the moon shone out between
the clouds, and at the same instant Undine came
into sight, upon the high grounds above them. She
addressed Kiihleborn in a commanding tone, the
huge wave laid itself down, muttering and murmur-
ing; the waters rippled gently away in the moon's
soft light, and Undine alighted like a white dove
from her airy height, and led them to a soft green
spot on the hill-side, where she refreshed their jaded
spirits with choice food. She then helped Bertalda
to mount her own white palfrey, and at length they
all three reached the Castle of Ringstetten in safety.



CHAPTER XV.
THE TRIP TO VIENNA.
For some time after this adventure they led a
quiet and peaceful life in the castle. The Knight
was deeply touched by his wife's angelic goodness,
so signally displayed by her pursuing and saving
them in the Black Valley, where their lives were
threatened by Kiihleborn. Undine herself was hap-
py in the peace of an approving conscience; besides
that, many a gleam of hope now brightened her
path, as her husband's love and confidence seemed
to revive; Bertalda meanwhile was grateful, modest,
and timid, without claiming any merit for being so.
If either of her companions alluded to the sealing
up of the fountain, or the adventures in the Black
Valley, she would implore them to spare her on
those subjects, because she could not think of the
fountain without a blush, nor the valley without a
shudder. She was therefore told nothing further;
indeed, what would have been the use of enlighten-
ing her? Nothing could add to the peace and hap-
piness which had taken up their abode in the Castle
of Ringstetten; they enjoyed the present in full se-


94
UNDINE.
curity, and the future lay before them, all blooming
with fair fruits and flowers.
The winter had gone by without any interruption
to their social comfort; and spring, with her young
green shoots and bright blue skies, began to smile
upon men; their hearts felt light, like the young
season, and from its returning birds of passage, they
caught a fancy to travel. One day, as they were
walking together near the sources of the Danube,
Huldbrand fell into talk about the glories of that
noble river, how proudly he flowed on, through fruit-
ful lands, to the spot where the majestic city of
Vienna crowned his banks, and how every mile of
his course was marked by fresh grandeur and beauty.
"How delightful it would be to follow his course
down to Vienna!" cried Bertalda; but instantly
relapsing into her timid, chastened manner, she
blushed and was silent. This touched Undine, and
in her eagerness to give her friend pleasure, she
said: " And why should we not take the trip?"
Bertalda jumped for joy, and their iancy began to
paint this pleasant recreation in the brightest colors.
Huldbrand encouraged them cheerfully, but whis-
pered once to Undine: "But, should not we get
within Kiihleborn's power again, down there ?" —
"Let him come," said she, laughing; " I shall be with
you, and in my presence he durst not attempt any
mischief."
So the only possible objection seemed removed,
and they prepared for departure, and were soon sail-


UNDINE.
95
ing along, full of spirit and of gay hopes. But, O
Man! it is not for thee to wonder when the course
of events diners widely from the paintings of thy
fancy. The treacherous foe, that lures us to our
ruin, lulls his victim to rest with sweet music and
golden dreams. Our guardian angel, on the con-
trary, wilj often rouse us by a sharp and awakening
blow.
The first days they spent on the Danube were
days of extraordinary enjoyment. The further they
floated down the proud stream the nobler and fairer
grew the prospect." But, just as they had reached a
most lovely district, the first sight of which had
promised them great delight, the unruly Kiihleborn
began openly to give signs of his presence and pow-
er. At first they were only sportive tricks, because,
whenever he ruffled the stream and raised the wind,
Undine repressed him by a word or two, and made
him subside at once; but his attempts soon began
again, and again Undine was obliged to warn him
off; so that the pleasure of the little party was griev-
ously disturbed. To make things worse, the water-
men would mutter many a dark surmise into each
other's ears, and cast strange looks at the three
gentlefolks, whose very servants began to feel sus-
picion, and to show distrust of their lord. Huld-
brand said to himself more than once, " This comes
of uniting with other than one's like: a son of earth
may not marry a wondrous maid of ocean." To
justify himself (as we all love to do) he would add,


UNDINE.
97
and would have burst into loud imprecations, had
not Undine whispered in the most beseeching man-
ner, " For God's sake, my own lord, be patient now!
remember we are on the water." The Knight kept
down his anger, and soon sank into thought. Pres-
ently Undine whispered to him: "My love, had not
we better give up the foolish journey, and go home
to Ringstetten in comfort?" But Huldbrand mut-
tered angrily, " Then I am to be kept a prisoner in
my own castle? and even there I may not breathe
freely unless the fountain is sealed up? Would to
Heaven the absurd connection " — But Undine
pressed her soft hand gently upon his lips. And he
held his peace, and mused upon all she had pre-
viously told him.
In the mean time, Bertalda had yielded herself
up to many and strange reflections. She knew some-
thing of Undine's origin, but not all! and Ktihle-
born in particular was only a fearful but vague im-
age in her mind; she had not even once heard his
name. And as she pondered these wonderful sub-
jects, she half unconsciously took off a golden
necklace which Huldbrand had bought for her of a
travelling jeweller a few days before; she held it
close to the surface of the river playing with It, and
dreamily watching the golden gleam that it shed on
the glassy water. Suddenly a large hand came up
out of the Danube, snatched the necklace, and
ducked under with it. Bertalda screamed aloud,
and was answered by a laugh of scorn from the
7


98
UNDINE.
depths below. And now the Knight could contain
himself no longer. Starting up, he gave a loose to
his fury, loading with imprecations those who chose
to break into his family and private life, and chal-
lenging them — were they goblins or sirens — to
meet his good sword. Bertalda continued to weep
over the loss of her beloved jewel, and her tears
were as oil to the flames of his wrath; while Undine
kept her hand dipped into the water, with a ceaseless
low murmur, only once or twice interrupting her
mysterious whispers, to say to her husband in tones
of entreaty, " Dearest love, speak not roughly to me
here; say whatever you will, only spare me here:
you know why!" and he still restrained his tongue
(which stammered with passion) from saying a word
directly against her. She soon drew her hand from
under the water, bringing up a beautiful coral neck-
lace whose glitter dazzled them all. "Take it," said
she, offering it kindly to Bertalda: "I have sent for
this, instead of the one you lost; do not grieve any
more, my poor child." But Huldbrand darted for-
ward, snatched the shining gift from Undine's hand,
hurled it again into the water, and roared furiously,
"So you still have intercourse with them? In the
name'of sorcery, go back to them with all your bau-
bles, and leave us men in peace, witch as you are!"
With eyes aghast, yet streaming with tears, poor
Undine gazed at him, still holding out the hand
which had so lovingly presented to Bertalda the
bright jewel. Then she wept more and more, like








UNDINE.
101
secretly hoped that he might end by altogether dis-
solving in tears: and are there not many, whose
minds have been visited by the same painfully pleas-
ing thought, at some season of great sorrow? Ber-
talda wept with him, and they lived quietly together
at Ringstetten a long while, cherishing the memory
of Undine, and seeming to have forgotten their own
previous attachment. Moreover, the gentle Undine
often appeared to Hulbrand in his dreams; she
would caress him meekly and fondly, and depart
again with tearful resignation, so that when he
awoke, he doubted whose tears they were that be-
dewed his face — were they her's, or only his own?
But as time went on these visions became less
frequent, and the Knight's grief milder; still he
might perhaps have spent the rest of his days con-
tentedly, devoting himself to the memory of Undine,
and keeping it alive by talking of her, had not the
old Fisherman unexpectedly made his appearance,
and laid his serious commands upon Bertalda, his
daughter, to return home with him. The news of
Undine's disappearance had reached him, and he
would no longer suffer Bertalda to remain in the
castle alone with its lord. "I do not ask whether
my daughter cares for me or not," said he; "her
character is at stake, and where that is the case,
nothing else is worth considering."
This summons from the old man, and the pros-
pect of utter loneliness amid the halls and long gal-
leries of the castle after Bertalda's departure, revived


102
UNDINE.
in Huldbrand's heart the feeling that had lain dor-
mant, and as it were buried under his mourning for
Undine, namely, his love for the fair Bertalda. The
Fisherman had many objections to their marriage;
Undine had been very dear to the old man, and he
thought it hardly certain yet that his lost darling was
really dead. But, if her corpse were indeed lying
stiff and cold in the bed of the Danube, or floating
down its stream to the distant ocean, then Bertalda
ought to reproach herself for her death, and it ill
became her to take the place of her poor victim.
However, the Fisherman was very fond of Huldbrand
also; the entreaties of his daughter, who was now
grown much more gentle and submissive, had their
effect, and it seems that he did yield his consent at
last; for he remained peaceably at the castle, and an
express was sent for Father Heilmann, who in ear-
lier, happier days had blessed Undine's and Huld-
brand's union, that he might officiate at the Knight's
second marriage.
No sooner had the holy man read the Lord of
Ringstetten's letter than he set forth on his way
thither, with far greater speed than the messenger
had used to reach him. If his straining haste took
away his breath, or he felt his aged limbs ache with
fatigue, he would say to himself: "I may be in time
to prevent a wicked deed; sink not till thou hast
reached the goal, my withered frame!" And so he
exerted himself afresh, and pushed on, without flag-
ging or halting, till late one evening he entered the
shady court of Ringstetten.


(JNDINE.
103
The lovers were sitting hand in hand under a tree,
with the thoughtful old man near them; as soon as
they saw Father Heilmann, they rose eagerly and
advanced to meet him. But he, scarcely noticing
their civilities, begged the Knight to come with him
into the castle. As he stared at this request, and
hesitated to comply, the pious old Priest said:
"Why, indeed, should I speak to you alone, my
Lord of Ringstetten? What I have to say equally
concerns the Fisherman and Bertalda; and as they
must sooner or later know it, it had better be said
now. How can you be certain, Lord Huldbrand,
that your own wife is indeed dead? For myself, I
can hardly think so. I will not venture to speak of
things relating to her wondrous nature; in truth, I
have no clear knowledge about it. But a godly and
faithful wife she proved herself, beyond all about.
And these fourteen nights has she come to my bed-
side in dreams, wringing her poor hands in anguish,
and sighing out, "Oh stop him, dear father! I am
yet alive! Oh save his life! Oh save his soul!" I
understood not the meaning of the vision till your
messenger came; and I have now hastened hither,
not to join but to part those hands, which may not
be united in holy wedlock. Part from her, Huld-
brand! Part from him, Bertalda! He belongs to
another; see you not how his cheek turns pale at
the thought of his departed wife? Those are not
the looks of a bridegroom, and the spirit tells me
this. If thou leavest him not now, there is joy for


104
UNDINK.
thee no more." They all three felt at the bottom of
their hearts that Father Heilraann's words were true;
but they would not yield to them. Even the old
Fisherman was so blinded, as to think that what had
been settled between them for so many days, could
not now be relinquished. So they resisted the
Priest's warnings, and urged the fulfillment of their
wishes with headlong, gloomy determination, till
Father Heilraann departed with a melancholy shake
of the head, without accepting even for one night
their proffered hospitalities, or tasting any of the
refreshments they set before him. But Huldbrand
persuaded himself that the old Priest was a weak
dotard; and early next morning he sent to a monk
from the nearest cloister, who readily promised to
come and marry them in a few days.



CHAPTER XVII.
THE KNIGHT'S DREAM.
The morning twilight was beginning to dawn, and
the Knight lay half-awake on his couch. When-
ever he dropped asleep he was scared by mysterious
terrors, and started up as if sleep were peopled by
phantoms. If he woke up in earnest, he felt himself
fanned all around by what seemed like swans' wings,
and soothed by watery airs, which lulled him back
again into the half-unconscious, twilight state. At
length he did fall asleep and fancied himself lifted
by swans on their soft wings, and carried far away
over lands and seas, all to the sound of their sweet-
est melody. "Swans singing! swans singing!"
thought he continually; is not that the strain of
Death?" Presently he found himself hovering
above a vast sea. A swan warbled in his ear that it
was the Mediterranean; and as he looked down into
the deep it became like clear crystal, transparent to
the bottom. This rejoiced him much, for he could
see Undine sitting in a brilliant hall of crystal.
She was shedding tears, indeed, and looked sadly
changed since the happy times which they had spent
together at Ringstetten; happiest at first, but happy


106
UNDINE.
also a short time since, just before the fatal sail on
the Danube. The contrast struck Huldbrand deep-
ly; but Undine did not seem to be aware of his
presence. Kiihleborn soon came up to her, and be-
gan rating her for weeping. She composed herself,
and looked at him with a firmness and dignity, be-
fore which he almost quailed. "Though I am con-
demned to live under these deep waters," said she,
"I have brought my soul with me; therefore my
tears cannot be understood by thee. But to me
they are blessings, like every thing that belongs to a
loving soul." He shook his head incredulously, and
said, after a pause: "Nevertheless, niece, you are
still subject to the laws of our element; and you
know you must execute sentence of death upon him
as soon as he marries again, and breaks faith with
you." — " To this hour he is a widower," said Undine,
"and loves and mourns me truly." — " Ah, but he
will be a bridegroom soon," said Kiihleborn with a
sneer; " wait a couple of days only, and the marriage
blessing will have been given, and you must go up
and put the criminal to death." — "I cannot!" an-
swered the smiling Undine. "I have had the foun-
tain sealed up, against myself and my whole race."
"But suppose he leaves his castle," said Kiihleborn,
"or forgets himself so far as to let them set the foun-
tain ' free ;' for he thinks mighty little of those mat-
ters." — " And that is why," said Undine, still smiling
through her tears, " that is why his spirit hovers at
this moment over the Mediterranean, and listens to



CHAPTER XVIII.
OF THE KNIGHT HULDBRAND'S SECOND BRIDAL.
Were I to tell you how the wedding-day at Ring-
stetten passed, you might imagine yourself contem-
plating a glittering heap of gay objects, with a black
crape thrown over them, through which the splendid
pageant, instead of delighting the eye, would look
like a mockery of all earthly joys. Not that the
festive meeting was disturbed by any spectral appari-
tions: we have seen that the castle was safe from
any intrusion of the malicious water sprites. But
the Knight, the Fisherman, and all the guests were
haunted by a feeling that the chief person, the soul
of the feast, was missing; and who was she but the
gentle, beloved Undine? As often as they heard a
door open, every eye turned involuntarily toward it,
and when nothing ensued but the entrance of the
steward with some more dishes, or of the cupbearer
with a fresh supply of rich wine, the guests would
look sad and blank, and the sparks of gayety kindled
by the light jest or the cheerful discourse, were
quenched in the damp of melancholy recollections.
The bride was the most thoughtless, and conse-
quently the most cheerful person present; but even


UNDINE.
Ill
it rolled heavily along the pavement with a hollow
sound. But, from the mouth of the spring arose,
slowly and solemnly, what looked like a column of
water; at first they thought so, but presently saw
that it was no waterspout, but the figure of a pale
woman, veiled in white. She was weeping abun-
dantly, wringing her hands and clasping them over
her head, while she proceeded with slow and meas-
ured step toward the castle. The crowd of servants
fell back from the spot; while, pale and aghast, the
bride and her women looked on from the window.
When the figure had arrived just under that win-
dow, she raised her tearful face for a moment, and
Bertalda thought she recognized Undine's pale feat-
ures through the veil. The shadowy form moved
on slowly and reluctantly, like one sent to execution.
Bertalda screamed out that the Knight must be
called; no one durst stir a foot, and the bride her-
self kept silence, frightened at the sound of her own
voice.
While these remained at the window, as if rooted
to the spot, the mysterious visitor had entered the
castle, and passed up the well-known stairs, and
through the familiar rooms, still weeping silently.
Alas! how differently had she trodden those floors
in days gone by!
The Knight had now dismissed his train; half-
undressed, and in a dejected mood, he was standing
near a large mirror, by the light of a dim taper. He
heard the door tapped by a soft, soft touch. It was


112
UNDINE.
thus Undine had been wont to knock, when she
meant to steal upon him playfully. "It is all fancy!"
thought he. "The bridal bed awaits me." — " Yes,
but it is a cold one," said a weeping voice from with-
out; and the mirror then showed him the door open-
ing slowly, and the white form coming in, and closing
the door gently behind her. "They have opened
the mouth of the spring," murmured she ; " and now
I am come, and now must thou die." His beating
heart told him this was indeed true; but he pressed
his hands over his eyes, and said: "Do not bewilder
me with terror in my last moments. If thy veil
conceals the features of a spectre, hide them from
me still, and let me die in peace." — " Alas!" re-
joined the forlorn one, " wilt thou not look upon me
once again? I am fair, as when thou didst woo me
on the promontory." — " Oh, could that be true!"
sighed Huldbrand, "and if I might die in thy em-
brace !"— "Be it so, my dearest," said she. And
she raised her veil, and the heavenly radiance of her
sweet countenance beamed upon him.
Trembling, at once with love and awe, the Knight
approached her; she received him with a tender
embrace; but instead of relaxing her hold, she
pressed him more closely to her heart, and wept as
if her soul would pour itself out. Drowned in her
tears and his own, Huldbrand felt his heart sink
within him, and at last he fell lifeless from the fond
arms of Undine upon his pillow.


UNDINE.
115
many noble gifts. His helmet and coat of arms lay
upon the coffin, about to be lowered into earth with
his mortal remains; for Lord Huldbrand of Ring-
stetten was the last of his race.
The mourners began their dismal procession, and
the sound of their solemn dirge rose into the calm
blue depths of heaven: Heilmann walked first,
bearing on high a crucifix, and the bereaved Ber-
talda followed leaning on her aged father. Suddenly,
amid the crowd of mourners who composed the
widow's train, appeared a snow-white figure, deeply
veiled, with hands uplifted in an attitude of intense
grief. Those that stood near her felt a shudder
creep over them; they shrank back, and thus in-
creased the alarm of those whom the stranger next
approached, so that confusion gradually spread itself
through the whole train. Here and there was to be
found a soldier bold enough to address the figure,
and attempt to drive her away; but she always
eluded their grasp, and the next moment reappeared
among the rest, moving along with slow and solemn
step. At length, when the attendants had all fallen
back, she found herself close behind Bertalda, and
now slackened her pace to the very slowest measure,
so that the widow was not aware of her presence.
No one disturbed her again, while she meekly and
reverently glided on behind her.
So they advanced till they reached the church-
yard, when the whole procession formed a circle
round the open grave. Bertalda then discovered the


116
UNDINE.
unbidden guest, and half-angry, half-frightened, she
forbade her to come near the Knight's resting-place.
But the veiled form gently shook her head, and ex-
tended her hands in humble entreaty; this gesture
reminded Bertalda of poor Undine, when she gave
her the coral necklace on the Danube, and she could
not but weep. Father Heilmann enjoined silence;
for they had begun to heap earth over the grave,
and were about to offer up solemn prayers around it.
Bertalda knelt down in silence, and all her followers
did the same. When they arose, lo, the white form
had vanished ! and on the spot where she had knelt,
a bright silvery brook now gushed out of the turf,
and flowed round the Knight's tomb, till it had al-
most wholly encircled it; then it ran further on, and
emptied itself into a shady pool which bounded one
side of the churchyard. From that time forth, the
villagers are said to have shown travellers this clear
spring, and they still believe it to be the poor for-
saken Undine, who continues thus to twine her arms
round her beloved lord.


PRINCETON U.

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