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UNDINE,
OR,
THE WATER-SPIRIT.
ALSO,
SINTRAM,
AND HIS COMPANIONS.
FROM TBE GERMAN OF
FRIEDRICH DE LA MOTTE FOUQUA.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY JAMES MILLER,
(SU(CESSOR TO C. S. FRANCIS & ao.,)
522 BROADWAY.








UNDINE,
FROM THE GERMAN OF THE
BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUI,
BY
REV. THOMAS TRACY.








BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE.
THE peculiar genius of FouQuL is so fully developed in the two
stories of Undine and Sintram, and that genius is so strictly individual, the reflection of the personal sympathy and culture of the
man, that the author's life might be almost said to be written in
those tales. Critics complain of the want of' comprehensiveness
in Fouqu6's writings. He had an eye, they say, simply for one
thing, a pure Christian Chivalry, and of this he was a dreamer.
Surely, without detracting from the laws of Art, there is room for
one such dreamer in the world, in this low thinking age. The
young, the fair, the good, will be ever content to dream with him.
Fouiqu6 practised the chivalry which he taught. He was twice in
arms in defence of his country in early youth, and again, "with
the Lyre and the Sword," in the war against Napoleon. He was
wounded at Culm, and present at Leipzig. His grandfather was
the intimate of the great Frederic, attained the rank of General,
and fought in the Seven Years' War. The grandson, as may be
seen in the Preface to Sintram, delighted to go further back into
antiquity for the honour of the family name.
Friedrich Baron de la Motte Fouque was born on the 12th February, 1777, and died 23d October, 1842. Before his death he
published a corrected edition of his Select Works, in 12 volumes.
They include his great dramatic poem. The Hero of the North, a
version of the old Nihtelungen-Lied; The Magic Ring and Sintram, kindred tales of Chivalry; "the faultless completeness of
Undine;" Aslauta's Knight, and various dramatic and poetical
productions.








CONTENTS.
UNDINE.
Biographical Notices.                  vii
Preface... Xi
Dedication.xv
Chap. I. How a Knight came to a Fisherman's Cottage.     2
II. In what manner Undine came to the Fisherman..  8
III. How they found Undine again.....   15
IV. Of what had happened to the Knight in the Forest. 20
V. How the Knight lived on the point of land, now encircled by the Lake.......   27
VI. A Wedding......... 32
VII. What further happened on the evening of the Wedding  39
VIII. The day after the WVedding.   -....   43
IX. How the Knight took his young wife with him.. 49
X. How they lived in the City..54
XI. Festival of Bertalda's Name-day..... 58
XII  How they departed from the City...      65
XIII. How they lived at Castle Ringstetten..      70
XIV. How Bertalda returned with the Knight...   78
XV. Passage down the Danube to Vienna.          85
XVI. What further happened to Huldbrand..        92
XVII. The Knight's Dream..97
XVIII. How the Knight Huldbrand solemnized his Marriage  100
XIX. How the Knight Huldbrand was Buried..       105








PREFACE.
THE following translation of UNDINE, one of the minor romances of Frederic, Baron de la Motte FouquC, is from the fourth impression of the
original, that of Berlin, 1826. It was made in the winter of 1835, and has
since received such revision and improvement, as the kindness of literary
friends, in connection with my own wish to do as little injustice to the genius
of the author as } could, has enabled me to give it.
This is no place for discussing the characteristics of Fouqu6, but he has
one excellence of composition so rich and rare, that I may be permitted to
allude to it here: —I mean his harmonious union of fiction and fact, his exquisite blending of the natural and supernatural. So perfect do we find this
union to be, such a melting indeed of both into one, that we hardly know in
which of the two we feel ourselves most at home. We have the true feeling
of real life, embellished by the magic of imagination,-just as the frost-work,
which at times we see almost spiritualizing our groves and shrubberies in
winter, constitutes so much of their peculiar charm;-and this double excellence it was, that led me to select and translate a few specimens of this
writer's Natural and Supernatural.
UNDwnE is a beautifully imaginative tale, a master-piece in this department o" German literature. Witlh a simplicity of the antique cast it
combines the most picturesque wildness, unbroken interest, excellent
principles, a peculiar vein of pleasantry, and even what we seldom look
for in works of this kind, touches of genuine pathos. We are esteemed,
and I presume justly, a less imaginative race than the people of Germany.  Our traditions, local superstitions, early influences, education,
zaabits of thought, and other circumstances of life, are of a more common-place order than theirs. We are not, it may be, less fond of legendary lore, since love of the marvellous seems to be a universal impulse
in our nature; but we seek its enjoyment with the mere calm approval of
fancy, while they welcome it with much of the warmth of good faith.
Still, if "THE WORLD OF REALITY, NOT THE FAIRYLAND OF ROMANCE," be




Xii                           PREFACE.
our maxim, the spirit of truth and tenderness is nowhere wholly extinct:
long as it may lie slumbering in the soul, it is too inseparable a part of our
being ever to die. Is not imagination a germ of immortality?
I am gratified to perceive that many writers allude to this fiction in terms
of warm commendation. Menzel, in his development of German Literature, of which we have lately been favored with an able Translation, speaks
of this and the " Vial-Genie," or "Mandrake," another miniature romance
by the same author, in these words: " Fouque's' Undine' will always continue one of the most delightful creations of German poetry. Also the little
story of the " Mandrake " belongs to the best elaborations of the old national
sagas," or tales of the supernatural, derived from the voice of traditional
superstition. But the most accurate appreciation that I have seen of Undine,
I find among those golden fragments of the richest of minds, the Specimens of the Table Talk of S. T. Coleridge. This is the passage to which
I refer: "' Undine is a most exquisite work. It shows the general want of
any sense for the fine and the subtle in the public taste, that this romance
made no deep impression. Undine's character, before she receives a soul, is
marvellously beautiful."
The author, to whom we are so much indebted for these Specimens and
other Literary Remains, and to whom we had hoped, alas! to be more and
more indebted, as well for these labours of love as for those of his own classical genius, observes in a note: "Mr. Coleridge's admiration of this
little romance was unbounded. He said there was something in Undine
even beyond Scott,-that Scott's best characters and conceptions were
composed; by which I understood him to mean, that Baillie Nicol Jarvie,
for example, was made up of old particulars, and received its individuality from the author's power of fusion, being in the result an admirable
product, as Corinthian brass was said to be the conflux of the spoils of a
city. But Undine, he said, was one and single in projection, and had
presented to his imagination, what Scott had never done, an absolutely
new idea."
This character being formed according to the principles of the Rosicrucian philosophy, it has been suggested to me, that to enable the reader to
understand and appreciate her story, I ought to prefix a sketch of that system to my translation, and I once thought of profiting by the suggestion.
On reflection, however, I cannot but view the work as complete in itself.
Whatever seems requisite, even for readers least conversant with such lore,
FGuqu6 has contrived to incorporate, and I think very happily too, with the
texture of his fable. See the developments of the eighth chapter. Everybody enjoys the delightful marvels of the ARABIAN NIGHTS, marvels that have
almost become numbered among the common-places of our experience; even
children understand the machinery of genii, magicians, talismans, rings,
lamps, and enchanted horses.




PREFACE.                            XUii
The reader will allow me to observe, in closing these brief notices, that,
supported as well by my own feeling as by the judgment of Menzel, Coleridge, and, I may add, by the general voice of criticism, I view UNDINE not
only as a work of art, but as something far superior, an exquisite creation of
genius. If I have failed to do justice to her peculiar traits, in thus introducinog her to him in the costume of our language, it is not owing to want
of admiration, or of studiously endeavoring to be faithful to my trust; and,
aware of the difficulty of presenting her the " vision of beauty" that
Fouqu6 " found" her, he will forgive the fond impulse of my ambition.
What welcome she may receive among us, it remains for the noble knights
and lovely ladies of our country to show. She does not come as a
stranger, —she has already been more than once greeted with favour; still,
wide as may be her fame in the world of letters, she seems, as yet, to be
more talked of in the world of common readers, than, if I may so speak,
xnown in person. To ALL lovers of the imaginative, therefore,-to every
" simple, affectionate, and wonder-loving heart,"-hor fortunes are again
committed.
THIS translation of UNDINE was first published in 1839, as the third
volume of the New York " LIBRARY OF ROMANCE," of which " PHANTASZION" formed the first and second. It was republished also, the same year,
in the London " STANDARD LIBRARY." Encouraged by its favourable reception, and feeling that every thing of value, in a picture so closely allied to
poetry as this, depends on skilfully disposing the colours of thought, the
lights and shades of expression, I have since that edition again and again
compared it with the German, and spared no pains to render it less unworthy of the welcome with which it has been honoured.
What I proposed to myself, as a general if not an invariable rule in
translating and revising, was this, to adhere to the verbal import of the original, whenever a freer rendering did not give promise of more clearness,
beauty, or force of expression, in English. Freedom and fidelity, indeed,
have been my continual aim; but, notwithstanding the imperfections which
I have from time to time detected and removed, when I perceive how
faint a shadow my version is of the vivid original, I am  able to make no
higher boast than of having tried to copy the author's fineness and subtlety
of conception, as well as the case and simplicity of his execution. Still,
however inadequate the t anslation may be, and however perfect a copy
solne more expert translator may produce, few or none will ever submit to a
like process of revision and improvement to make it such; and though
a lIbour of love," as one of my reviewers has been pleased to call my




xiv                          PREFACE.
work,-a striving after accuracy of thought and expression, as if it were
a case of conscience,-it is a labour that I would fain hope I shall seldom
find it necessary to repeat.
The preceding remarks formed the "Advertisement" to the " Miniature
Romances from the German," published in Boston, 1841. Since that time,
the translation of UNDINE has passed through more editions in London, than
it is necessary or I am able to mention. In all of them, omissions have
been made, and other unauthorized liberties have been taken; but that of
Mr. James Burns, in his recent volumes o' Fouqu6, I consider by far the
best I have seen. I thank the editor for the labor he has bestowed upon
my version. I should have been more pleased, indeed, if he had not removed the author's headings from the chapters, if he had not chosen to
unite two chapters in one, and if he had not injured several passages by the
changes he has made: still he has revised my work with so much care and
good taste, that, in preparing it for Messrs. Wiley & Putnam's publication,
I have derived many verbal improvements from his copy. While I am glad
to welcome this English fellow-worker to the same delightful field, I cannot
but cherish the assurance, that his translations of German romance, both
original and selected, will be as warmly welcomed by all lovers of the
Natural and Supernatural as by myselL
T. TRACY.




DEDICATION.
VIsION of beauty, dear Undine,
Since led by storied light,
I found you, mystic sprite,
How soothing to my heart your voice has been,
You press beside me, angel mild,
Soft breathing all your woes,
And winning brief repose,A wayward, tender, timid child.
Still my guitar has caught the tone,
And from its gate of gold
Your whispered sorrows rolled,
Till through the world their sound is flown.
And many hearts your sweetness love,
Though strange your freaks and state,
And while I sing your fate,
The wild and wondrous tale approve.
Now would they warmly, one and all,
Your fortunes trace anew:
Then, sweet, your way pursue,
And, fearless, enter bower and hall.
Greet noble knights with homage due;
But greet, all trusting there,
The lovely German fair:
" Welcome," they cry, "the maiden true I"
And if toward ME one dart a glance,
Say, "He's a loyal knight,
Who serves you, ladies bright,Guitar and sword,-at tourney, feast, and dance."
FouQouf.








UNDINE.
CHAPTER I.
How a Knight came to a Fisherman's Cottage.
ONCE on a beautiful evening, it may now be many hundred
years ago, there was a worthy old fisherman who sat before his
door mending his nets.
Now the corner of the world where he dwelt, was exceedingly
picturesque. The green turf on which he had built his cottage,
ran far out into a great lake; and this slip of verdure appeared
to stretch into it as much through love of its clear waters, blue
and bright, as the lake, moved by a like impulse, strove to fold
the meadow, with its waving grass and flowers, and the cooling
shade of the trees, in its fond embrace. Such were the freshness and beauty of both, that they seemed to be drawn toward
each other, and the one to be visiting the other as a guest.
With respect to human beings, indeed, in this pleasant spot,
excepting the fisherman and his family, there were few or rather
none to be met with. For in the back-ground of the scene, toward the west and north-west, lay a forest of extraordinary
wildness, which, owing to its gloom and its being almost impassable, as well as to fear of the strange creatures and visionary
forms to be encountered there, most people avoided entering,
unless in cases of extreme necessity. The pious old fisherman, however, many times passed through it without harm,
when he carried the fine fish, which he caught by his beautiful
strip of land, to a great city lying only a short distance beyond
the extensive forest.
2




2                       UNDINE.
Now the reason he was able to go through this wood with so
much ease, may have been chiefly this, because he entertained
scarcely any thoughts but such as were of a religious nature;
and besides, every time he crossed the evil-reportea shades, he
used to sing some holy song with a clear voice and from a sincere heart.
Well, while he -sat by his nets this evening, neither fearing
nor devising evil, a sudden terror seized him, as he heard a
rushing in the darkness of the wood, that resembled the trampling of a mounted steed, and the noise continued every instant
drawing nearer and nearer to his little territory.
What he had dreamed in his reveries, when abroad in many
a stormy night, respecting the mysteries of the forest, now
flashed through his mind in a moment; especially the figure of
a man of gigantic stature and snow-white appearance, who
kept nodding his head in a portentous manner.  Yet, when he
raised his eyes toward the wood, the form came before him in
perfect distinctness, as he saw the nodding man burst forth
from the mazy web-work of leaves and branches. But he immediately felt emboldened, when he reflected that nothing to
give him alarm had ever befallen him even in the forest; and
moreover, that on this open neck of land the evil spirit, it was
likely, would be still less daring in the exercise of its power.
At the same time, he prayed aloud with the most earnest sincerity of devotion, repeating a passage of the Bible.  This
inspired him with fresh courage; and soon perceiving the illusion) the strange mistake into which his imagination had betrayed
hint, he could with difficulty refrain from laughing. The white,
nodding figure he had seen, became transformed in the twinkling of an eye, to what in reality it was, a small brook, long
and familiarly known to him, which ran foaming from the
forest, and discharged itself into the lake.
But what had caused the startling sound, was a knight, array,
ed in sumptuous apparel, who beneath the shadows of the trees
come riding toward the cottage. His doublet was of dark violet,
embroidered with gold, and his scarlet cloak hung gracefully




UNDINE.                        3
over it; on his cap of burnished gold waved red and violet
plumes, and in his golden Ohoulder-belt flashed a sword,
richly ornamented and extremely beautiful. The white barb
that bore the knight, was more slenderly built than war-horses
usually are; and he touched the turf with a step/so light and
elastic, that the green and flower-woven carpet seemed hardly
to receive the slightest break from his tread. The old fisherman, notwithstanding, did not feel perfectly secure in his mind,
although he was forced to believe, that no evil could be feared
from an appearance so prepossessing; and therefore, as good
manners dictated, he took off his hat on the knight's coming
near, and quietly remained by the side of his nets.
When the stranger stopped, and asked whether he with his
horse could have shelter and entertainment there for the night,
the fisherman returned answer: " As to your horse, fair Sir, I
have no better stable for him than this shady meadow, and no
better provender than the grass that is growing here. But with
respect to yourself, you shall be welcome to our humble cottage, and to-the best supper and lodging we are able to give
you."
The knight was well contented with this reception; and
alighting from his horse, which his host assisted him to relieve
from saddle and bridle, he let him hasten away to the fresh
pasture, and thus spoke: " Even had I found you less hospitable and kindly disposed, my worthy old friend, you would Still,
I suspect, hardly have got rid of me to-day; for here, I perceive, a broad lake lies before us, and as to riding back into
that wood of wonders, with the shades of evening deepening
around me, may Heaven in its grace preserve me from the
thought!"
"Pray, not a word of the wood, or of returning into it!" said
the fisherman, and took his guest into the cottage.
There, beside the hearth, from which a frugal fire was dif
fusing its light through the clean dusky room, sat the fisherman's aged wife in a great chair. At the entrance of their
noble guest, she rose and gave him a courteous welcome, but




4                       UNDINE.
sat down again in her seat of honour, not making the slightest
offer of it to the stranger. Upon this the fisherman said with a
smile:' You must not be offended with her, young gentleman, because she has not given up to you the best chair in the house;
it is a custom among poor people to look upon this as the privilege of the aged."
"Why, husband!" cried the old lady with a quiet smile,
"where can your wits be wandering?  Our guest, to say the
least of him, must belong to a Christian country, and how. is it
possible then, that so well-bred a young man, as he appears to
be, could dream of driving old people from their chairs? Take
a seat, my young master," continued she, turning to the knight;
" there is still quite a snug little chair across the room there,
only be careful not to shove it about too roughly, for one of its
legs, I fear, is none of the firmest."
The knight brought up the seat as carefully as she could desire, and good-humouredly sat down upon it; while it seemed
to him for a moment, that he must be somehow related to this
little household, and have just returned home from abroad.
These three worthy people now began to converse in the
most friendly and familiar manner. In relation to the forest,
indeed, concerning which the knight occasionally made some
inquiries, the old man chose to know but little; at any rate he
was of opinion, that slightly touching upon it, at this hour of
twilight, was most suitable and safe; but of the cares and comforts of their home and their business abroad, the aged couple
spoke more freely, and listened also with eager curiosity, as the
knight recounted to them his travels, and how he had a castle
near one of the sources of the Danube, and that his name was
Sir Huldbrand of Ringstetten.
Already had the stranger, while they were in the midst of
their talk, been aware at times of a splash against the little low
window, as if some one were dashing water against it. The
old man, every time he heard the noise, knit his brows with
vexation; but at last, when the whole sweep of a shower caine




UNDINE.                         5
pouring like a torrent against the panes, and bubbling through
the decayed frame into the room, he started up indignant, rushed to the window, and cried with a threatening voice:
"Undine! wvill you never leave off these fooleries? not
even to-day, when we have a stranger-knight with us in the
cottage?"
All without now became still, only a low titter was just perceptible, and the fisherman said, as he came back to his seat:
1" You will have the goodness, my honored guest, to pardon
this freak, and it may be a multitude more, but she has no
thought of evil or any thing improper. This mischievous Undine, to confess the truth, is our adopted daughter, and she
stoutly refuses to give over this frolicksome childishness of hers,
although she has already entered her eighteenth year. But in
spite of this, as 1 said before, she is at heart one of the very
best children in the world."
" You may say so," broke in the old lady, shaking her head,
" you can give a better account of her than I can.  When
you return home from fishing, or from selling your fish in the
city, you may think her frolics very delightful. But to have
her figuring about you the whole day long, and never, from
morning to night, to hear her speak one word of sense; and
then, as she grows older, instead of having any help from her
in the family, tc find her a continual cause of anxiety, lest her
wild humours should completely ruin us,-that is quite a different affair, and enough at last to weary out the patience even
of a saint."
"Well, well," replied the master of the house, with a smile,
" you have your trials with Undine, and I have mine with the
lake. The lake often beats down my dams, and breaks the
meshes of my nets, but for all that I have a strong affection for
it; and so have you, in spite of your mighty crosses and vexations, for our nice pretty little child. Is it not true?"
"GlOne cannot be very angry with her," answered the old
lady, as she gave her husband an approving smile.
That instant the door flew open, and a girl of slender form,




6                      UNDINE.
almost a very miniature of woman, her hair flaxen and her
complexion fair, in one word, a blonde-like miracle of beauty,
slipped laughing in, and said: " You have only been making
a mock of me, father; for where now is the guest you mentioned?"
The same moment, however, she perceived the knight also.
and cntinued standing before the comely young man in fixed
astonishment.  Huldbrand was charmed with her graceful
figure, and viewed her lovely features with the more intense
interest, as he imagined it was only her surprise that permitted
him to have the opportunity, and that she would soon turn away
from his gaze with increased bashfulness. But the event was
the very reverse of what he expected. For after now regarding him quite a long while, she felt more confidence, moved
nearer, knelt down before him, and, while she played with a
gold medal, which he wore attached to a rich chain on his
breast, exclaimed:
". Why, you beautiful, you friendly guest! how have you
reached our poor cottage at last? Have you been obliged, for
years and year&, to wander about the world, before you could
catch one glimpe of our nook? Do you come out of that wild
forest, my lovely friend?"
The old woman was so prompt in her reproof, as to allow
him no time to answer. She commanded the maiden to rise,
show better manners, and go to her work. But Undine, without making any reply, drew a little footstool near Huldbrand's
chair, sat down upon it with her netting, and said in a gentle
tone: " I will work here."
The old man did as parents are apt to do with children, to
whom they have been over-indulgent. He affected to observe
nothing of Undine's strange behaviour, and was beginning to talk
about something else. But this was what the little girl would
not suffer him to do. She broke in upon him: " I have asked
our kind guest, from whence he has come among us3 and he
has not yet answered me."




UNDINE.                        7
"I come out of the forest, you lovely little vision," Huldbrand returned, and she spoke again:
" You must also tell me how you came to enter that forest,
so feared and shunned, and the marvellous adventures you met
with there; for there is no escaping, I guess, without something of this kind."
Huldbrand felt a slight shudder, on remembering what he
had witnessed, and looked involuntarily toward the window;
for it seemed to him, that one of the strange shapes, which had
come upon him in the forest, must be there grinning in through
the glass; but he discerned nothing except the deep darkness
of night, which had now enveloped the whole prospect. Upon
this, he became more collected, and was just on the point of
beginning his account, when the old man thus interrupted him:
"Not so, Sir knight; this is by no means a fit hour for such
relations."
But Undine, in a state of high excitement, sprang up from
her little cricket, braced her beautiful arms against her sides,
and cried, placing herself directly before the fisherman:  "He
shall not tell his story, father? he shall not? But it is my
will: —he shall!-he shall, stop him who may!"
Thus speaking, she stamped her neat little foot vehemently
on the floor, but all with an air of such comic and good-humoured simplicity, that Huldbrand now found it quite as hard
to withdraw his gaze from her wild emotion, as he had before
from her gentleness and beauty. The old man, on the contrary,
burst out in unrestrained displeasure. He severely reproved
Undine fbr her disobedience and her unbecoming carriage
toward the stranger, and his good old wife joined him in harping on the same string.
By these rebukes Undine was only excited the more.   If
you want to quarrel with me," she cried, " and will not let me
hear what I so much desire, then sleep alone in your smoky
old hut!"-And swift as an arrow she shot from the door, and
vanished amid the darkness of the night.




8                        UNDINE.
CHAPTER II.
In what manner Undine had come to the Fisherman.
TULDBRAND and the fisherman sprang from their seats, and were
rushing to stop the angry girl; but before they could reach the
cottage door, she had disappeared in the cloud-like obscurity
without, and no sound, not so much even as that of her light
foot-step, betrayed the course she had taken. Huldbrand threw
a glance of inquiry toward his host: it almost seemed to him, as
if his whole interview with a sweet appa-rition, which had so
suddenly plunged again amid the night, were no other than a
continuation of the wonderful forms, that had just played their
mad pranks with him in the forest; but the old man muttered
between his teeth:
" This is not the first time she has treated us in this manner.
Now must our hearts be filled with anxiety, and our eyes find
no sleep, the livelong night; for who can assure us, in spite of
her past escapes, that she will not some time or other come
to harm, if she thus continue out in the dark and alone until
daylight?"
" Then pray, for God's sake, father, let us follow her," cried
Huldbrand anxiously.
" Wherefore should we?" replied the old man; " it would be
a sin, were I to suffer you, all alone, to search after the foolish
girl amid the lonesomeness of night; and my old limbs would
fail to carry me to this wild rover, even if I knew to what
place she has hurried off."
"Still we ought at least to call after her, and beg her to return," said Huldbrand; and he began to call in tones of earnest
entreaty: "Undine! Undine! come back, pray come back!"
The old man shook his head, arad said: "All your shouting,




UNDINE.                       9
however loud and long, will be of no avail; you know not as
yet, Sir knight, what a self-willed thing the little wilding is."
But still, even hoping against hope, he could not himself cease
calling out every minute, amid the gloom of night: " Undine!
ah, dear Undine! I beseech you, pray come back,-only this
once."
It turned out, however, exactly as the fisherman had said.
No Undine could they hear or see; and as the old man would
on no account consent that Huldbrand should go in quest of the
fugitive, they were both obliged at last to return into the cottage. There they found the fire on the hearth almost gone
out, and the mistress of the house, who took Undine's flight and
danger far less to heart than her husband, had already gone to
rest. The old man blew up the coals, put on dry wood, and
by means of the renewed flame hunted for a jug of wine, which
he brought and set between himself and his guest.
" You, Sir knight, as well as I," said he, "are anxious on
the silly girl's account, and it would be better, I think, to spend
part of the night in chatting and drinking, than keep turning
and turning on our rush-mats, and trying in vain to sleep.
What is your opinion?"
Huldbrand was well pleased with the plan; the fisherman
pressed him to take. the vacant seat of honor, its worthy occupant having now left it for her couch; and they relished their
beverage and enjoyed their chat, as two such good men and
true ever ought to do. To be sure, whenever the slightest
thing moved before the windows, or at times when just nothing
at all was moving, one of them would look up and exclaim,
" There she comes!"-Then would they continue silent a few
moments, and afterwvard, when nothing appeared, would shake
their heads, brea he out a sigh, and go on with their talk.
But as they could neither of them think of any thing except
Undine, the best plan they could devise was, that the old fisherman should relate, and the knight should hear, in what manner
Undine had come to the cottage. So the fisherman began as
follows:




10                      UNDINE.
"It is now about fifteen years, since I one day crossed the wild
forest with fish for the city market. My wife had remained at
home, as she was wont to do; and at this time for a reason of
more than common interest; for although we were beginning
to feel the advances of age, God had bestowed upon us an infant
of wonderful beauty. It was a little girl, and we already began to ask ourselves the question, whether we ought not, for
the advantage of the new-comer, to quit our solitude, and, the
better to bring up this precious gift of Heav-n, to remove to
some more inhabited place. Poor people, to be sure, cannot in
these cases do all you may think they ought, Sir knight; but
still, gracious God! we must all do as much for our children
as we possibly can.
"Well, I went on my way, and this affair would keep running
in my head. This tongue of land was most dear to me, and I
shrunk from the thought of leaving it, when, amidst the bustle
and brawls of the city, I was obliged to reflect in this manner
by myself:'In a scene of tumult like this, or at least in one
not much more quiet, I too must soon take up my abode.' But
in spite of these feelings, I was far from murmuring against the
kind providence of God; on the contrary, when I received this
new blessing, my heart breathed a prayer of thankfulness too
deep for words to express. I should also speak an untruth,
were 1 to say, that any thing befell me, either on my passage
through the forest to the city, or on my returning homeward,
that gave me more alarm than usual, as at that time I had never
seen any appearance there, which could terrify or annoy me.
The Lore was ever with me in those awful shades."
Thus speaking, he took his cap reverently from his bald
head, and continued to sit, for a considerable time, in devout
thought. He then covered himself again, and went on with his
relation:
"On this side the forest, alas! it was on this side, that woe
burst upon me. My wife came wildly to meet me, clad in
mourning apparel, and her eyes streaming with tears.' Gracious God!' I cried with a groan;'where's our child? Speak I'




UNDINE.                       11
"'With the Being on whom you have called, dear husband,'
she answered; and we now  entered the cottage together,
weeping in silence. I looked for the little corse, almost fearing
to find what I was seeking; and then it was I first learnt how
all had happened.
" My wife had taken the little one in her arms, and walked
out to the shore of the lake. She there sat down by: ts very
brink; and while she was playing with the infant, as free from
all fear as she was full of delight, it bent forward on a sudden,
as if seeing something very beautiful in the water. My wife
saw her laugh, the dear angel, and try to catch the image in
her little hands; but in a moment,-with a motion swifter than
sight, —she sprung from her mother's arms, and sunk in the
lake, the watery glass into which she had been gazing. I
searched for our lost darling again and again; but it was all
in vain; I could nowhere find the least trace of her.
" Well, we were again childless parents, and were now, on
the same evening, sitting together by our cottage hearth. We
had no desire to talk, even if our tears would have permitted
us. As we thus sat in mournful stillness, gazing into the fire,
all at once we heard something without, —a slight rustling at
the door. The door flew open, and we saw a little girl, three
or four years old, and more beautiful than I am able to tell
you, standing on the threshold, richly dressed and smiling upon
us. We were struck dumb with astonishment, and I knew not
for a time, whether the tiny form were a real human being, or
a mere mockery of enchantment. But I soon perceived water
dripping from her golden hair and rich garments, and that the
pretty child had been lying in the water, and stood in immediate need of our help.
"'Wife,' said I,' no one has been able to save our child for
us; still we doul less ought to do for others, what would make
ourselves the happiest parents on earth, could any one do us
the same kindness.'
"We undressed the little thing, put her to bed, and gave her
something warming to drink: at all this she spoke not a word,




12                     UNDINE.
but only turned her eyes upon us,-eyes blue and bright as sea
or sky,-and continued looking at us with a smile.
"Next morning, we had no reason to fear, that she had received any other harm than her wetting, and I now asked her
about her parents, and how she could have come to us. But
the account she gave, was both confused and incredible. She
must surely have been born far from here, not only because 1
have been unable, for these fifteen years, to learn any thing of
her birth, but because she then said, ard at times continues to
say, many things of so very singular a nature, that we neither
of us know, after all, whether she may not have dropped among
us from the moon. Then her talk runs upon golden castles,
crystal domes, and Heaven knows what extravagances beside.
What of her story, however, she related with most distinctness,
was this, that while she was once taking a sail with her mother on the great lake, she fell out of the boat into the water;
and that when she first recovered her senses, she was here under our trees, where the gay scenes of the shore filled her with
delight.
" We now had another care weighing upon our minds, and
one that caused us no small perplexity and uneasiness. We
of course very soon determined to keep and bring up the child
we had found, in place of our own darling that had been
drowned; but who could tell us whether she had been baptized
or not?  She herself could give us no light on the subject.
When we asked her the question, she commonly made answer,
that she well knew she was created for God's praise and glory,
and that as to what might promote the praise and glory of God.
she was willing to let us determine.
" My wife and I reasoned in this way:' If she has not been
baptized, there can be no use in putting off the ceremony; and
if she has been, it is more dangerous to have too little of a good
thing than too much.'
" Taking this view of our difficulty, we now endeavored to
hit upon a good name for the child) since while she remained
without one, we were often at a loss, in our familiar talk, to




UNDINE.                       13
know what to call her. We at length decided, that Dorothea
would be most suitable for her, as I had somewhere heard it
said, that this name signified a Gift of God; and surely she
had been sent to us by Providence as a gift, to comfort us in
our misery. She, on the contrary, would not so much as hear
Dorothea mentioned: she insisted, that as she had been named
Undine by her parents, Undine she ought still to be called.
It now occurred to me, that this was a heathenish name, to
be found in no calendar, and I resolved to ask the advice of a
priest in the city. He too would hear nothing of the name,
Undine; and yielding to my urgent request, he came with me
through the enchanted forest, in order to perform the rite of
baptism here in my cottage.
" The little maid stood before us so smart in her finery, and
with so winning an air of gracefulness, that the heart of the
priest softened at once in her presence; and she had a way of
coaxing him so adroitly, and even of braving him at times with
so merry a queerness, that he at last remembered nothing of his
many objections to the name of Undine.
" Thus then was she baptized Undine; and during the holy
ceremony, she behaved with great propriety and gentleness,
wild and wayward as at other times she invariably was. For
in this my wife was quite right, when she mentioned what care
and anxiety the child has occasioned us. If I should relate to
you"At this moment the knigoht interru; ted the fisherman, w"id a
view to direct his attention to a deep sound, as of a ruing
flood, which had caught his ear, within a few minutes, between
the words of the old man. And now the wattcrs came pouring
on with redoubled fury before the cottage windows. Both
sprang to the door. There they saw, by the light of the now
risen moon, the brook which issued from the wood, rushing wildly
over its banks, and whirling onward with it both stones and
branches of trees in its rapid course. The storm, as if awakened by the uproar, burst fbrth from the clouds, whose immense
masses of vapour coursed over the moon with the swiftness of




14                    UNDINE.
thought; the lake roared beneath the wind, that swept the foam
from its waves; while the trees of this narrow peninsula
groaned from root to top-most branch, as they bowed and
swung above the torrent.
" Undine! in God's name, Undine!" cried the two men in
an agony. No answer was returned; and now, regardless of
every thing else, they hurried from the cottage, one in this direction, the other in that, searching and calling.




UNDINE.                       15
CHAPTER III.
How they found Undine again.
TmIE longer Huldbrand sought Undine beneath the shades of
night, and failed to find her, the more anxious and confused he
became. The impression that she was a mere phantom of the
forest, g. ined a new ascendency over him; indeed, amid the
howling of the waves and the tempest, the crashing of the trees,
and so entire a chr nge of the scene, that it bore no resemblance
to its former calm beauty, he was tempted to view the whole
peninsula, together with the cottage and its inhabitants, as little
more than some mockery of his senses; but still he heard, afar
off, the fisherman's anxious and incessant shouting, " UNDINE!
UNDINE!" and also his aged wife, who, with a loud voice and
a strong feeling of awe, was praying and chanting hymns amid
the commotion.
At length, when he drew near to the brook which had overflowed its banks, he perceived by the moonlight, that it had
taken its wild course directly in front of the haunted forest, so
as to change the peninsula into an island.
"Merciful God!" he breathed to himself "if Undine has
ventured one step within that fearful wood, what will become
of her?  Perhaps it was all owing to her sportive and wayward spirit, because I could give her no account of my adventures there. And now the stream is rolling between us, she
may be weeping alone on the other side in the midst of spectral
horrors!"
A shuddering groan escaped him, and clambering over some
-stones and trunks of overthrown pines, in order to step into the
impetuous current, he resolved, either by wading or swimming,
to seek the wanderer on the further shore. He felt, it is true,




16                        UNDINE.
all the dread and shrinking awe creeping over him, which he
had already suffered by daylight among the now  tossing and
roaring branches of the forest.  More than all, a tall man in
white, whom  he knew but too well, met his view, as he stood
grinning and nodding on the grass beyond the water; but even
monstrous forms, like this, only impelled him  to cross over
toward them, when the thought rushed upon him, that Undine
might be there alone, and in the agony of death.
He had already grasped a stout branch of a pine, and stood
supporting himself upon it in the whirling current, against
which he could with dif.iculty keep himself erect; but he advanced. deeper in, with a courageous spirit. That instant, a
gentle voice of warning cried near him: " Do not venture, do
not venture! —that OLD MAN, the STREAM, iS too full of tricks to
be trusted!"-He knew the soft tones of the voice; and while
he stood as it were entranced, beneath the shadows which now
duskily veiled the moon, his head swum with the swell and rolling of the waves, as he every moment saw them foaming and
dashing above his knee. Still he disdained the thought of
giving up his purpose.
"If you are not really there, if you are merely gambolling
round me like a mist, may I too bid farewell to life, and become
a shadow like you, dear, dear Undine!"* Thus calling aloud,
he again moved deeper into the stream.  "Look round you, —
ah pray look round you, beautiful young stranger! why rush
on death so madly!" cried the voice a second time close by
him; and looking on one side, as the moon by glimpses un* This intensive form of expression is almost as familiar in English as in
German, and I have not scrupled occasionally to employ it. The following
example from THALABA, is one of the most impressive in the language:
"No sound but the wild, wild wind,
And the snow crunching under his feet."
These lines from the Ancient Mariner afford another example, and one
still more remarkable:
" Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea."




UNDINE.                       17
veiled its light, he perceived a little island formed by the flood,
and, reclined upon its flowery turf beneath the high branches of
embowering trees, he saw the smiling and lovely Undine.
O with what a thrill of delight, compared with -the suspense
and pause of a moment before, the young man now plied his
sturdy staff! A few steps freed him from the flood, that was
rushing between himself and the maiden, and he stood near her
on the little spot of green-sward, in secret security, covered by
the primeval trees that rustled above them. Undine had partially risen, within her tent of verdure, and she now threw her
arms around his neck, so that she gently drew him down upon
the soft seat by her side.
" Here you shall tell me your story, my handsome friend,"
she breathed in a low whisper; " here the cross old people cannot disturb us. And, besides, our roof of leaves here will make
quite as good a shelter, it may be, as their poor cottage."
"It is heaven itself," cried Huldbrand; and folding her in
his arms, he kissed the lovely and affectionate girl with fervour.
The old fisherman, meantime, had come to the margin of the
stream, and he shouted across to the young lovers: "Why
how is this, Sir knight! I received you with the welcome
which one true-hearted man gives to another, and now you
sit there caressing my foster-child in secret, while you suffer
me in my anxiety to go roaming through the night in quest
of her."
" Not till this moment did I find her myself, old father," cried
the knight across the water.
"So much the better," said the fisherman; " but now make
haste, and bring her over to me upon firm ground."
To this, however, Undine would by no means consent. She
declared, that she would rather enter the wild forest itself with
the beautiful stranger, than return to the cottage, where she
was so thwarted in her wishes, and fiom which the handsome
knight would soon or late go away. Then closely embracing




18                        UNDINE.
Huldbrand, she sung the following verse with the warbling
sweetness of a bird:
" A RILL would leave its misty vale,
And fortunes wild explore;
Weary at length it reached the main,
And sought its vale no more."
The old fisherman wept bitterly at her song, but his emotion
seemed to awaken little or no sympathy in her. She kissed and
caressed her new friend, whom she called her darling, and who
at last said to her: " Undine, if the distress of the old man
does not touch your heart, it cannot but move mine. We ought
to return to him."
She opened her large blue eyes upon him in perfect amazement, and spoke at last with a slow and lingering accent: " If
you think so,-it is well; all is right to me, which you think
right. But the old man over there must first give me his
promise, that he will allow you, without objection, to relate
what you saw in the wood, and-  well, other things will settle themselves."*
"' Come, do only come!" cried the fisherman to her, unable
to utter another word. At the same time, he stretched his
arms wide over the current toward her, and, to give her assurance that he would do what she required, nodded his head;
this motion caused his white hair to fall strangely over his face,
and Huldbrand could not but remember the nodding white man
of the forest. Without allowing anything, however, to produce in him the least confusion, the young knight took the
beautiful girl in his arms, and bore her across the narrow channel, which the stream had torn away between her little island
and the solid shore. The old man fell upon Undine's neck,
and found it impossible either to express his joy, or to kiss her
enough; even the ancient dame came up, and embraced the
* "Undine evidently meant to have added another condition, but then
thinking it superfluous, only remarks,-' well, other things will settle themselves.' "




UNDINE.                      19
recovered girl most cordially. Every word of censure was
carefully avoided; the more so indeed, as even Undine, forgetting her waywardness, almost overwhelmed her foster-parents
with caresses and the prattle of tenderness.
When at length the excess of their joy at recovering their
child had subsided, and they seemed to have come to themselves, morning had already dawned, opening to view and
brightening the waters of the lake. The tempest had become
hushed, and small birds sung merrily on the moist branches.
As Undine now insisted upon hearing the recital of the
knight's promised adventures, the aged couple, smiling with
good-humour, yielded to her wish. Breakfast was brought
out beneath the trees, which stood behind the cottage toward
the lake on the north, and they sat down to it with delighted
hearts,-Undine lower than the rest (since she would by no
means allow it to be otherwise) at the knight's feet on the grass.
These arrangements being made, Huldbrand began his story
in the following manner.




20                        UNDINE.
CHAPTER IV.
Of what had happened to the Knight in the forest.
" IT is now about eight days since I rode into the free imperial
city, which lies yonder on the further side of the forest.  Soon
after my arrival, a splendid tournament and running at the ring
tcok place there, and 1 spared neither my horse nor my lance
in the encounters.
" Once, while I was pausing at the lists, to rest from  the
brisk exercise, and was handing back my helmet to one of my
attendants, a female figure of extraordinary beauty caught my
attention, as, most magnificently attired, she stood looking on at
one of the balconies. I learnt, on making inquiry of a person
near me, that the name of the gay young lady was Bertalda,
and that she was a foster-daughter of one of the powerful dukes
of this country. She too, I observed, was gazing at me, and
the consequences were such, as we young knights are wont to
experience: whatever success in riding I might have had before,
I was now favoured with still better fortune.  That evening I
was Bertalda's partner in the dance, and I enjoyed the same
distinction during the remainder of the festival."
A sharp pain in his left hand, as it hung carelessly beside
hilm, here interrupted Huldbrand's relation, and drew his eye to
the part affected.   Undine  had fastenied her pearly teeth,
and not without some keenness too, upon one of his fingers,
appearing at the same time very gloomy and displeased. On
a sudden, however, she looked up in his eyes with an expression of tender melancholy, and whispered almost inaudibly:
" You blame me, but it was all your own fault."*
" That is, you act or speak in such a manner, as to make me treat you
rudely. Why do you say such provoking things?-It is a kind of tender
ie plroof, in self defence." C. F.




UNDINE.                       21
She then covered her face, and the knight, strangely embarrassed and thoughtful, went on with his story;
" This lady Bertalda of whom  I spoke, is of a proud and
wayward spirit. The second day I saw her she pleased me by
no means so much as she had the first, and the third day still
less. But I continued about her, because she showed -me more
favour than she did any other knight; and it so happened, that
[ playfully asked her to give me one of her gloves.
"' When you have entered the haunted forest all alone,' said
she;'when you have explored its wonders, and brought me a
full account of them, the glove is yours.'
" As to getting her glove, it was of no importance to me
whatever, but the word had been spoken, and no honourable
knight would permit himself to be urged to such a proof of valour a second time."
" I thought," said Undine, interrupting him, "that she loved
you.")
"It did appear so," replied Huldbrand.
"Well!" exclaimed the maiden laughing, "this is beyond
belief; she must be very stupid and heartless. To drive from
her one who was dear to her! And, worse than all, into that
ill-omened wood! The wood and its mysteries, for all I should
have cared, might have waited a long while."
"Yesterday morning, then," pursued the knight, smiling
brightly upon Undine, " I set out from the city, my enterprise
before me. The early light lay rich upon the verdant turf. It
shone so rosy on the slender boles of the trees, and there was so
merry a whispering among the leaves, that in my heart I could
not but laugh at people, who feared meeting any thing to terrify them in a spot so delicious.'I shall soon trot through the
forest, and as speedily return,' I said to myself in the overflow of
joyous feeling; and ere I was well aware, I had entered deep
among the green shades, while of the plain that lay behind me,
I was no more able to catch a glimpse.
" Then the conviction for the first time impressed me, that
in a foreGst of so great extent I might very easily become bewil



22                      UNDINE.
dered, and that this perhaps might be tne only danger, wnich
was likely to threaten those who explored its recesses. So I
made a halt, and turned myself in the direction of the sun,
which had meantime risen somewhat higher; and while I was
looking up to observe it, I saw something black among the
boughs of a lofty oak. My first thought was,-' It is a bear!'
and I grasped my weapon of defence; the object then accosted
me from above in a human voice, but n a tone most harsh and
hideous:' If I overhead here do not gnaw off these dry branches,
Sir Wiseacre, what shall we have to roast you with, when midnight con, es?' And with that it grinned, and made such a rattling with the branches, that my courser became mad with af
fright, and rushed furiously forward with me, before I had time
to see distinctly what sort of a devil's beast it was."
"You must not name it," said the old fisherman, crossing
himself; his wife did the same without speaking a word; and
Undine, while her eye sparkled with glee, looked at her beloved
knight and said: " The best of the story is, however, that as
yet they have not actually roasted you. But pray make haste,
my handsome young friend. I long to hear more."
The knight then went on with his adventures: " My horse
was so wild, that he well-nigh rushed with me against limbs
and trunks of trees. He was dripping with sweat, through
terror, heat, and the violent straining of his muscles. Still he
refused to slacken his career. At last, altogether beyond my
control, he took his course directly up a stony steep; when
suddenly a tall white man flashed before me, and threw him
self athwart the way my mad steed was taking. At this apparition he shuddered with new affright, and stopt, trembling. I
took this chance of recovering my command of him, and now
for the first time perceived, that my deliverer, so far from being
a white MAN, was only a brook of silver brightness, faniing
near me in its descent from the hill, while it crossed and arrested
my horse's course with its rush of waters."
"Thanks, thanks, dear BROOK," cried Undine, clapping her




UNDINE.                      23
little hands. But the old man shook his head, and, deeply
musing, looked vacantly down before him.
" Hardly had I well settled myself in my saddle, and got the
reins in my grasp again," Huldbrand pursued, " when a wizardlike dwarf of a man was alrealy standing at my side, diminntive and ugly beyond conception, his complexion of a brownish
yellow, and his nose scarcely of less magnitude than all the
rest of him. The fellow's mouth was slit almost from ear to
ear, and he showed his teeth with a simpering smile of idiot
courtesy, while he overwhelmed me with bows and scrapes innumnerable. The farce now becoming excessively irksome, I
thanked him in the fewest words I could well use, turned about
my still trembling charger, and purposed either to seek another
adventure, or, should I meet with none, to pick my way back
to the city; for the sun, during my wild chase, had passed the
meridian, and was now hastening toward the west. But this
villain of a manikin sprung at the same instant, and, with a turn
as rapid as lightning, stood before my horse again.'Clear the
way there!' I fiercely shouted;'the beast is wild, and will
make nothing of running over you.'
"'IHe will, will he!' cried the imp with a snarl, and snorting
out a laugh still more frightfully idiotic;' pay me, first pay
what you owe me, —I stopt your fine little nag for you; without
my help, both you and he would be now sprawling below
there in that stony ravine. Hu! from what a horrible plunge
I've saved you.'
"'Well, pray don't stretch your mouth any wider,' said I,'but take your drink-money and be off, though every word you
say is false. See, it was the kind brook there, you miserable
thing, and not you, that saved me.' An(l at the same time I
dropt a piece of gold into his wizard cap which he had taken
from his head while he was begging before me.
"I then trotted off and left him; but, to make bad worse, he
screamed after me, and on a sudden, with inconceivable quickness, he was close by my side. I started my horse into a gal



24                     UNDINE
lop; he galloped on with me, impossible for him as it appeared;
and with this strange movement, half-ludicrous and half' horrible, forcing at the same time every limb and feature into
distortion, he kept raising the gold piece as high as he could
stretch his arm, and screaming at every leap:'Counterfeit!
false! false coin! counterfeit!' and such were the croaking
sounds that issued from his hollow breast, you would have
supposed, that every time he made them, he must have
tumbled upon the ground dead. All this while, his disgusting red tongue hung lolling far out of his mouth.
"Discomposed at the sight, I stopped and asked him:' What
do you mean by your screaming? Take another piece of gold,
take two more,-but leave me.'
" He then began to make his hideous salutations of courtesy
again, and snarled out as before:'Not gold, it shall not be
gold, my smart young gentleman; I have too much of that
trash already, as I will show you in no-time.'
" At that moment, and thought itself could not have been
more instantaneous, I seemed t(. have acquired new powers of
sight. I could see through the solid green plain, as if it were
green glass, and the smooth surface of the earth were round as
a globe; and within it I saw crowds of goblins, who were pursuing their pastime, and making themselves merry with silver
and gold. They were tumbling and rolling about, heads up
and heads down: they pelted one another in sport with the
precious metals, and with irritating malice blew gold dust in
one another's eyes. My odious companion stood half within
and half without; he ordered the others to reach him up a vast
quantity of gold; this he showed to me with a laugh, and then
flung it again ringing and chinking down the measureless
abyss.': After this contemptuous disregard of gold, he held up the
piece I had given him, showing it to his brother gnomes below,
and they laughed themselves half dead at a bit so worthless,
and hissed me. At last, raising their fingers all smutched with
ore, they pointed them at me in scorn, and wilder and wilder,




UNDINE.                        25
and thicker and thicker, and madder and madder, the crowd
were clambering up to where I sat gazing at these wonders
Then terror seized me, as it had before seized my horse. I
drove my spurs into his sides; and how far he rushed headlong
with me through the forest, during this second of my wild heats,
it is impossible to say.
"At.ast7  when I had now conm tb a dead halt again, the
cool of evening was around me. I caught the gleam of a white
foot-path through the branches of the trees; and presumning it
would lead me out of the forest toward the city, I was desirous
of working my way into it; but a fiace perfectly white and indistinct, with features forever changing, kept thrusting itself out
and peering at me between the leaves.  [ tried to avoid it;
but wherever I went, there too appeared the unearthly face.
I was maddened with rage at this interruption, and drove my
steed at the appearance full-tilt; when such a cloud of white
foam came rushing upon me and my horse,'that we were almost blinded and glad to turn about and escape.  Thus from
step to step it forced us on, and ever aside from the foot-path,
leaving us, for the most part, only one direction open. But
when we advanced in this, although it kept following close
behind us, it did not occasion the smallest harm or inconvenience.
" At times, when I looked about me at the form, I perceived
that the white face, which had splashed upon us its shower of
foam, was resting on a body equally white and of more than
gigantic size. Many a time, tno I received the impression.
that the whole appearance was ndthing more than a wandering
stream or torrent, but respecting this I could never attain to
any certainty.  We both of us, horse and rider, became weary,
as we shaped our course according to the movements of the
white man, who continued nodding his head at us, as if he
would say,' Perfectly right! perfectly right!'-And thus, at
length, we came out here at the edge of the wood, where I saw
the fresh turf, the waters of the lake, and your little cottage,
and where the tall white man disappeared."




26                     UNDINE.
" Wiell, Heaven be praised that he is gone!" cried the old
fisherman; and he now fell to considering how his guest could
most conveniently return to his friends in the city. Upon this,
Undine began tittering to herself, but so very low that the
sound was hardly perceivable. Huldbrand, observing it, said:
"I had hoped you would see me remain here with pleasure;
why then do you now appear so happy, when our talk turns
upon my going away?"
"Because you cannot go away," answered Undine. " Pray
make a single attempt; try with a wherry, with your horse
or alone, as you please, to cross that forest-stream which has
burst its bounds.  Or rather, make no trial at all, for you
would be dashed to pieces by the stones and trunks of trees,
which you see driven on with such violence. And as to the
lake, I am well acquainted with that; even my father dares
not venture out with his wherry far enough to help you."
Huldbrand rose, smiling, in order to look about, and observe
whether the state of things were such, as Undine had represented it to be; the old man accompanied him, and the maiden,
in mockery, went gamboling and playing her antics beside
them. They found all, in fact, just as Undine had said, and that
the knight, whether willing or not willing, must submit to remain on the island, so lately a peninsula, until the flood should
subside.
When the three were now returning to the cottage, after
their ramble, the knight wh'sF red in the ear of the little girl:
" Well, dear Undine, how is it with you? Are you angry on
account of my remaining?"
" Ah," she pettishly made answer, " not a word of that. If
I had not bitten you, who knjws what fine things you would
have put into your story about Bertalda!"




UNDINE                        27
CHAPTER V.
How the Knight lived on the point of land, now encircled by the lake.
AT some period of your life, my dear reader, after being much
driven to and fro in the world, you may have reached a situation where all was well with you; that love for the calm security of our own fireside, which we all feel as an affection born
with us, again rose within you; you imagined that your home
would again bloom forth, as from a cherished grave, wivth all
the flowers of childhood, the purest and most impassioned love;
and ti;at, in such a spot, it must be delightful to take up your
abode, and build your tabernacle for life. Whether you were
mistaken in this, and afterward made a severe expiation for your
error, it suits not my purpose to inquire, and you would be unwilling yourself, it may be, to be saddened by a recollection so
ungrateful. But again awake within you that foretaste of bliss,
so inexpressibly sweet, that angelic salutation of peace, and you
will be able, perchance, to understand something of the knight
Huldbrand's happiness, while he remained on the point of land,
now surrounded by the lake.
He frequently observed, and no doubt with heartfelt satisfaction, that the forest-stream continued every day to swell and
loll on with a more impetuous sweep; that, by tearing away
the earth, it scooped out a broader and broader channel; and
that the time of his seclusion on the island became, in consequence, more and more extended. Part of the day he wandered about with an old cross-bow, which he found in a corner
of the cottage, and had repaired, in order to shoot the waterfowl that flew over; and all that he was lucky enough to hit,
he brought home for a good roast in the kitchen. When he
came in with his booty, Undine seldom failed to greet him with




28                       UNDINE.
a scolding, because he had cruelly deprived her dear merry
friends of life, as they were sporting above in the blue ocean
of the air; nay more, she often wept bitterly, when she viewed
the water-fowl dead in his hand. But at other times, when he
returned without having shot ally, she gave him a scolding
equally serious, since, owing to his indolent strolling and awkward handling of the bow, they must now put up with a dinner
of pickerel and crawfish. Her playful taunts ever touched his
heart with delight; the more so, as she afterwards strove to
nake up for her pretended ill-humour with the most endearing
of caresses.
In this familiarity of the young people, their aged friends
saw a resemblance to the feelings of their own youth: they ap
peared to look upon them as betrothed, or even as a young
married pair, that lived with them in their age, to afford them
assistance on their island, now torn off from the mainland.
The loneliness of his situation strongly impressed also young
Huldbrand with the feeling, that he was already Undlne's
bridegroom. It seemed to him, as if, beyond those encompassing floods, there were no other world in existence, or at any
rate as if he could never cross them, and again associate with
the world of other men; and when at times his grazing steed
raised his head and neighed to him, seemingly inquiring after
his nightly achievements and reminding him of them, or when
his coat of arms sternly shone upon him from the embroidery
of his saddle, and the caparisons of his horse, or when his
sword happened to fall from the nail on which it was hanging
in the, cottage, and flashed on his eye as it slipped from the
scabbard in its fall,-he quieted the doubts of his mind by saying to himself: " Undine cannot be a fisherman's daughter; she
is, in all probability, a native of some remote region, and a
member of some illustrious family."
There was one thing, indeed, to which he had a strong aversion: this was to hear the old dame reproving Undine. The
wild girl, it is true, commonly laughed at the reproofi making
no attempt to conceal the extravagance of her mirth; but it ap



UNDINE.                       29
peared to him like touching his own honour; and still he found
it impossible to blame the aged wife of the fisherman, since Undine always deserved at least ten times as many reproofs as she
received: so he continued to feel in his heart an affectionate
tenderness for them all, even for the ancient mistress of the
house, and his whole life flowed on in the calm stream of contentment.
There came, however, an interruption at last. The fisherman and the knight had been accustomed at dinner, and also in
the evening, when the wind roared without, as it rarely failed
to do toward night, to enjoy together a flask of wine. But now
their whole stock, which the fisherman had from time to time
brought with him from the city, was at last exhausted, and
they were both quite out of hamour at the circumstance. That
day Undine laughed at them excessively, but they were not
disposed to join in her jests with the same gaiety as usual, Toward evenine she went out of the cottage, to escape, as she said,
the sight of two such long and tiresome faces.
Wh1le it was vet twilight, some appearances of a tempest
seemed to be agamll mlustering in the sky, and the waves already rushed and roared around them: the knight and the
fisherman sprung to the door in terror, to bring home the
maiden, remembering the anguish of that night, when Huldbrand had first entered the cottage. But Undine met them at
the same moment, clapping her little hands in high glee.
" What will you give me," she cried, "to provide you with
wine? or rather, you need not give me any thing," she continued; "for I am already satisfied, if you look more cheerful,
and are in better spirits, than throughout this last most wearisome day. Do only come with me one minute; the foreststream has driven ashore a cask; and I will be condemned to
sleep a whole week, if it is not a wine-cask."
The men followed her, and actually found, in a bushy cove
of the shore, a cask, which inspired them with as much joy, as
if thev were sure it contained the generous old wine, for which
they were thirsting. They first of all, and with as much ex



30                       UNDINE.
pedition as possible rolled it toward the cottage; for heavy
clouds were again rising in the west, and they could discern the
waves of the lake, in the fading light, lifting their white foaming heads, as if looking out for the rain, which threatened every
instant to pour upon them.  Undine helped the men, as much
as she was able; and as the shower, with a roar of wind, came
aluddenly sweeping on in rapid pursuit, she raised her finger
with a merry menace toward the dark mass of clouds, and
cried: " You cloud, you cloud, have a care!-beware how you
wet us; we are some way from shelter yet."
The old man reproved her for this sally, as a sinful presumption; but she laughed to herself with a low tittering, and no
mischief came firom her wild behaviour. Nay more, what was
beyond their expectation, they all three reached their comfortable hearth unwet, with their prize secured; but the moment
the cask had been broached, and proved to contain wine of a
remarkably fine flavour, then the rain first poured unrestrained
from the black cloud, the tempest raved through the tops of the
trees, and swept f:ar over the billows of the deep.
Having immediately filled several bottles from the large cask,
which promised them a supply for a long time, they drew round
the glowing hearth; and comfortably secured from the violence
of the storm, they sat tasting the flavour of their wine, and bandying their quips and pleasantries.
As reflection returned upon him, the old fisherman all at once
became very grave, and said: "Ah, great God! here we sit,
rejoicing over this rich gift, while he to whom it first belonged,
and firom whom it was wrested by the fury of the stream, must
there also, it is more than probable, have lost his life."
" Iis fate, I trust, was not quite so melancholy as that," said
Undine, while, smiling, she filled the knight's cup to the brim.
But he exclaimed: i" By my unsullied honour, old father, if
[ knew where to find and rescue him, no fear of exposure to
the night, nor any peril, should deter me from making the attempt. But I give you all the assurance I am able to give, that
if I ever reach an inhabited country again, I will find out the




UNDINE.                      31.
owner of this wine or his heirs, and make double and triple reimbursement."
The old man was gratified with this assurance; he gave the
knight a nod of approbation, and now drained his cup with an
easier conscience and more relish.
Undine, however, said to Huldbrand: " As to the repayment
and your gold, you may do whatever you like. But what you
said about your venturing out, and searching, and exposing
yourself to danger, appears to me far from wise. I should cry
my very eyes out, should you perish there on such a wild jaunt;
and is it not true, that you would prefer staying here with me
and the good wine?'"
" Most assuredly," answered Huldbrand, smiling.
" Well, then," replied Undine, "' you see you spoke unwisely. For charity begins at home; our neighbour ought not to
be our first thought; and whatever is a calamity to him, would
be one in our own case also."
The mistress of the house turned away from her, sighing and
shaking her head, while the fisherman forgot his wonted indulgence toward the graceful little girl, and thus reproved her:
" That sounds exactly as if you had been brought up by
heathens and Turks;" and he finished his reproof by adding:
"May God forgive both me and you,-unfeeling child!"
" Well, say what you will, this is what I think and feel," replied Undine, " whoever brought me up,-and how can a thousand of your words help it?"
"- Silence!" exclaimed the fisherman in a voice of stern rebuke; and she, who with all her wild spirit was at the same
time extremely alive to fear, shrunk from him, moved close up
to Huldbrand, trembling, and said very softly:
-, Ale you also angry, dear friend?"
The knight pressed her soft hand, and tenderly stroked her
locks. He was unable to utter a word; for his vexation, aris.
ing from the old nfian's severity toward Undine, closed his lips;
and thus the two couple sat opposite to each other at once
heated with anger and in embarrassed silence.




32                      UNDINE.
CHAPTER VI.
A Wedding.
IN the midst of this painful stillness, a low knocking was heard
at the door, which struck all in the cottage with dismay; for
there are times when a slight circumstance, coming unexpectedly upon us, startles us like something supernatural. But
here it was a further source of alarm, that the enchanted forest
lay so near them, and that their place of abode seemed at present inaccessible to the visit of any human being. While they
were looking upon one another in doubt, the knocking was
again heard, accompanied with a deep groan. The knight
sprang to seize his sword. But the old man said in a low
whispler:
" If it be what I fear it is, no weapon of yours can protect
us."
Undine, in the mean while, went to the door, and cried with
the firm voice of fearless displeasure: "Spirits of the earth!
if mischief be your aim, Kiihleborn shall teach you better
manners."
The terror of the rest was increased by this wild speech;
they looked fearfully upon the girl, and Huldbrand was just.recovering presence of mind enough to ask what she meant,
when a voice reached them from without:
"I am no spirit of the earth, though a spirit still in its
earthly body. You that are within the cottage there, if you
fear God and would afford me assistance, open your door to
me."
By the time these words were spoken, Ufndine had already
opened it; and the lamp throwing a strong light upon the stormy
night, they perceived an aged priest without, who stepped back




UND1NE.                      33
in terror, when his eye fell on the unexpected sight of a little
damsel of such exquisite beauty. Well might he think there
must be magic in the wind, and witchcraft at work, where a
form of such surpassing loveliness appeared at the door of so
humble a dwelling. So he lifted up his voice in prayer:
"Let all good spirits praise the Lord God!"
"I am no spectre," said Undine with a smile. "Do you
think, indeed, I look so very frightful?  And more,-you cannot
but bear me witness yourself, that I am far from shrinking terrified at your holy words. I too have knowledge of God, and
understand the duty of praising him; every one, to be sure, has
his own way of doing this, and this privilege he meant we
should enjoy, when he gave us being. Walk in, father; you
will find none but worthy people here."
The holy man came bowing in, and cast round a glance of
scrutiny, wearing at the same time a very placid and venerable
air. But water was dropping from every fold of his dark garments, from his long white beard, and the white locks of his
hair. The fisherman and the knight took him to another apartment, and furnished him with a change of raiment, while they
handed his own clothes into the room they had left, for the females to dry. The aged stranger thanked them in a manner
the most humble and courteous, but on the knight's offering him
his splendid cloak to wrap round him, he could not be persuaded
to take it, but chose instead an old gray overcoat that belonged
to the fisherman.
They then returned to the common apartment. The mistress of the house immediately offered her great chair to the
priest, and continued urging it upon him, till she saw him fairly
in possession of it. " You are old and exhausted," said she,
"and are moreover a man of God."
Undine shoved under the stranger's feet her little cricket, on
which at other timles she used to sit near to Huldbrand, and
showed herself, in thus promoting the comfort of the worthy old
man, in the highest degree gentle and amiable. On her paying
4




34                      UNDINE.
him these little attentions, Huldbrand whispered some raillery
in her ear, but she replied gravely:
" He is a minister of that Being, who created us all, and
holy things are not to be treated with lightness."
The knight and the fisherman now refreshed the priest with
food and wine; and when he had somewhat recovered his
strength and spirits, he began to relate how he had the day be
fore set out from his cloister, which was situated afar off beyond
the great lake, in order to visit the bishop, and acquaint him
with the distress, into which the cloister and its tributary villages had fallen, owing to the extraordinary floods. After a
long and wearisome wandering, on account of the same rise
of the waters, he had been this day compelled toward evening
to procure the aid of a couple of stout boatmen, and cross over
an arm of the lake which had burst its usual boundary.
"lBut hardly," continued he, "had  our small ferry-boat
touche I the waves, when that furious tempest burst forth, which
is still raging over our heads.  It seemed as if the billows had
been waiting our approach, only to rush upon us with a madness t'Ve more wild. The oars were wrested from the grasp of
my men in an instant; and shivered by the resistless force,
they drove further and further out before us upon the waves.
Unable. to direct our course, we yielded to the blind power of
nature, and seemed to fly over the surges toward your remote
shore, which we already saw looming through the mist and
foam of the deep. Then it was at last, that our boat turned
short from its course, and rocked with a motion that became
more and more wild and dizzy: I know not whether it -was
overset, or the violence of the motion threw me overboard.
In my agony and struggle at the thought of a near and terrible death, the waves bore me onward, till one of them cast me
ashore here beneath the trees of your island."
"Yes, an island!" cried the fisherman.  "A short time ago
it was only a point of land. But now, since the forest-stream
and lake have become all but mad, it appears to be entirely
changed."




(tNDINE.                     35
"I observed something of it," replied the priest, " as I stole
along the shore in the obscurity; and hearing nothing around
me but a sort of wild uproar, I perceived at last, that the noise
came from a point, exactly where a beaten foot-path disap.
peared. I now caught the light in yourcottage, and ventured
hither, where I cannot sufficiently thank my Father in heaven,
that, after preserving me from the waters, he has also conducted me to such pious people as you are; and the more so,
as it is difficult to say, whether I shall ever behold any other
persons in this world except you four."
" What mean you by those words?" asked the fisherman.
" Can you tell me, then, how long this commotion of the elements will last?" returned the holy man. "s And the years of
my pilgrimage are many. The stream of my life may easily
sink into the ground and vanish, before the overflowing of
that forest-stream shall subside. Indeed, taking a general view
of things, it is not impossible, that more and more of the foaming waters may rush in between you and yonder forest, until
you are so far removed from the rest of the world, that your
small fishing-canoe may be incapable of passing over, and the
inhabitants of the continent entirely forget you in your old age
amid the dissipation and diversions of life."
At this melancholy foreboding, the old lady shrunk back
with a feeling of alarm, crossed herself, and cried: " May God
forbid!"
But the fisherman looked upon her with a smile, and said:
"What a strange being is man! Suppose the worst to happen:
our state would not be different, at any rate your own would
not, dear wife, from what it is at present. For have you.
these many years, been further from home than the border of
the forest? And have you seen a single human being besides
Undine and myself?-It is now only a short time since the
coming of the knight and the priest. They will remain with
us, even if we do become a forgotten island; so after all you
will derive the best advantage from the disaster."
"I know not," replied the ancient dame, "it is a dismal




36                      UNDINE.
thought, when brought fairly home to the mind, that we are
forever separated from mankind, even though, in fact, we never
do know nor see them."
" Then you will remain with us, then you will remain with
us!" whispered Undine in a voice scarcely audible and half singing, while with the intense fervour of the heart she nestled
more and more closely to Huldbrand's side. But he was absorbed in the deep and strange musings of his own mind. The
region, on the other side of the forest-river, seemed, since the
last words of the priest, to have been withdrawing further and
Further, in dim perspective, from his view; and the blooming
island on which he lived, grew green and smiled more freshly
befobre the eye of his mind. His bride glowed like the fairest
rose,-not of this obscure nook only, but even of the whole wide
world, and the priest was now present.
Beside these hopes and reveries of love, another circumstance
influenced him: the mistress of the family was directing an
angry glance at the fair girl, because, even in the presence of
the priest, she was leaning so fondly on her darling knight;
and it seemed as if she was on the point of breaking out in harsh
reproof. Then was the resolution of Huldbrand taken; his
heart and mouth were opened; and turning toward the priest,
he said, " Father, you here lee before you an affi-nced pair, and
if this maiden and thede worthy people of the island have no
objection, you shall unice us this very evening."
The aged couple were both exceedingly surprised. They
had often, it is true, thought of this, but as yet they had never
mentioned it; and now when the knight made the attachment
known, it came upon them like something wholly new and unexpected. Undine became suddenly grave, and cast her eyes
upon the floor in a deep reverie, while the priest made inquiries respecting the circumstances of their acquaintance, and
asked the old people whether they gave their consent to the
union. After a great number of questions and answers, the
affair was arranged to the satisfaction of all; and the mistress
of the house went to prepare the bridal apartment for the young




UNDINE.                      37
coiple, and also, with a view to grace the nuptial solemnity
to seek for two consecrated tapers, which she had for a long
time kept by her for this occasion.
The knight in the mean while busied himself about his gold
chain, for the purpose of disengaging two of its links, that he
might make an exchange of rings with his bride. But when
she saw his object, she started from her trance of musing, and
exclaimed:
"Not so! my parents were far from sending me into the
world so perfectly destitute; on the contrary, they must have
foreseen, even at so early a period, that such a night as this
would come."
Thus speaking, she was out of the room in a moment, and a
moment after returned with two costly rings, of which she
gave one to her bridegroom, and kept the other for herself.
The old fisherman was beyond measure astonished at this; and
his wife, who was just re-entering the room, was even more
surprised than he, that neither of them had ever seen these jewels in the child's possession.
" My parents," said Undine, "made me sew these trinkets
to that beautiful raiment, which I wore the very day 1 came to
you.'They also charged me on no account whatever, to mention them to any one before the evening I should be married.
At the time of my coming, therefore, I took them of in secret,
and have kept them concealed to the present hour."
The priest now cut short all further questioning and wondering, while he lighted the consecrated tapers, placed them on
a table, and ordered the bridal pair to stand directly before him.
He then pronounced the few solemn words of the ceremony,
and made them one; the elder couple gave the younger their
blessing; and the bride, slightly trembling and thoughtful,
leaned upon the knight.
The priest then spoke plainly and at once: "You are
strange people after all; for why did you tell me you were the
only inhabitants of the island?  So far is this from being true,
I have seen, the whole time I have been performing the cere



38                     UNDINE.
mony, a tall, stately man, in a white mantle, stand opposite to
ume, looking in at the window. He must be still waiting before the door, if peradventure you would invite him to come
mn."
"God forbid!" cried the old lady, shrinking back; the fish
erman shook his head without opening his lips, and Huldbrand
sprang to the window. It appeared to him, that he could still
discern some vestige of a form, white and indistinct as a vapour, but it soon wholly disappeared in the gloom. He convinced the priest that he must have been quite mistaken in his
impression; and now, inspired with the freedom and familiarity of perfect confidence, they all sat down together round a
bright and comfortable hearth.




UNDINE..9
CHAPTER VII.
What further happened on the evening of the wedding.
BEFORE the nuptial ceremony, and during its performance,
Undine had shown a modest gentleness and maidenly reserve;
but it now seemed as if all the wayward freaks that effervesced
within her, were foaming and bursting forth with an extravagance only the more bold and unrestrained. She teased her
bridegroom, herafoster-parents, and even the priest, whom she
had just now revered so highly, with all sorts of childish tricks
and vagaries; and when the ancient dame was about to reprove her too frolicksome spirit, the knight, by a few serious
and expressive words, imposed silence upon her by calling
Undine his wife.
The knight was himself, indeed, just as little pleased with
Undine's childish behaviour as the rest; but still, all his winking, hemming, and expressions of censure were to no purpose.
It is true, whenever the bride observed the dissatisfaction of her
husband, —and this occasionally happened, —she became more
quiet, placed herself beside him, stroked his face with caressing
fondness, whispered something smilingly in his ear, and in this
manner smoothed the wrinkles that were gathering on his brow.
But the moment after, some wild whim would make her resume
her antic movements, and all went worse than before.
The priest then spoke in a kind, although serious tone: "My
pleasant young friend, surely no one can witness your playful
spirit without being diverted; but remember betimes so to attune your soul, that it may produce a harmony ever in accordance with the soul of your wedded bridegroom."
"SOUL!" cried Undine, with a laugh, nearly allied to one( of
derision; "what you say has a remarkably pretty sound, and




40                       UNDINE.
for most people, too, it may be a very instructive rue and profitable caution. But when a person has no soul at all, how, I pray
you, can such attuning be possible?  And this in truth is just
my condition."
The priest was much hurt, but continued silent in holy dis.
pleasure, and turned away his face from the maiden in sorrow.
She, however, went up to him with the most winning sweetness, and said:
" Nay, I entreat you, first listen to some particulars, before
you frown upon me in anger; for your frown of anger is painful to me, and you ought not to give pain to a creature, that has
itself done nothing injurious to you. Only have patience with
me, and I will explain to you every word of wIhat I meant."
She had come to the resolution, it was evident, to give a full
account of herself, when she suddenly faltered, as if seized with
an inward shuddering, and burst into a passion of tears. They
were none of them able to understand the intenseness of her
feelings, and with mingled emotions of fear and anxiety, they
gazed on her in silence. Then wiping away her tears, and looking earnestly at the priest, she at last said:
" There must be something lovely, but at the same time
something most awful, about a SOUL. In the name of God,
holy man, were it not better that we never shared a gift so mysterious?"1
Again she paused and restrained her tears, as if waiting foi
an answer. All in the cottage had risen from their seats, and
stept back from her with horror. She, however, seemed to have
eyes for no one but the holy man; a fearful curiosity was painted on her features, and this made her emotion appear terrible to
the others.
" Heavily must the soul weigh down its possessor," she pursued, when no one returned her any answer, "very heavily!
for already its approaching image overshadows me with anguish and mourning.  And, alas! I have till now been so merry and light-hearted!"-And she burst into another flood of
tears, and covered her face with her veil




UNDINE.                      41
Th3 priest, going up to her with a solemn look, now addressed
himself to her, and conjured her in the name of God most holy,
if any evil or spirit of evil possessed her, to remove the light
covering from her face. But she sunk before him on her knees,
and repeated after him every sacred expression he uttered,
giving praise to God, and protesting that she wished well to the
whole world.
The priest then spoke to the knight: " Sir bridegroom, I leave
you alone with'her, whom I have united to you in marriage.
So far as I can discover, there is nothing of evil in her, but
of a truth much that is wonderful. What I recommend to you
in domestic life, is prudence, love, and fidelity."
Thus speaking, he left the apartment, and the fisherman with
his wife followed him, crossing themselves.
Undine had sunk upon her knees; she uncovered her face
and exclaimed, while she looked fearfully round upon Huldbrand: "Alas, you will now refuse to look upon me as your
own; and still I have done nothing evil, poor unhappy child
that I am!" She spoke these words with a look so infinitely
sweet and touching, that her bridegroom forgot both the confession that had shocked, and the mystery that had perplexed
him; and hastening to her, he raised her in his arms. She
smiled through her tears, and that smile was like the rosy morn
mag-light playing upon a small stream. "You cannot desert
me!" she whispered with a confiding assurance, and stroked
the knight's cheeks with her little soft hands. He was thus in
some degree withdrawn from those terrible apprehensions, that
still lay lurking in the recesses of his soul, and were persuading
him that he had been married to a fairy, or some spiteful and
mischievous being of the spirit-world; but, after all, only this
single question, and that almost unawares, escaped from his
lips:
" Dearest Undine, pray tell me this one thing; what was it
you meant by'spirits of the earth' and'Kiihleborn,' when the
priest stood knocking at the door?"
" Mere fict;ons! mere tales of children!" answered Undine,




4 2                    UNDINE.
laughing, now quite restored to her wonted gaiety. "I  first
awoke your anxiety with them, and you finally awoke mine
This is the end of the story and of our nuptial evening."
"Nay, not exactly that," replied the enamoured knight, extinguishing the tapers, and a thousand times kissing his beautiful and beloved bride, while, lighted by the moon that shone
brightly through the windows, he bore her into their bridal
apartment.




UNDINE.                      43
CHAPTER VIII.
The Day after the Wedding.
THE fresh light of morning awoke the young married pair.
Undine bashfully hid her face beneath their covering, and
Huldbrand lay lost in silent reflection. Whenever during the
night he had fallen asleep, strange and horrible dreams of
spectres had disturbed him; and these shapes, grinning at him
by stealth, strove to disguise themselves as beautiful females;
and from beautiful females they all at once assumed the appearance of dragons. And when he started up, aroused by the
intrusion of these hideous forms, the moonlight shone pale and
cold before the windows without; he looked affrighted at Undine, in whose arms he had fallen asleep, and she was reposing
in unaltered beauty and sweetness beside him. Then pressing
her rosy lips with a light kiss, he again fell into a slumber, only
to be awakened by new terrors.
When he had now perfectly awoke, and well considered all
the circumstances of this connection, he reproached himself for
any doubt, that could lead him into error in regard to his
lovely wife. He also earnestly begged her to pardon the in
justice he had done her, but she only gave him her fair hand,
heaved a sigh from the depth of her heart, and remained silent.
Yet a glance of fervent tenderness, an expression of the soul
beaming in her eyes, such as he had never witnessed there
before, left him in undoubting assurance, that Undine was innocent of any evil against him whatever.
He then rose with a serene mind, and leaving her, went to
the common apartment, where the inmates of the house had
already met. The three were sitting round the hearth with an
air of anxiety about them, as if they feared trusting themselves
to raise their voice above a low apprehensive undertone. The




44                      UNDINE.
priest appeared to be praying in his inmost spirit, with a view
to avert some fatal calamity.  But when they observed the
young husband come forth so cheer1ul, a brighter hope rose
within them, and dispelled the cloudy traces that remained upon
their brows; yes, the old fisherman began to be facetious with
the knight, but in a manner so perfectly becoming, that his aged
wife herself could not help smiling with great good humour.
Undine had in the mean time got ready, and now entered the
door, when they were all on the point of rushing to meet her,
and yet all remained fixed in perfect admiration, so changed
and at the same time so familiar was the young woman's appearance. The priest, with paternal affection beaming from
his countenance, first went up to her, and as he raised his hand
to pronounce a blessing, the beautiful bride, trembling with religious awe, sunk on her knees before him; she begged his
pardon, in terms both respectful and submissive, for any foolish
things she might have uttered the evening before, and entreated
him, in a very pathetic tone, to pray for the welfare of her soul.
She then rose, kissed her foster-parents, and, after thanking them
for all the kindness they had shown her, said: " 0, I now feel
in my inmost heart, how great, how infinitely great, is what you
have done for me, you dear, dear friends of my childhood!"
At first she was wholly unable to tear herself away from their
affectionate caresses; but the moment she saw the good old
mother busy in getting breakfast, she went to the hearth, applied
herself to cooking the food and putting it on the table, and
would not suffer her to take the least share in the work.
She continued in this frame of spirit the whole day; calm,
kind, attentive; —at the same time a little mistress of a family,
and a tender, modest young woman. The three, who had been
longest acquainted with her, expected every instant to see her
capricious spirit break out in some whimsical change or spoltive
vagary.  But their fears were quite unnecessary.  Undine
continued as mild and gentle as an angel.  The priest found it
all but impossible to remove his eyes from her, and he often said
to the bridegroom




UNDINE.                       45:The bounty of Heaven, Sir, through me its unworthy instrument, entrusted to you last evening an invaluable treasure;
regard and cherish it as you ought to do, and it will promote
your temporal and eternal welfare."
Toward evening, Undine was hanging upon the knight's arm
with lowly tenderness, while she drew him gently out before
the door, where the setting sun shone richly over the fresh grass,
and upon the high, slender boles of the trees. Her emotion was
visible: the dew oi sadness and love swam in her eyes, while a
tender and fearful secret seemed to hover upon her lips; but
sighs, and those scarcely perceptible, were all that made known
the wish of her heart. She led her husband further and further
onward without speaking. When he asked her questions she
replied only with looks, in which, it is true. there appeared to
be no immediate answer to his inquiries, but yet a whole heaven
of love and timid attachment. Thus they reached the margin
of the swollen forest-stream, and the knight was astonished to see
it gliding away with so gentle a murmuring of its waves, that no
vestige of its former swell and wildness was now discernible.
" By morning it will be wholly drained off," said the beautiful woman, almost weeping, " and you will then be able to travel,
without any thing to hinder you, whithersoever you will."
"Not without you, dear Undine," replied the knight, laughing;" for pray remember, even were I disposed to leave you,
both the church and the spiritual powers, the emperor and the
laws of the realm, would require the fugitive to be seized and
restored to you."
" All this depends on you,-all depends on you;" whispered
his little companion, half weeping and half smiling. "But I
still feel sure, that you will not leave me; I love you too deeply
to fear that misery. Now bear me over to that little islan:d,
which lies before us. There shall the decision be made. I
could easily, indeed, glide through that mere rippling of the
water without your aid, but it is so grateful to rest in your
arms; and should you determine to put me away, I shall have
sweetly rested in them once more,... for the last time."




46                        UNDINE.
Huldbrard was so full of strange anxiety and emotion, that
he knew not what answer to make her.  He took her in his
arms and carried her over, now first realizing the fact, that this
was the same little island, from which he had borne her back
to the old fisherman, the first night of his arrival.  On the
further side, he placed her upon the soft grass, and was throwing himself lovingly near his beautiful burden; but she said to
him, " Not here, but there, opposite to me. I shall read my
doom in your eyes, even before your lips pronounce it; now
listen very attentively to what I shall relate to you." And
she began:
" You must know, my own love, that there are beings in the
elements, which bear the strongest resemblance to the human
race, and which, at the same time, but seldom become visible
to you. The wonderful salamanders sparkle and sport amid
the flames; deep in the earth the meagre and malicious gnomes
pursue their revels; the forest-spirits belong to the air, and
wander in the woods; while in the seas, rivers, and streams
live the wide-spread race of water-spirits. These last, beneath
resounding domes of crystal, through which the sky appears
with sun and stars, inhabit a region of light and beauty; lofty
coral trees glow with blue and crimson fruits in their gardens;
they walk over the pure sand of the sea, among infinitely variegated shells, and amid whatever of beauty the old world possessed, such as the present is no more worthy to enjoy;-creations, which the floods covered with their secret veils of silver;
and now these noble monuments glimmer below* stately and
solemn, and bedewed by the water which loves them, and calls
* No reader of English poetry need be reminded of Southey's admirable
description of the submarine City of Baly in his CURSE or KElIAMA:
" In sunlight and sea-green,
The thousand palaces were seen
Of that proud city, whose superb abodes
Seemed reared by giants for the immortal gods.
How silent and how beautiful they stand,
Like things of nature."




UNDINE.                       47
forth from their crevices exquisite moss-flowers ana enwreathing tufts of sedge.
"Now the nation that dwell there, are very fair and lovely
to behold, for the most part more beautiful than human beings.
Many a fisherman has been so fortunate, as to catch a view of
a delicate maiden of the waters, while she was floating and
singing upon the deep. He then spread to remotest shores the
fame of her beauty; and to such wonderful females men are
wont to give the name of Undines. But what need of saying
more?  You, my dear husband, now actually behold an Undine before you."
The knight would have persuaded himself, that his lovely
wife was under the influence of one of her odd whims, and
that she was only amusing herself and him with her extravagant inventions. He wished it might be so. But with whatever power of words he said this to himself, he still could not
credit the hope for a moment; a strange shivering shot through
his soul; unable to utter a word, he gazed upon the sweet
speaker with a fixed eye. She shook her head in distress,
heaved a sigh from her full heart, and then proceeded in the
following manner:
" In respect to the circumstances of our life, we should be far
superior to yourselves, who are another race of the human
family,-for we also call ourselves human beings, as we resemble them in form and features, —had we not one great evil
peculiar to ourselves. Both we, and the beings I have mbntioned as inhabiting the other elements, vanish into air at death,
and go out of existence, spirit and body, so that no vestige of
us remains; and when you hereafter awake to a purer state of
being, we shall remain where sand, and sparks, and wind, and
waves remain. We of course have no souls; the element moves
us, and, again, is obedient to our will, while we live, though it
scatters us like dust, when we die; and as we have notb.Pg to
trouble us, we are as merry as nightingales, little goldfishes, and
other pretty children of nature.
" But all beings aspire to lise in the scale of existence higher




48                       UNDINE.
than they are.  It was therefore the wish of my father, who is
a powerful water-prince in the Mediterranean Sea, that his only
daughter should become possessed of a soul, although she
should have to endure many of the sufferings of those who
share that gift.
" Now the race to which I belong, have no other means of
obtaining a soul, than by forming with an individual of your
own the most intimate union of love. I am now possessed of
a soul, and I, the very soul itself, thank you, dear Huldbrand,
with a warmth of heart beyond expression, and never shall I
cease to thank you, unless you render my whole future life
miserable. For what will become of me, if you avoid and
reject me?  Still I would not keep you as my own by artifice.
And should you decide to cast me off, then do it now,... leave
me here, and return to the shore alone. I will plunge into this
brook, where my uncle will receive me; my uncle, who here
in the forest, far removed from  his other friends, passes his
strange and solitary existence. But he is powerful, as well as
revered and beloved by many great rivers; and as he brought
me hither to our friends of the lake, a light-hearted and laughing child, he will also restore me to the home of my parents, a
woman, gifted with a soul, full of affection, and heir to suffering."
She was about to add something more, when Huldbrand,
with the most heartfelt tenderness and love, clasped her in his
arms, and again bore her back to the shore. There, amid tears
and kisses, he first swore never to forsake his affectionate wife,
and esteemed himself even more happy than the Grecian sculptor, Pygmalion, for whom Venus gave life to his beautiful statue,
and thus changed it into a beloved wife. Supported by his
arm, and in the sweet confidence of affection, Undine returned
to the cottage; and now she first realized with her whole heart,
how little cause she had for regretting what she had left, the
crystal palaces of her mysterious father.




UNDINE.                       49
CHAPTER IX.
How the Knight took his young wife with him.
NEXT morning, when Huldbrand awoke from slumber, and perceived that his beautiful wife was not by his side, he began to
give way again to his wild imaginations: these represented to
him his marriage, and even the charming Undine herself, as
only a shadow without substance, a mere illusion of enchantment. But she entered the door at the same moment, kissed
him. seated herself on the bed by his side, and said:
"I have been out somewhat early this morning, to see
whether my uncle keeps his word. He has already restored
the waters of the flood to his own calm channel, and he now
flows through the forest, a rivulet as before, in a lonely and
dreamlike current. His friends too, both of the water and the.
air, have resumed their usual peaceful tenor; all in this region
will again proceed with order and tranquillity; and you can
travel homeward without fear of the flood, whenever you
choose."
It seemed to the mind of Huldbrand, that he must be
wrapt in some reverie or waking dream, so little was he
able to understand the nature of his wife's strange relative.
Notwithstanding this, he made no remark upon what she
had told him, and the infinite charm of her beauty, gentleness, and affection soon lulled every misgiving to rest.
Some time afterward, while he was standing with her before the door, and surveying the verdant point of land with
its boundary of bright waters, such a feeling of bliss came
over himn in this cradle of his love, that he exclaimed:
"Shall we then, so early as to-day, begin our journey Y
5




50                       UNDINE.
Why should we?  It is probable, that abroad in the world we.hall find no days more delightful, than those we have spent in
this little green isle, so secret and so secure.  Let us remain
here, and see the sun go down two or three times more."
"Just as my lord shall command," replied Undine meekly.
"Only we must remember, that our aged friends will, at all
events, see me depart with pain; and should they now, for the
first time, discover the true soul in me, and how fervently I can
now love and honour them, their feeble eyes would surely become blind with weeping. As yet, they consider my p-,sent
calm and exemplary conduct as of no better promise than my
fbrmer occasional quietness,-merely bhe calm of the lakejust while the air remains tranquil,-and they will soon leani
to cherish a little tree or flower, as they have cherished med.
Let me not,then,make knowr. to them this newly bestowed, this
love-inspired heart, at the very moment they must lose it for this
world; and how could I conceal what I have gained, if we
continued longer together?"
Huldbrand yielded to her representation, and went to the
aged couple to confer with them respecting his journey, on
which he proposed to set out that very hour. The priest offered himself as a companion of the young married pair; and,
after their taking a short farewell, he held the bridle, while the
knight lifted his beautiful wife upon his horse; and with rapid
step they crossed the dry channel with her toward the forest.
Undine wcpt in silent but intense emotion; the old people, as
she moved away, were more clamorous in the expression of
their grief. They appeared to feel, at the moment of separation, all that they were losing in their affectionate fosterdaughter.
The three travellers reached the thickest shades of the forest
without interchanging a word. It must have been a pic-.
turesque sight, in that hall of leafy verdure, to see this lovely
woman's form sitting on the noble and richly ornamented steed,
on her right hand the venerable priest in the white garb of his
order, on her left the blooming young knight, clad in splendid




UNDINE.                       51
raiment of scarlet, gold, and violet, girt with a sword that
flashed in the sun, and attentively walking beside her. Huld.
brand had no eyes but for his fair wife; Undine, who had dried
her tears of tenderness, had no eyes but for him; and they
soon entered into the still and voiceless converse of looks and
gestures, from which after some time they were awakened by
the low discourse, which the priest was holding with a fourth
traveller, who had meanwhile joined them unobserved.
He wore a white gown, resembling in form the dress of the
priest's order, except that his hood hung very low over his face,
and that the whole drapery floated in such wide folds around
him, as obliged him every moment to gather it up and throw it
over his arm, or by some management of this sort to get it out
of his way, and still it did not seem in the least to impede his
movement.  When the young couple became aware of his
presence, he was saying:
"; And so, venerable Sir, many as have been the years I
have dwelt here in this forest, I have never received the name
of hermit in your sense of the word. For, as I said before, I
know nothing of penance, and I think too, that I have no particular need of it. Do you ask me why I am so attached to the
forest? It is because its scenery is so peculiarly picturesque,
and affords me so much pastime, when, in my floating white
garments, I pass through its world of leaves and dusky shadows;-and then a sweet sunbeam glances down upon me, at
times, before I think of it."
" You are a very singular man," replied the priest, " and I
should like to have a more intimate acquaintance with you."
" And who then may you be yourself, to pass from one thing
to another?" inquired the stranger.
"I am  called father Heilmann," answered the holy man,
" and I am from the cloister of our Lady of the Salutation, beyond the lake."
"Well, well," replied the stranger, " my name is Kiihleborn,
and were I a stickler for the nice distinctions of rank, I might
with equal propriety require you to give me the title of noble




52                      UNDINE.
lord of Kiihleborn, or free lord of Kiihleborn, for I arm as free
as a bird in the forest, and, it may be, a trifle more so. For example, I now have something to tell that young lady there.
And before they were aware of his purpose, he was on the
other side of the priest, close to Undine, and stretching himself
high into the air, in order to whisper something in her ear.
But she shrunk from him in terror, and exclaimed:
" I have nothing more to do with you."
"C Ho, ho," cried the stranger, with a laugh, " you have made
a grand marriage indeed, since you no longer know your own
relations!  Have you no recollection of your uncle Kiihle
born, who so faithfully bore you on his back to this region?"
"However that may be," replied Undine, "I entreat you
never to appear in my presence again. I am now afraid of
you; and will not my husband fear and forsake me, if he sees
me associate with such strange company and kindred?"
"' You must not forget, my little niece," said Kiihleborn,
"that I am with you here as a guide; otherwise those madcap
spirits of the earth, the gnomes that haunt this forest, would
play you some of their mischievous pranks. Let me therefore
still accompany you in peace; even the old priest there had a
better recollection of me, than you appear to have; for he just
now assured me, that I seemed to be very familiar to him, and
that I must have been with him in the ferry-boat, out of which
he tumbled into the waves. He certainly did see me there, for
I was no other than the water-spout that tore him out of it, and
kept him from sinking, while I safely wafted him ashore to
your wedding."
Undine and the knight turned their eyes upon father Heilmann; but he appeared to be moving forward, just as if he
were dreaming or walking in his sleep, and no longer to be
conscious of a word that was spoken.  Undine then said to
Kiihleborn: " I already see yonder the end of the forest. We
*", Freiherr," baron. There is something peculiarly whimsical in this
quiet humour of' lord or baron Kiihleborn.'




UNDINE.                       53
have no further need of your assistance, and nothing nlow gives
us alarm but yourself. I therefore beseech you by our muual love and good will, to vanish and allow us to proceed in
peace."
Kiihleborn seemed to be transported with fury at this: he
darted a frightful look at Undine, and grinned fiercely upon
her. She shrieked aloud, and called her husband to protect
her. The knight sprung round the horse as quick as lightning,
and, brandishing his sword, struck at Kiihleborn's head. But,
instead of severing it from his body, the sword merely flashed
through a torrent, which rushed foaming near them from a
lofty cliff; and with a splash, which much resembled in sound
a burst of laughter, the stream all at once poured upon them,
and gave them a thorough wetting. The priest, as if suddenly
awaking from  a trance, coolly observed:  "This is what I
nave been some time expecting, because the brook has descended
from the steep so close beside us,-though at first sight, indeed,
it appeared to look just like a man, and to possess the power of
speech."
As the waterfall came rushing from its crag, it distinctly uttered these words in Huldbrand's ear: " Rash knight! valiant
knight! I am not angry with you; I have no quarrel with you;
only continue to defend your charining little wife with the same
spirit, you bold knight! you rash blade!"
After advancing a few steps further, the travellers came out
upon open ground. The imperial city lay bright before them;
and the evening sun, which gilded its towers with gold, kindly
dried their garments that had been so completely drenched.




54                     UNDINE
CHAPTER X.
How they lived in the city.
THE sudden disappearance of the young knight, Huldbrand
of Ringstetten, had occasioned much remark in the imperial
city, and no small concern among those of the people, who, as
well on account of his expertness in tourney and dance as of
his mild and amiable manners, had become greatly attached to
him. His attendants were unwilling to quit the place without
their master, although not a soul of them had been courageous
enough to follow him into the fearful recesses of the forest.
They remained therefore at their public house, idly hoping, as
men are wont to do, and, by the expression of their fears, keeping the fate of their lost lord fresh in remembrance.
Now when the violent storms and floods had been observed,
immediately after his departure, the destruction of the handsome stranger became all but certain: even Bertalda had quite
openly discovered her sorrow, and detested herself for having
induced him to take that fatal excursion into the forest. Her
foster-parents, the duke and dutchess, had meanwhile come to
take her away, but Bertalda persuaded them to remain with
her until some certain news of Huldbrand should be obtained,
whether he were living or dead. She endeavored also to prevail upon several young knights, who were assiduous in courting
her favour, to go in quest of the noble adventurer in the forest
But she refused to pledge her hand as the reward of the enter
prise, because she still,herished, it might be, a hope of being
claimed by the returning knight; and no one would consent,
for a glove, a ribband, or even a kiss, to expose his life to bring
back so very dangerous a rival.
When Huldbrand now made his sudden and unexpected ap




UINDINE.                      55
pearance, his attendants, the inhabitants of the city, and almost
every one rejoiced: we must acknowledge, indeed, that this
was not the case with Bertalda; for although it might be quite
a welcome event to others, that he brought with him a wife of
such exquisite loveliness, and father Heilmann as a witness of
their marriage, Bertalda could not but view the affair with
grief and vexation. She had in truth become attached to the
young knight with her whole soul, and then her mourning for his
absence, or supposed death, had shown this more than she could
now have wished.
But notwithstanding all this, she conducted herself like a
prudent woman in circumstances of such delicacy, and lived
on the most friendly terms with Undine, whom the whole city
looked upon as a princess, that Huldbrand had rescued in the
forest from some evil enchantment. Whenever any one questioned either herself or her husband relative to surmises of this
nature, they had wisdom enough to remain silent, or wit
enough to evade the inquiries. The lips of father Heilmann
had been sealed in regard to idle gossip of every kind; and
besides, on Huldbrand's arrival, he had immediately returned
to his cloister: so that people were obliged to rest contented
with their own wild conjectures, and even Bertalda herself ascertained nothing more of the truth than others.
For the rest, Undine daily regarded this fair girl with increasing fondness. " We must have been heretofore acquainted
with each other," she often used to say to her, " or else there
must be some mysterious connection between us; for it is
incredible that any one so perfectly without cause,-I mean
without some deep and secret cause,-should be so fondly attached to another, as I have been to you from the first moment
of our meeting."
Even Bertalda could not deny, that she felt a confiding impulse, an attraction of tenderness, toward Undine, much as she
deemed this fortunate rival the cause of her bitterest disappointment. Under the influence of this mutual regard, they
found means to persuade, the one her foster-parents, and the




56                     UNDINE.
other her husband, to defer the day of separation to a period
more and more remote; nay more, they had already begun to
talk of a plan for Bertalda's sometime accompanying Undine
to Castle Ringstetten, near one of the sources of the Darube.
Once on a fine evening, while'hey were promenading the
city by starlight, they happened to be talking over their scheme
just as they passed the high trees, that bordered the public
walk. The young married pair, though it was somewhat late,
had called upon Bertalda to invite her to share their enjoyment; and all three now proceeded familiarly up and down be
neath the dark-blue heaven, not seldom interrupted in their converse by the admiration, which they could not but bestow upon
the magnificent fountain in the middle of the square, and upon
the wonderful rush and shooting upward of its water. All was
sweet and soothing to their minds; among the shadows of the
trees stole in glimmerings of light from the adjacent houses;
a low murmur as of children at play, and of other persons who
were enjoying their walk, floated around them; they were so
alone, and yet sharing so much of social happiness in the bright
and stirring world, that whatever had appeared difficult by day,
now became smooth and easy of its own accord, and the three
friends could no longer see the slightest cause for hesitation in
regard to Bertalda's taking the journey.
At that instant, just as they were fixing the day of their departure, a tall man approached them from the middle of the
square, bowed respectfully to the company, and spoke scinething in the young bride's ear. Though displeased with the
interruption and its cause, she walked aside a few steps with
the strangers and both began to whisper, as it seemed, in a
foreign tongue. Huldbrand thought he recognized the strange
man of the forest; and he gazed upon him so fixedly, that he
neither heard nor answered the astonished inquiries of Bertalda. All at once Undine clapped her hands with delight, and
turned back from the stranger, laughing: he, frequently shaking his head, retired with a hasty step and discontented air.
and descended into the fountain. Huldbrand now felt perfectly




UNDINE.                          57
certain, that his conjecture was correct. But Bertalda asked:
"And what, my dear Undine, did the master of the fountain
wish to say to you?"
The young wife laughed within herself, and made answer:
"The day after to-morrow, my dear child, when the anniversary of your name-day* returns, you shall be informed." And
this was all she could be prevailed upon to disclose. She
merely asked Bertalda to dinner on the appointed day, and requested her to invite her foster-parents; and soon afterward
they separated.
"Kiihleborn?" said Huldbrand to his lovely wife with an
inward shudder, when they had taken leave of Bertalda, and
were now going home through the darkening streets.
"Yes, it was he," answered Undine, " and he would have
wearied me with foolish warnings without end. But in the
midst of them, quite contrary to his intention, he delighted me
with a most welcome piece of news. If you, my dear lord and
husband, wish me to acquaint you with it now, you need only
command me, and I will freely, and from my heart, tell you all
without reserve. But would you confer upon your Undine a
very, very great pleasure, only wait till the day after to-morrow, and then you too shall have your share of the surprise."
The knight was quite willing to gratify his wife, in regard
to what she had asked with so beautiful a spirit; and this spirit
she discovered yet more, for while she was that night falling
asleep, she murmured to herself with a smile: " How she will
rejoice and be astonished at what her master of the fountain
has told me,-the dear, happy Bertalda I"
* Or saint's day. A literary friend, from whose kindness I have derived:he best aid in revising and correcting my version, informs me, that this
term " refers to a German custom of celebrating, not only the birth-day, but
also the name.day, that is, the day which in the almanac bears the person's
Christian name. The old almanacs contained a name for each day in the
year, being either the name of a saint, or some other remarkable personage
in history."




58                      UJNDINE.
CHAPTER XL
Festival of Bertalda's name-day.
THE company were sitting at dinner; Bertalda, adorned with
jewels and flowers without number, the presents of her fosterparents. and friends, and looking like some goddess of Spring,
sat beside Undine and Huldbrand at the head of the table.
When the sumptuous repast was ended, and the dessert was
placed before them, permission was given that the doors should
be left open: this was in accordance with the good old custom
in Germany, that the common people might see and rejoice in
the festivity of their superiors. Among these spectators the
servants carried round cake and wine.
Huldbrand and Bertalda waited with secret impatience for
the promised explanation, and never, except when they could
not well help it, moved their eyes from Undine. But she still continued silent, and merely smiled to herself with secret and heartfelt satisfaction. All who were made acquainted with the promise she had given, could perceive that she was every moment
on the point of revealing a happy secret; and yet, as children
sometimes delay tasting their choicest dainties, she still withheld the communication, with a denial that made it the more
desired. Bertalda and Huldbrand shared the same delightful
feeling, while in anxious hope they were expecting the unknown disclosure, which they were to receive from the lips of
their friend.
At this moment, several of the company pressed Undine to
give them a song. This appeared to her to be quite a welltimed request, and, immediately ordering her lute to be brought,
she sung the following words:




UNDINE.                            59
"Morning so bright.*
Wild-flowers so gay,
Where high grass so dewy
Crowns the wavy lake's border.
"On the meadow's verdant bosom,
What glimmers there so white?
Have wreathe af snowy blossoms,
Soft-floating, fallen from heaven?
"Ah, see! a tender infant!It plays with flowers, unwitting;
It strives to grasp morn's golden beams.O where, sweet stranger, where's your home?
Afar from unknown shores,
The waves have wafted hither
This helpless little one.'Nay, clasp not, tender darling,
With tiny hand the flowers;
No hand returns the pressure,
The flowers are strange and mute.
They clothe themselves in beauty,
They breathe a rich perfume,
* In reading some of the verses of Fouqu6, we cannot but remember the
question of Hamlet to the player,-' Is this a prologue, or the posy of a
ring?' As one example, among many, we may take the original of his
miniature picture here:
" Morgen so hell,
Blumen so bunt,
Griiser so duftig und hoch
An wallenden See's Gestade."
These four little lines, descriptive of the scene of Undine's song, simple as
they are, cost me more trouble in trying to mould them into a fit English
form, than I well like to acknowledge. I made several attempts, without
much success, to translate them to my mind. Among these versions, the
following had the merit of not being the worst:'The morning beams in glory,
Where wild-flowers gaily bloom
Where dewy grass is waving
The lake's fresh marge alqng;
but after all, the more verbal rendering, as it now stands, seemed to be preferable.




60                          UNDINE.
But cannot fold around you
A mother's loving arms;Far, far away that mother's fond embrace.
"Life's early dawn just opening faint,
Your eye yet beaming Heaven's own smile,
So soon your first, best guardians gone;Severe, poor child, your fate,All, all to you unknown.
"A noble duke has cross'd the mead,
And near you check'd his steed's career:
Wonder and pity touch his heart;
With knowledge high and manners pure
He rears you,-makes his castle home your own.
"How great, how infinite, your gain!
Of all the land you bloom the loveliest,
Yet, ah! that first, best blessing,
The bliss of parents' fondness,
You left on strands unknown."
Undine let fall her lute and paused with a melancholy smile;
the eyes of Bertalda's noble foster-parents were filled with tears.," Ah yes, it was so,-such was the morning on which I found
you, poor orphan," cried the duke with deep emotion; "the
beautiful singer is certainly right; still
That first, best blessing,
The bliss of parents' fondness,'
it was beyond our power to give you." —
" But we must hear also, what happened to the poor parents,"
said Undine, as she struck the chords, an! sung:
" Through her chambers roams the mother,
Searching, searching everywhere;
Seeks, and knows not what, with yearning,
Childless home still finding there.
"Childless home!-O sound of anguish
She alone the anguish knows,
There by day who led her dear one,
There who rock'd its night repose.




UNDINE.                           61
"Beechen buds again are swelling.'
Sunshine warms again the shore,
Ah, fond mother, cease your searching,
Comes the loved and lost no more.
"Then when airs of eve are fresh'ning,
-Home the father wends his way,
While with smiles his woe he's veiling,
Gushing tears his heart betray.
"Well he knows, within his dwelling,
Still as death he'll find the gloom,
Only hear the mother moaning, —
No sweet babe to smile him home."
" O tell me, in the name of Heaven tell me, Undine, where
are my parents?" cried the weeping Bertalda.  "You certainly know; you must have discovered them, all wonderful
as you are, for otherwise you would never have thus torn my
heart. Can they be already here? May I believe it possible?" Her eye glanced rapidly over the brilliant company,
and rested upon a lady of high rank, who was sitting next
to her foster-father.
Then, inclining her head, Undine beckoned toward the
door, while her eyes overflowed with the sweetest emotion.
" Where are the poor parents waiting?" she asked; and the
old fisherman, diffident and hesitating, advanced with his wife
from the crowd of spectators. Swift as the rush of hope within them they threw a look of inquiry, now at Undine, and now
at the beautiful lady, who was said to be their daughter.
" It is she! it is she there before you!" exclaimed the restorer of their child, her voice half choked with rapture; and
both the aged parents embraced their recovered daughter,
weeping aloud and praising God.
But, shocked and indignant, Bertalda tore herself from their
arms. Such a discovery was too much for her proud spirit to
* For the epithet'swelling,' I should prefer to read'greening,' as'griinen' is the more picturesque expression of the original, had I found
any authority to justify me in its use.




62                      UNDINE.
bear, —especially at the moment when she had doubtless expected to see her former splendour increased, and when hope was
picturing to her nothing less brilliant than a royal canopy and a
crown. It seemed to her as if her rival had contrived all this,
and with the special view to humble her before Huldbrand and
the whole world. She reproached Undine; she reviled the old
people; and even such offensive words as " deceiver, bribed and
perjured imposters," burst from her lips.
The aged wife of the fisherman then said to herself, but in
a very low voice: " Ah, my God! what a wicked vixen of a
woman she has grown! and yet I feel in my heart, that she is
my child."
The old fisherman, however, had meanwhile folded his
hands, and offered up a silent prayer, that she might not be his
daughter.
Undine, faint and pale as death, turned from the parents to
Bertalda, from Bertalda to the parents; she was suddenly cast
down from all that heaven of happiness, of which she had been
dreaming, and plunged into an agony of terror and disappointment, which she had never known even in dreams.
"Have you a soul? Can you really have a soul, Bertalda?"
she cried again and again to her angry friend, as if with vehement effort she would rouse her from a sudden delirium or some
distracting dream, and restore her to recollection.
But when Bertalda became every moment only more and
more enraged, as the disappointed parents began to weep aloud,
and the company with much warmth of dispute, were espousing opposite sides, she begged with such earnestness and dignity,
for the liberty of speaking in this her husband's dining-hall,
that all around her were in an instant hushed to silence. She
then advanced to the upper end of the table, where, both humbled and haughty, Bertalda had seated herself, and, while every
eye was fastened upon her, spoke in the following manner:
"My friends, you appear dissatisfied and disturbed; and you
are interrupting with your strife a festivity,that I had hoped
would bring joy both to you and myself. Ah, mv God I J




UNDINE.                       63
knew nothing of these your heartless maxims. these your un
natura' ways of thinking, and never so long as I live, i fear,
shall I become reconciled to them. The disclosure 1 have
made, it seems, is unwelcome to you; but I am not to blame
Ibr such a result. Believe me, little as you may imagine this
to be the case, it is wholly owing to yourselves. One word
more, therefore, is all I have to add, but this is one that must
be spoken:-L- have uttered nothing but truth. Of the certainty
of the fact I give you the strongest assurance; no other proof
can I or will I produce; but this I will affirm in the presence
of God. The person who gave me this information, was the
very same who decoyed the infant Bertalda into the water, and
who, after thus taking her from her parents, placed her on the
green grass of the meadow, where he knew the duke was to
pass.)"
" She is an enchantress," cried Bertalda, "a witch, that has
intercourse with evil spirits. This she acknowledges herself."
~" Never! I deny it," replied Undine, while a whole heaven
of innocence and truth beamed from her eyes. "I am no
witch; look upon me, and say if I am."
"Then she utters both falsehood and folly," cried Bertalda,
"and she is unable to prove that I am the child of these low
people. My noble parents, I entreat you to take me from this
company, and out of this city, where they do nothing but expose me to shame."
But the aged duke. a man of honourable feeling, remained
unmoved, and his lady remarked: " We must thoroughly examine into this matter. God forbid, that we should move a ster
from this hall, before we do so."
Encouraged by this kind word, the aged wife of the fisherman drew near, made a low obeisance to the dutchess, and said:
" Exalted and pious lady, you have opened my heart. Permit
me to tell you, that if this evil-disposed maiden is my daughter,
she has a mark, like a violet, between her shoulders, and another
of the same kind on the instep of her left foot. If she will only
consent to go out of the hall with me —"




64                      UNDINE.
"I will not consent to uncover myself before the peasant
woman," interrupted Bertalda, haughtily turning her back upon
her.
"But before me you certainly will," replied the dutchess,
gravely. "You will follow me into that room, young woman,
and the worthy old lady shall go with us."
The three disappeared, and the rest continued where they
were, in the hush of breathless expectation. In a.ew minutes
the females returned, Bertalda pale as death, and the dutchess
said: "Justice must be done; I therefore declare, that our lady
hostess has spoken the exact truth. Bertalda is the fisherman's
daughter; no further proof is required; and this is all, of which
on the present occasion you need to be informed."
The princely pair went out with their adopted daughter; the
fisherman, at a sign from the duke, followed them with his wife.
The other guests retired in silence, or but half suppressing their
murmurs, while Undine, weeping as if her heart would break,
sunk into the arms of Huldbrand.




UNDINE.                        65
CHAPTER XII.
How they departed from the city.
THE lord of Ringstetten would certainly have been more gratified, had the events of this day been different; but even such
as they now were, he could by no means look upon them as
unwelcome, since his fair wife had discovered so much natural
feeling, kindness of spirit, and cordial affection.
" If I have given her a soul," he could not help saying to
himself, "I have assuredly given her a better one than my
own;" and now what chiefly occupied his mind, was to soothe
and comfort his weeping wife, and even so early as the morrow
to remove her from a place, which, after this cross accident,
could not fail to be distasteful to her. Yet it is certain, that
the opinion of the public concerning her was not changed. As
something extraordinary had long before been expected of her,
the mysterious discovery of Bertalda's parentage had occasioned
little or no surprise; and every one who became acquainted
with Bertalda's story, and with the violence of her behaviour
on that occasion, was only disgusted and set against her. Of
this state of things, however, the knight and his lady were as
yet ignorant; besides, whether the public condemned Bertalda
or herself, the one view of the affair would have been as distressing to Undine as the other; and thus they came to the
conclusion, that the wisest course they could take, was to
leave behind them the walls of the old city with all the speed
in their power.
With the earliest beams of morning, a brilliant carriage,
for Undine, drove up to the door of the inn; the horses of
Huldbrandand his attendants stood near stamping the pavement, impatient to proceed.  The knight was leading his
6




66                      UNDINE.
beautiful wife from the door, when a fisher-girl came up and
met them in the way.
" We have no occasion for your fish," said Huldbrand, accosting her, " we are this moment setting out on a journey."
Upon this the fisher-girl began to weep bitterly, and then it
was that the young couple first knew her to be Bertalda. They
immediately returned with her to their apartment, where she
informed them, that, owing to her unfeeling and violent conduct
of the preceding day, the duke and dutchess had been so displeased with her, as entirely to withdraw from her their protection, though not before giving her a generous portion. The
fisherman, too, had received a handsome gift, and had, the
evening before, set out with his wifefortheir peninsula.
"I would have gone with them," she pursued, " but the old
fisherman, who is said to be my father,"- -
" He certainly is your father, Bertalda," said Undine, interrupting her. " Pray consider what I tell you: the stranger,
whom you took for the master of the water-works, gave me all
the particulars. He wished to dissuade me from taking you
with me to Castle Ringstetten, and therefore disclosed to me the
whole mystery."
" Well then," continued Bertalda, "my father,-if it must
needs be so,-my father said:' I will not take you with me
until you are changed. If you will leave your home here in
the city, and venture to come to us alone through the ill-omened
forest, that shall be a proof of your having some regard for us.
But come not to me as a lady; come merely as a fisher-girl.'
-I will do, therefore, just what he commanded me; for since
I am abandoned by all the word, I will live and die in solitude,
a poor fisher-girl with parents equally poor. The forest, indeed, appears very terrible to me. Horrible spectres make it
their haunt, and I am so timorous. But how can I help it?I have only come here at this early hour, to beg the noble lady
of Ringstetten to pardon my unbecoming behaviour of yesterday. Dear madam, I have the fullest persuasion, that you
meant to do me a kindness, but you were not aware, how




UNDINE.                          67
severely you  would  wound  and injure me; and this was
the reason, that, in my agony and surprise, so many rash and
frantic expressions burst from  my lips.-Forgive me, ah forgive me! I am in truth so unhappy already. Do but consider what I was only yesterday morning, what I was even at
the beginning of your yesterday's festival, and what I am at
the present moment!"Her words now became- inarticulate, lost in a passionate flow
of tears, while Undine, bitterly weeping with her, Iell upon her
neck. So powerful was her emotion, that it was a long time
before she could utter a word. But at length she said:
": You shall still go with us to Ringstetten; all shall remain
just as we lately arranged it; only, in speaking to me, pray
continue to use the familiar and affectionate terms,* that we
have been wont to use, and do not pain me with the sound of'madam' and'noble lady,' any more.  Consider, we were
changed for each other, when we were children; even then we
were united by a like fate, and we will strengthen this union
with such close affection, as no human power shall dissolve.
Only first of all you must go with us to Ringstetten. In what
manner we shall share our sisterly enjoyments there, we will
leave to be talked over after we arrive."
Bertalda looked up to Huldbrand with timid inquiry. He
pitied the fair girl in her affliction, took her hand, and begged
her, tenderly, to entrust herself to him and his wife.
" We will send a message to your parents," continued he,
" giving them the reason why you have not come; —and he
would have added much more about his worthy friends of the
peninsula, when, perceiving that Bertalda shrunk in distress at
0 The words of the original are, " nur nenne mich wieder Do," " only do
call me THOU again." The use of the personal pronouns, thou and thee, so
familiar and endearing in the German idiom, gives an entirely different impression in English. In the conversations of this tale, examples of this
peculiarity occur on almost every page.  The translator has of course
avoided a mode of expression, which most of his readers would feel to be
stiff, strange, and unsuitable.




68                      UNDINE.
the mention of them, he refrained. Then taking her under the
arm, as they left the room, he lifted her first into the carriage,
after her Undine, and was soon riding blithely beside them; so
persevering was he, too, in urging forward their driver, that in
a short time they had left behind them the limits of the city,
and with these a crowd of painful recollections; and now
the ladies experienced a satisfaction, more and more exquisite,
as their carriage rolled on through the picturesque scenes,
which their progress was continually presenting.
After a journey of some days, they arrived, on a fine evening, at Castle Ringstetten. The young knight being much engaged with the overseers and menials of his establishment, Undine and Bertalda were left alone. Eager for novelty, they
took a walk upon the high rampart of the fortress, and were
charmed with the delightful landscape, which fertile Suabia
spread around them. While they were viewing the scene, a
tall man drew near, who greeted them with respectful civility,
and who seemed to Bertalda much to resemble the director of
the city fountain. Still less was the resemblance to be mistaken, when Undine, indignant at his intrusion, waved him off
with an air of menace; while he, shaking his head, retreated
with rapid strides, as he had formerly done, then glided among
the trees of a neighbouring grove, and disappeared.
"Do not be terrified, dear Bertalda," said Undine; "the
hateful master of the fountain shall-do you no harm this time."
And then she related to her the particulars of her history, and
who she was herself,-how Bertalda had been taken away from
the people of the peninsula, and Undine left in her place. This
relation, at first, filled the young maiden with amazement and
alarm; she imagined her friend must be seized with a sudden
madness. But, from the consistency of her story, she became
more and more convinced that all was true, it so well agreed
with former occurrences, and still more convinced from that
inward feeling, with which truth never fails to make itself
known to us. She could not but view it as an extraordinary
circumstance, that she was herself now living, as it were, in




UNDINE.                      69
the midst of one of those wild fictions of romance, which she
had formerly heard related for mere amusement. She gazed
upon Undine with awe, but could not avoid feeling a shudder,
which seemed to separate her from her friend; and she could
not but wonder when the knight, at their evening repast, showed himself so kind and full of love toward a being, who appeared, after the discoveries just made, more like a phantom of
the spirit-world than one of the human race.




70                        UNDINE.
CHAPTER  XIII.
/How they lived at Castle Ringstetten.
THE writer of this history, because it moves his own heart, and
he wishes it may equally move the hearts of others, begs you,
dear reader, to grant him a single favour.  Excuse him, if he
now passes over a considerable period of tilne, and gives you
only a general account of its events. He is well aware, that,
perfectly conforming to the rules of art and step by step, he might
delineate the process by which Huldbrand's warmth of attachment for Undine began to decline, and to be transferred to
Bertalda; how Bertalda gradually became more and more attached, and met the young man's glance with the glow of love;
how they both seemed rather to fear the poor wife, as a being
of another species, than to sympathize with her; how Undine
wept, and her tears produced remorse in the knight's heart, yet
without awakening his former tenderness, so that his treatment
of her would discover occasional impulses of kindness, but a
cold shuddering would soon drive him from her side, and he
would hasten to the society of Bertalda, as a more congenial
being of his own race; —all this, the writer is aware, he could
describe with the minute touches of truth, and perhaps this is
the course that he ought to pursue. But his heart would feel
the task to be too melancholy; for, having suffered calamities
of this nature, he is impressed with terror even at the remembrance of their shadows.
You have probably experienced a similar feeling yourself,
my dear reader, for such is the inevitable allotment of mortal
man. Happy are you, if you have rather endured than inflicted this misery, since, in matters of this kind, more blessed
is he that receives than he that gives. For when you have




UNDINE.                        71
been the suffering party, and such remembrances come over
the mind, only a soft pensiveness steals into the soul, and perhaps a tender tear trickles down your cheek, while you regret
the fading of the flowers, in which you once took a delight
so exquisite. But of this no more; we would not linger over
the evil, and pierce our hearts with pangs a thousand-fold repeated, but just briefly hint the course of events, as I said
before.
Poor Undine was extremely distressed, and the other two
were far from being happy; Bertalda in particular, whenever
she was in the slightest degree opposed in her wishes, attributed
the cause to the jealousy and oppression of the injured wife.
In consequence of this suspicious temper, she was daily in the
habit of discovering a haughty and imperious demeanour, to
which Undine submitted in sad and painful self-denial; and,
such was the blind delusion of Huldbrand, he usually supported
the impropriety in the most decisive terms.
What disturbed the inmates of the castle still more, was the
endless variety of wonderful apparitions, which assailed Huldbrand and Bertalda in the vaulted passages of the building, and
of which nothing had ever been heard before within the memory of man.  The tall white man, in whom Huldbrand but
too weii recognized Undine's uncle Kiihleborn, and Bertalda
the spectral master of the water-works, often passed before them
with threatening aspect and gestures; more especially, however, before Bertalda, so that she had already several times
fainted or fallen ill through terror, and had in consequence frequently thought of quitting the castle. But partly owing to
her excessive fondness for Huldbrand, as well as to a reliance
on what she termed her innocence, since no declaration of mutual attachment had ever been distinctly made, and partly also
because she knew not whither to direct her steps, she lingered
where she was.
The old fisherman, on receiving the message from the lord
of Ringstetten, that Bertalda was his guest, returned answer in
some lines almost too illegible to be deciphered. but still the




72                      UNDINE.
best his advanced life and long disuse of writing permitted him
to form.
"I have now become," he wrote, "a poor old widower, for
my beloved and faithful wife is dead. But lonely as I now sit
in my cottage, I prefer Bertalda's remaining where she is, to
her living with me. Only let her do nothing to hurt my dear
Undine, —otherwise she will have my curse."
The last words of this letter Bertalda flung to the winds;
but the permission to remain from home, which her father had
granted her, she remembered and clung to, just as we are all
of us wont to do in like circumstances.
One day, a few moments after Huldbrand had ridden out,
Undine called together the domestics of the family, and ordered
them to bring a large stone, and carefully to cover with it a
magnificent fountain, that was situated in the middle of the
castle court. The servants ventured to hint as an objection,
that it would oblige them to bring their water from the valley
below, which was at an inconvenient distance. Undine smiled
with an expression of melancholy.
"I am sorry, dear children," replied she, " to increase your
labour; I would rather bring up the water-vessels myself;
but this fountain must indeed be closed. Believe me when I
say, that it must be done, and that only by doing it can we
avoid a greater evil."
The domestics were all rejoiced to gratify their gentle mistress; and making no further inquiry, they seized the enormous stone. While they were raising it in their hands, and
were now on the point of adjusting it over the fountain, Bertalda came running to the place, and cried with an air of command, that they must stop; that the water she used, so improving to her complexion, she was wont to have brought
from this fountain, and that she would by no means allow it to
be closed.
This time, however, while Undine showed her usual gentleness, she showed more than her usual resolution, and remained firm to her purpose: she said it belonged to her, as mistress




UNDINE.                        73
of thle castle, to direct the regulations of the household according to her own best judgment, and that she was accountable in
thi, to no one but her lord and husband.
"See, 0 pray, see!" exclaimed the dissatisfied and indignant
Bertalda, "how the beautiful water is curling and curving,
winding and waving there, as if disturbed at being shut out
from the bright sunshine, and from the cheerful view of the
human countenance, for whose mirror it was created."
In truth, the water of the fountain was agitated, aLd foaming,
and hissing in a surprising manner; it seemed as if there were
something within, possessing life and will, that was struggling
to free itself from  confinement.  But Undine only the more
earnestly urged on the accomplishment of. her commands. This
earnestness was scarcely required.  The servants of the castle
were as happy in obeying their sweet-tempered lady, as in opposing the haughty spirit of Bertalda; and with whatever rudeness the latter might scold and threaten, still the stone was in a
few minutes lying firm over the opening of the fountain. Un
dine leaned thoughtfully over it, and wrote with her beautiful
fingers on the fiat surface. She must, however, have had something very acrid and corrosive in her hand; for when she
retired, and the domestics went up to examine the stone, they
discovered various strange characters upon it, which none of
them had seen there before.
When the knight returned home toward evening, Bertalda
received him with tears and complaints of Undine's conduct.
He threw a severe look at his poor wife, and she cast down her
eyes in distress. Still she spoke with great firmness: " My lord
and husband, you never reprove even a bond-slave, before you
hear his defence,-how much less then your wedded wife!"
"Speak, what moved you to this singular conduct?" said the
knight, with a gloomy countenance.'I I could wish to tell you, when we are entirely alone," said
Undine, with a sigh.
" You can tell me equally well in the presence of Bertalda,"
he replied.




74                        UNDINE.
" Yes, if you command me," said Undine, "but do not com
mand me. Pray, pray, do not!"
She looked so humble, affectionate, and obedient, that the
heart of the knight was touched and softened, as if he felt the
Influence of a ray from better times. He kindly took her arm
within his, and led her to his apartment, where she spoke as
follows:
" You already know something, my beloved lrd, of Kiihle.
born, my evil-disposed uncle, and have often felt displeasure at
meeting him in the passages of this castle. Several times has
he terrified Bertalda even to swooning. He does this, because
he possesses no soul, being a mere elementary mirror of the
outward world, while of the world within he can give no reflection. Then, too, he sometimes observes, that you are displeased
with me, that in my childish weakness 1 weep at this, and that
Bertalda, it may be, is laughing at the same moment. Hence
it is, that he conceives every sort of wrong and unkindness to
exist, and in various ways mixes with our circle unbidden,
What do I gain by reproving him? by showing displeasure,
and sending him away? He does not believe a word I say.
His poor imperfect nature affords him no conception, that the
pains and pleasures of love have so mysterious a resemblance
and are so intimately connected, that no power on earth is ab)le
to separate them. Even in the midst of tears, a smile is dawning on the cheek, and smiles call forth tears from their secret
recesses."
She looked up at Huldbrand, smiling and weeping; and he
again felt within his heart all the magic of his former love.
She perceived it, and pressed him more tenderly to her, while
with tears of joy she went on thus:
"When the disturber of our peace would not be dismissed
with words, I was obliged to shut the door upon him; and the
only entrance by which he has access to us, is that fountain.
IIis connexion with the other water-spirits, here in this region, is
ut off by the valleys that border upon us, and his kingdom first
ominences further off on the Danube, in whose tributary streams




UNDINE.                        75
some of his good friends have their abode. For this reason I
caused the stone to be placed over the opening of the fountain,
and inscribed characters upon it, which baffle all the efforts
of my suspicious and passionate uncle, so that he now has
no power of intruding either upon you, or me, or Bertalda.
lHuman beings, it is true, notwithstanding the characters I have
inscribed there, are able to raise the stone without any extraordinary trouble; there is nothing to prevent threm. If you
choose, therefore, remove it according to Bertalda's desire, but
she assuredly knows not what she asks. The rude Kiihleborn
looks with peculiar ill-will upon her; and should much come
to pass that he has imperfectly predicted to me, and which may
well happen without your meaning any evil,-I fear, I fear,
my dear husband, that you yourself would be exposed to peril."
Huldbrand felt the generosity of his amiable wife in the depth
of his heart, since she had been so active in confining her formidable defender, and even at the very moment she was reproached for it by Bertalda. Influenced by this feeling, he
pressed her in his arms with the tenderest affection, and said
with emotion:' The stone shall remain unmoved; all remains
and ever shall remain, just as you choose to have it, my dear,
very dear Undine!"
At these long withheld expressions of tenderness, she returned
hiz caresses with lowly delight, and at length said: " My dearest
husband, since you are so very kind and indulgent to-day, may I
venture to ask a favour of you? Pray observe, it is with you as
with Summer. Even amid its highest splendour, Summer puts
on the flaming and thundering crown of glorious tempests, in
which it strongly resembles a king and god on earth. You too
are sometimes; terrible in your rebukes; your eyes flash lightning, while thunder resounds in your voice; and although this
may be quite becoming to you, I in my folly cannot but sometimes weep at it. But never, I entreat you, behave thus toward
me on a river, or even when we are near a piece of water. For
if you should, pray consider what the consequences will be:
my relations would acquire a right to exercise authority over




76                      UNDINE.
me. They would tear me from you in their fury with inexorable force, because they would conceive that one of their race
was injured; and I should be compelled, as long as I lived, to
dwell below in the crystal palaces, and never dare ascend to
you again; or should they send me up to you,-O God! that
would be infinitely more deplorable still. No, no, my beloved
husband, let it not come to that, if your poor Undine is dear to
you.
He solemnly promised to do as she desired, and, inexpressibly
happy and full of affection, the married pair returned from the
apartment. At this very moment, Bertalda came with some
work-people, whom she had meanwhile ordered to attend her,
and said with a fretful air, which she had assumed of late:" Well, now the secret consultation is at an end, it is to be
hoped the stone may come down. Go out, workmen, and execute your business."
The knight, however, highly resenting her impertinence, said
in brief and very decisive terms: " The stone remains where
it is." He reproved Bertalda also for the vehemence that she
had shown toward his wife. Whereupon the workmen, smiling
with secret satisfaction, withdrew; while Bertalda, pale with
rage, hurried away to her room.
When the hour of supper came, Bertalda was waited for in
vain. They sent for her; but the domestic found her apartments empty, and brought back with him only a sealed billet,
addressed to the knight. Trembling with alarm, he tore it
open, and read:
" I feel with shame, that I am only the daughter of a poor
fisherman. That I for one moment forgot this, I will make
expiation in the miserable hut of my parents. Farewell to you
and your beautiful wife!"
Undine was troubled at heart. Most earnestly she entreated
Huldbrand to hasten after their friend, who had flown, and
bring her back with him. Alas! she had no occasion to urge
him. His passion for Bertalda again burst forth with vehemence. He hurried round the castle, inquiring whether any




UNDINE.                      77
one had seen which way the fair fugitive had gone. He could
gain no information, and was already in the court on his horse,
determining to take at a venture the road by which he had
conducted Bertalda to the castle; when there appeared a shieldboy, who assured him, that he had met the lady on the path to
the Black Valley. Swift as an arrow, the knight sprung through
the gate in the direction pointed out, without hearing Undine's
voice of agony, as she cried after him from the window:
" To the Black Valley? O not there! Huldbrand, not there!
or if you will go, for Heaven's sake take me with you!"
But when she perceived that all her calling was of no avail
she ordered her white palfrey to be instantly saddled, and followed the knight without permitting a single servant to accompany her.




78                      UNDINE
CHAPTER XIV.
How Bertalda returned with the Knight.
THE Black Valley lies secluded far among the mountains.
What its present name may be, I am unable to say. At the
time of which I am speaking, the country-people gave it this
appellation from the deep obscurity produced by the shadows
of lofty trees, more especially by a crowded growth of firs, that
covered this region of moor-land. Even the brook, which gushed
out among the crags, and wound its way down a ravine into the
valley, assumed there the same dark hue, and showed nothing
of that cheerful aspect which streams are wont to wear, that
have the blue sky immediately over them.
It was now the dusk of evening, and the view between the
heights had become extremely wild and gloomy. The knight,
in great anxiety, skirted the border of the brook; he was at
one time fearful, that by delay he should allow the fugitive to
advance too far before him; and then again, in his too eager
rapidity, he was afraid he might somewhere overlook and pass
by her, should she be desirous of concealing herself from his
search. He had in the mean time penetrated pretty far into
the valley, and might hope soon to overtake the maiden, provided he were pursuing the right track. The fear, indeed,
that he might not as yet have gained this track, made his heart
beat with more and moreof anxiety. In the stormy night, which
was now impending, and which always hovered more fearfully
over this valley, where would the delicate Bertalda shelter herself, should he fail to find her? At last, while these thoughts
we:e darting across his mind, he saw something white glimmer
through the branches on the ascent of the mountain. He felt
quite certain, that the object he discerned was Bertalda's robe.




UNDINE.                       79
and he directed his course toward it. But his horse refused to go
forward; he reared with a fury so uncontrollable, and his master
was so unwilling to lose a moment, that (especially as he saw
the thickets were altogether impassable on horseback) he dismounted, and, having fastened his snorting steed to an elm.
worked his way with caution through the matted underwood.
The branches, moistened by the cold drops of the evening dew,
keenly smote his forehead and cheeks; thunder muttered remotely from the further side of the mountains; and every
thing put on so strange and mystic an appearance, that he began to feel a dread of the white figure, which now lay only a
short distance from him upon the ground. Still he could see
with perfect clearness, that it was a female, either asleep or in
a swoon, and dressed in long white garments, such as Bertalda
had worn the past day. Approaching quite near to her, he
made a rustling with the branches and a ringing with his sword,
-but she did not move.
" Bertalda!" he cried; at first low, then louder and louder;
still she heard him not. At last, when he uttered the dear name
with an energy yet more powerful, a hollow echo, from the
mountain-summits around the valley, returned the deadened
sound, 1"BERTALDA!" Still the sleeper continued insensible.
He stooped low, with a view to examine her countenance, but
the duskiness of the valley and the obscurity of twilight would
not allow him to distinguish her features. While with painful
uncertainty he was bending over her, a flash of lightning sud
denly shot across the valley. By this stream of light, he saw a
frightfully distorted visage close to his own, and a hoarse voice
struck him with startling abruptness:  "You enamoured shepherd, give me a kiss!"
Huldbrand sprang upon his feet with a cry of horror, and the
hideous figure rose with him.
"Home!" it cried with a deep murmur; "the fiends are
abroad. Home! or I have you!" And it stretched toward
him its long white arms.
" Malicious Kiihleborn," exclaimed the knight with restored




80                        UNDINE.
energy, " if Kiihleborn you are, what business have you here I
— what's your will, you goblin!-There, take your kiss l"And in fury he flashed his sword at the form. But the form
vanished like vapour; and a rush of water, giving the knight
as good a drenching as wetting him to the skin could make it,
left him in no doubt with what foe he had been engaged.
He wishes to frighten me back from my pursuit of Bertalda," said he to himself; "he imagines, that I shall be terrified
at his senseless enchantments, and resign the poor distressed
girl to his power, so that he can wreak his vengeance upon her
at will. But, impotent spirit of the flood! he shall find himself
mistaken. What the heart of man can do, when it exerts the
full force of its will, the strong energy of its noblest powers, of
this the feeble enchanter has no comprehension."
He felt the truth of his words, and that, in thus giving utterance to his thoughts, he had inspired his heart with fresh
courage. Fortune too appeared to favour him; for, before
reaching his fastened steed, he distinctly heard the voice of
Bertalda, where she was now weeping and now moaning not
far before him, amid the roar of the thunder and the tempest,
which every moment increased. He flew swiftly toward the
sound, and found the trembling maiden, just as she was attempting to climb the steep, and striving, to the extent of her
power, to escape from the dreadful darkness of this valley.
[He stepped before her, while he spoke in tones of the most
soothing tenderness; and bold and proud as her resolution had
so lately been, she now felt nothing but the liveliest joy, that
the man, whom she so passionately loved, would rescue her from
this frightful solitude, and extending to her his arms of welcome
would still cast a brightness over her existence in their reunion at the castle. She followed almost unresisting, but so
spent with fatigue, that the knight was glad to support her to
his horse, which he now hastily unfastened from the elm: his
intention was to lift the fair wanderer upon him, and then to
lead him carefully by the reins through the uncertain shades
of this lowland tract.




UNDINE.                       81
But, owing to the mad appearance of Kiihleborn, the horse
had become altogether unmanageable.  Rearing and wildly
snorting as he was, the knight must have used uncomamon effort
to mount the beast himself; to place the trembling Bertalda
upon him was impossible.  They were compelled, therefore, to
return home on foot. While with one hand the knight drew
the steed after him by the bridle, he supported the Tottering Bertalda with the other. She exerted all the strength she had remaining, in order to escape from this vale of terrors as speedily as possible; but weariness weighed her down like lead, and
a universal trembling seized her limbs, partly in consequence
of what she had suffered from the extreme harassment with
which Kiihleborn had pursued her, and in part from her continual fear, arising from the roar of the tempest and thunder
amid the mountain forest.
At last she blid from the arm of her conductor; and, sinking
upon the moss, she said: "I can no more; let me lie here, my
noble lord. I suffer the punishment due to my folly, and nothing
can save me now; I must perish here through faintness and
dismay."
" Never, my sweet friend, will I leave you," cried Huldbrand, vainly trying to restrain the furious animal he was leading; for the horse was all in a foam, and began to chafe more
ungovernably than before, till the knight was glad merely to
keep him at such a distance from the exhausted maiden, as
would secure her from still greater fear and alarm. But hardly
had he withdrawn five steps with the frantic steed, when she
began to call after him in the most sorrowful accents, fearful
that he would actually leave her in this horrible wilderness.
He was wholly at a loss what course to take. Gladly would
he have given the enraged beast his liberty,-he would have
let him rush away amid the night, and exhaust his fury,-had
he not shuddered at the thought, that in this narrow defile his
iron-shod hoofs might come trampling and thundering over the
very spot where Bertalda lay.
While he was in this extreme peril and embarrassment, a feel7




82                      UNDINE.
ing of delight, not to be expressed, shot through him, when he
heard the rumbling wheels of a wagon, as it came slowly descending the stony slope behind them.  He called out for help
answer was returned in the deep voice of a mati, bidding them
have patience, but promising assistance; and tawo horses of
grayish wnite soon after shone through the Lushes, and near
them their driver in the white frock of a carter; and next appeared a great sheet of white linen, with which the goods he
seemed to be conveying, were covered. The whitish grays,
in obedience to a shout from their master, stood still. He came
up to the knight, and aided him in checking the fury of the
foaming charger.
"I know well enough," said he, " what is the matter with
the brute. The first time I travelled this way, my horses were
just as wilful and headstrong as yours. The reason is, there
is a water-spirit haunts this valley, and a wicked wight they
say he is, who takes delight in mischief and witcheries of this
sort. But I have learned a charm; and if you will let me
whisper it in your horse's ear, he will stand just as quiet as my
silver grays there."
" Try your luck, then, and help us as quick as possible!"
said the impatient knight.
Upon this the wagoner drew down the head of the rearing
courser close to his own, and spoke some half-dozen words in
his ear. The animal instantly stood still and subdued; only
his quick panting and smoking sweat showed his recent violence.
Huldbrand had little time to inquire, by what means this
had been effected. He agreed with the man, that he should
take Bertalda in his wagon, where, as he said, a quantity of soft
cotton was stowed, and he might in this way convey her to
Castle Ringstetten; the knight could accompany them on
horseback. But the horse appeared to be too much exhausted
to carry his master so far. Seeing this, the man advised him
to mount the wagon with Bertalds. The horse could be tied to
it behind.




UNDINE.                        83
"It is down hill," said he, "and the load for my grays will
therefore be light."
The knight accepted his offer, and entered the wagon with
Bertalda; the horse followed quietly after, while the wagoner,
sturdy and attentive, walked beside them.
Amid the silence and deepening obscur ty of the night, the
tempest became more and more remote and hushed; in the corn
fortable feeling of their security and their commodious passage, a
confidential conversation arose between Huldbrand and Bertalda. He reproved her in the most gentle and affectionate terms
for her resentful flight; she excused herself with humility and
feeling; and from every tone of her voice it was evident, —just
as a lamp guides a lover amid the secrecy of night to his waiting mistress,-that she still cherished her former affection for
him. The knight felt the sense of what she said far more than
the words themselves, and he answered simply to this sense,to the feeling and not the confession of. love.
In the midst of this interchange of murmured feelings, the
wagoner suddenly shouted with a startling voice: " Up, my
grays, up with your feet! Hey, my hearts, now together, show
your spirit! Do it handsomely! remember who you are!"
The knight bent over the side of the wagon, and saw that the
horses had dashed into the midst of a foaming stream, and were,
indeed, almost swimming, while the wheels of the wagon were
rushing round and flashing like mill-wheels, and the teamster
had got on before to avoid the swell of the flood.
" What sort of a road iE this?  It leads into the middle of the
stream!" cried Huldbrand to his guide.
" Not at all, Sir," returned he with a laugh, " it is just the
contrary. The stream is running in the middle of our road.
Only look about you, and see how all is overflowed."
The whole valley, in fact, was covered and in comr otion, as
the waters, suddenly raised and visibly rising, swt;pt over it.
"It is Kiihleborn, that devil of a water-spirit, who wishes to
drown us!" exclaimed the knight.  "Have you nc charm of
protection against him, companion?"




84                      UNDINE.
" Charm! to be sure I have one," answered the wagoner
"but! cannot and must not make use of it, before you know
who I am."
"Is this a time ibr riddles?" cried the knight. "The flood
is every moment rising higher and higher, and what does it
concern me to know who you are i": But mayhap it does concern you though," said the guide,
"for I AM KiUHLEBORN.")
Thus speaking, he thrust his face into the wagon, and laughed
with every feature distorted; but the wagon remained a wagon
no longer, the grayish white horses were horses no longer; all
was transformed to foam, —all sunk into the waves that rushed
and hissed around them, —while the wagoner himself, rising in
the form of a gigantic surge, dragged the vainly struggling
courser under the waters, then rose again huge as a liquid
tower, burst over the heads of the floating pair, and was on the
point of burying them irrecoverably beneath it.
At that instant, the soft voice of Undine was heard through
the uproar; the moon emerged through the clouds, and by its
light Undine became visible on the heights above the valley.
She rebuked, she threatened the flood below her: the menacing
and tower-like billow vanished muttering and murmuring; the
waters gently flowed away under the beams of the moon; while
Undine, like a hovering white dove, came sweeping down from
the hill, raised the knight and Bertalda, and supported them to
a green spot of turf, where, by her earnest efforts, she soon re
stored them, and dispelled their terrors. She then assisted
Bertalda to mount the white palfrey, on which she had herself
been borne to the valley, and thus all three returned homeward
to Castle Ringstetten.




UNDINE.                       85
CHAPTER XV.
Passage down the Danube to Vienna.
AFTER this last adventure, they lived at the castle undisturbed
and in peaceful enjoyment. The knight was more and more
impressed with the heavenly goodness of his wife, which she
had so nobly shown by her instant pursuit, and by the rescue
she had effected in the Black Valley, where the power of
Kiihleborn again commenced. Undine herself felt that peace
and security which the mind never fails to experience, so long
as it has the consciousness of being in the path of rectitude;
and she had this additional comfort, that, in the newly awakened love and regard of her husband, Hope and Joy were rising
upon her with their myriad beams of promise.
Bertalda, on the other hand, showed herself grateful, humble,
and timid, without taking to herself any merit for so-doing.
Whenever Hulbrand or Undine began to explain to her their
reason for covering the fountain, or their adventures in the
Black Valley, she would earnestly entreat them to spare her
the recital, since the fountain had occasioned her too much
shame, and the Black Valley too much terror, to be made
topics of conversation. With respect to these, therefore, she
learnt nothing further from either of them; and why was it
necessary that she should be informed? Peace and Happin.ss had visibly taken up their abode at Castle Ringstetten.
They enjoyed their present blessings in perfect security; and
in relation to the future, they now imagined it impossible, that
life could produce any thing but pleasant flowers and fruits.
In this grateful union of friendship and affection, winter came
and passed away; and spring, with its foliage of tender green
and its heaven of softest blue, succeeded to gladden the hearts




86                      UNDINE.
of the inmates of the castle. The season was in harmony with
their minds, and their minds imparted their own hue and tone
to the season. What wonder, then, that its storks and swallows inspired them also with a disposition to t.nvei! On a
bright morning, while they were taking a walk down to one of
the sources of the Danube, Huldbrand spoke of the magnifi
cence of this noble stream, how it continued swelling as it flowed through countries enriched by its waters, with what splendour Vienna rose and sparkled on its banks, and how it grew
lovelier and more imposing almost the whole of its prog'ess.
"It must be glorious to trace its course down to Vienna!"
Bertalda exclaimed with warmth; but, immediately resuming
the humble and modest demeanour she had recently shown, she
paused and blushed in silence.
This slight circumstance was extremely touching to Undine;
and with the liveliest wish to gratify her friend, she said: " And
who or what shall prevent our taking this little voyage?"
Bertalda leapt up with delight, and the two females the same
moment began painting this enchanting trip on the Danube in
the most brilliant colours. Huldbrand, too, agreed to the project with pleasure; only he once whispered with something of
alarm in Undine's ear: " But, at that distance, Kiihleborn becomes possessed of his power again?"
" Let him cone, let him come," she answered with a laugh;
" I shall be there, and he dares do none of his mischief in my
presence."
Thus was the last impediment removed; they prepared for
the expedition, and soon set out upon it with lively spirits and
the brightest hopes.
But be not surprised, 0 man, if events almost always happen
very differently from what you expect. That malign power,
which lies in ambush for our destruction, delights to lull its
chosen victim asleep with sweet songs and golden delusions:
while, on the other hand, the messenger of Heaven, sent to
rescue us from peril, often thunders at our door with the vio
lence of alarm and terror




UNDINE.                       87
During the first days of their passage down the Danube, they
were unusually gratified. The further they advanced upon the
waters of this proud river, the views became more and more
picturesque and attractive. But here, amid scenes otherwise
most delicious, and from which they had promised themselves
the purest delight, here again the stubborn Kiihleborn, dropping all disguise, began to show his power of annoying them.
He had no other means of doing this, indeed, than mere tricks
and illusions, for Undine often rebuked the swelling M aves or
the contrary winds, and then the insolence of the enemy was
instantly humbled and subdued; but his attacks were renewed,
and Undine's reproofs again became necessary; so that the
pleasure of this little water-party was completely destroyed.
The boatmen, too, were continually whispering to one another
in dismay, and eyeing their three superiors with distrust; while
even the servants bean more and more to form dismal surmises, and to watch their master and mistress with looks of suspicion.
Huldbrand often said to himself, in the silence of his soul:
" This comes to pass, when like marries not like,-when a man
forms an unnatural union with a female of the sea." Still, excusing himself, as we are nost of us so fond of doing, he frequently pursued a train of Lhought like this: "I did not in fact
know that she was a maid of the sea. It is my misfortune,
that all my steps are haunted and disturbed by the wild humours of her kindred, but it is not my crime."
Making reflections like these, he felt himself in some measure
strengthened; but, on the other hand, he only the more entertained a feeling of ill-humour against Undine, almost amounting to malevolence. He cast upon her glances of fretfulness
and ill-nature, and the unhappy wife but too well understood
their meaning.
One day, grieved by this unkindness, as well as exhausted
by her continual exertions to foil the artifices of Kiihleborn,
while rocked and soothed by the gen le motion of the bark, she
toward evening fell into a deep slumber. But hardly had she




88                      UNDINE.
closed her eyes, when every person in the boat, in whatever
direction he might look upon the water, saw the head of a man,
beyond imagination frightful: each head rose out of the waves,
not like that of a person swimming, but quite perpendicular, as
if firmly fastened to the watery mirror, and yet moving on
with the bark. Every one wished to show to his companion
what terrified himself, and each perceived the same expression
of horror on the face of the other, only his hand and eye were
directed to a different quarter, as if to a point where the
monster, half laughing and half threatening, rose opposite to
himself.
When, however, they wished to make one another understand
the sight, and all cried out, "Look there!" " No, there!" the
frightful heads all became visible to each, and the whole river
around the boat swarmed with the most horrible faces. All raised
a scream of terror at the sight, and Undine started from sleep.
The moment she opened her eyes upon the mad group, the deformed visages disappeared. But Huldbrand was made furious
by so many hideous visions. He would have burst out in wild
imprecations, had not Undine, with the most submissive air, and
in the gentlest tone of supplication, thus entreated him:
" For God's sake, my husband, do not express displeasure
against me here,-we are on the water."
The knight was silent and sat down, absorbed in deep thought.
Undine whispered in his ear: "' Would it not be better, my
love, to give up this foolish voyage, and return to Castle Ringstetten in peace?"
But Huldbrand murmured wrathfully: "c So I must become
a prisoner in my own castle? and not be allowed to breathe a
moment but while the fountain is covered?  Would to Heaven
that your cursed kindred"At these fatal words, Undine pressed her fair hand on his
lips with the most touching tenderness. He said no more, but,
assuming an air of composure, pondered on all that Undine had
lately warned him to avoid.
Bertalda, meanwhile, had given herself up to a crowd of wild




UNDINE.                            89
and wandering thoughts. Of Undine's origin she knew a good
deal, but not the whole; and the terrible KUhleborn especially
remained to her an awful, an impenetrable mystery; never,
indeed, had she once heard his name. Musing upon this series
of wonders, she unclasped, without being fully conscious of
what she was doing, a gold necklace, which Huldbrand, on one
of the preceding days of their passage, had bought for her of a
travelling trader; and she was now  letting it swing in sport
just over the surface of the stream, while, in her dreamy mood,
she enjoyed the bright reflection it threw on the water, so clear
beneath  the glow  of evening.   That instant, a huge hand
flashed suddenly up from the Danube, seized the necklace in
its grasp, and vanished with it beneath the flood.  Bertalda
shrieked aloud, and a laugh of mockery and contempt came
pealing up from the depth of the river.*
The knight could now restrain his wrath no longer. He
started up, gazed fiercely upon the deep, poured forth a torrent
of reproaches, heaped curses upon all who interfered with his
* This fine passage of Fouqu6 bears a strong resemblance to a finer one in
Southey's THALABA, Book V.
"And he drew off Abdaldar's ring,
And cast it in the gulf.
A skinny hand came up,
And caught it as it fell,
And peals of devilish laughter shook the cave."
The reader, if he take any interest in the coincidences of genius, may like
to compare with these passages, the following verse from king Arthur's
death in PERcY's RELIQUES:
"A hande and an arme did meet the sworde,
And fiourish'd three times in the air;
Then sunke beneathe the renninge streme,
And of the duke was seene noe mair."
See also this same incident of the HAND very strongly pictured in Tennyson's MORTE D'ARTHUR. The whole poem, indeed, is so full of power,
beauty, and tenderness, that we hope the author will take a hint from it,
as a suggestion of his good genius, relative to his talent in this style of composition.




9)0                     UNDINE.
friends or troubled his ife, and dared them all, water-spirits or
mermaids, to come within the sweep of his sword.
Bertalda, meantime, wept for the loss of the ornament so very
dear to her heart, and her tears were to Huldbrand as oil poured
upon the flame of his fury; while Undine held her hand over
the side of' the boat, dipping it in the waves, softly murmuring
to herself, and only at times interrupting her strange mysterious
whisper, when she addressed her husband in a voice of entreaty
" Do not reprove me here, beloved; blame all others, as you
will, but here, do not reprove me here. Surely you know the
reason!" And, in truth, though he was trembling with excess
of passion, he with strong effort kept himself from uttering a
single word against her.
She then brought up in her wet hand, which she had been
holding under the'waves, a coral necklace of such exquisite
beauty, such sparkling brilliancy, as dazzled the eyes of all who
beheld it. " Take this," said she, holding it out kindly to Bertalda; " I have ordered it to be brought, to make some amends
for your loss, and do not, dear heart, be troubled any more."
But the knight rushed between them, and, snatching the beautiful ornament out of Undine's hand, hurled it back into the
flood, and in a flame of rage exclaimed: "So then, you have a
connexion with them forever? In the name of all witches and
enchanters, go and remain among them with your presents,
you sorceress, and leave us human beings in peace!"
But poor Undine, with a look of mute amazement and eyes
streaming with tears, gazed on him, her hand still stretched out,
just as it was when she had so lovingly offered her brilliant gift
to Bertalda. She then began to weep more and more, as if her
heart would break, like a tender, innocent child, very bitterly
grieved. At last, all wearied out. she said:
"Alas, dearest, all is over now, —arewell! They shall do
you no harm; only remain true, that I may have power to keel,
them from you. But I, alas, must go away, I must go away,
even in this early dawn of youth and bliss. 0 woe, woe, what
have you done! 0 woe, woe 1"




UNDINE.                           91
And she vanished over the side of the boat.-Whether she
plunged into the stream, or whether, like water melting into
water, she flowed away with it, they knew not, her disappearance so much resembled both united, and neither by itself. But
she was gone, gliding on with the Danube, instantly and completely; only little waves were yet whispering and sobbing
around the boat,* and they seemed almost distinctly to say  " O
woe, woe! Ah, remain true! O woe!"
Bit Huldbrand, in a passion of burning tears, threw himself
upon the deck of the bark, arnd a deep swoon soon wrapped the
wretched man in a blessed forgetfulness of misery.
*The original of this clause is, " nur fifisterten noch kleine Wellchen
schluchzend urn den Kahn." If the translator may be allowed to express
his admiration, without being considered intrusive, he would say that nothing
could have been more exquisitely conceived than this circumstance.




92                      UNDINE.
CHAPTER XVI.
What further happened to Huldbrand.
THE brief period of our mourning, —ought we to view it as a
misfortune, or as a blessing? I mean that deep mourning of
the heart, which gushes up from the very well-springs of our
being; that mourning, which becomes so perfectly one with the
lost object of our affection, that this even ceases to be a lost
thing to the sorrowing heart; and which desires to make the
whole life a holy office dedicated to the image of the departed, until we too pass that bourne which separates it from our
view.
Some men there are, indeed, who have this profound tenderness of spirit, and who thus consecrate their affections to the
memory of the departed; but still their mourning softens into
an emotion of gentle melancholy, having none of the intenseness of the first agony of separation. Other and foreign images
intervene, and impress themselves upon the mind; we learn at
last the transitory nature of every thing earthly, even from that
of our affliction; and I cannot therefore but view it as a misfortune, that the period of our mourning is so brief.
The lord of Ringstetten learnt the truth of this by experience;
but whether he derived any advantage from the knowledge, we
shall discover in the sequel of this history. At first he could do
nothing but weep, weep as bitterly as the poor amiable Undine
had wept, when he snatched out of her hand that brilliant ornament, with which she so beautifully wished to make amends
for Bertalda's loss. And then he stretched his hand out as she
had done, and wept again like her with renewed violence.
He cherished a secret hope, that even the springs of life would
at last become exhausted by weeping; and when we have been




UNDINE.                       93
severely afflicted, has not a similar thought -passed through the
minds of many of us with a painful pleasure? Bertalda wept
with him; and they lived together a long while at Castle Ringstetten in undisturbed quiet, honouring the memory of Undine,
and having almost wholly forgotten their former attachment.
Owing to this tender remembrance of Huldbrand, and to encourage him in conduct so exemplary, the good Undine, about
this time, often visited his dreams; she soothed him with soft
and affectionate caresses, and then went away again, weeping
in silence; so that when he awoke, he sometimes knew not how
his cheeks came to be so wet,-whether it was caused by her
tears, or only by his own.
But as time advanced, these visions became less frequent,
and the severity of the knight's sorrow was softened; still he
might never while he lived, it may be, have entertained any
other wish than thus to think of Undine in silence, and to speak
of her in conversation, had not the old fisherman arrived unexpectedly at the castle, and earnestly insisted on Bertalda's returning with him, as his child. He had received information
of Undine's disappearance, and he was not willing to allow
Bertalda to continue longer at the castle with the now unmarried knight. " For," said he, " whether my daughter loves me
or not, is at present what I care not to know; but her good
name is at stake, and where that commands or forbids, not a
word more reed be said."
This resolution of the old fisherman, and the fearful solitude,
that, on Bertalda's departure, threatened to oppress the knight
in every hall and passage of the deserted castle, brought a circumstance into distinct consciousness, which, owing to his sorrow for Undine, had of late been slumbering and completely
forgotten,-I mean his attachment to the fair Bertalda; and this
he made known to her father.
The fisherman had many objections to make to the proposed
marriage. The old man had loved Undine with exceeding
tenderness, and it was doubtful to his mind, whether the mere
disappearance of his beloved child could be properly viewed as




94                       UNDINE.
her death. But were it even granted, that her corse were lying stiff and cold at the bottom of the Danube, or swept away
by the current to the ocean, still Bertalda would not be guiltless in her death; and it was unfitting for her to step into the
place of the poor banished wife. The fisherman, however, had
felt a strong regard also for the knight: this, and the entreaties of his daughter, who had become much more gentle and
respectful, as well as her tears for Undine, all exerted their influence; and he must at last have been forced to give up his
opposition, for he remained at the castle without objection, and a
courier was sent off express to father Heilmann, who in former
and happier days had united Undine and Huldbrand, requesting him to come and perform the ceremony at the knight's
second marriage.
But hardly had the holy man read through the letter from
the lord of Ringstetten, ere he set out upon the journey, and
made much greater dispatch on his way to the castle, than the
messenger from there had made in reaching him. Whenever
his breath failed him in his rapid progress, or his old limbs
ached with fatigue, he would say to himself: " Perhaps I may
still be in season to prevent a sin; then sink not, weak and
withered body, before I arrive at the end of my journey!"
And with renewed vigour he pressed forward, hurrying on
without rest or repose, until, late one evening, he entered the
embowered court-yard of Castle Ringstetten.
The betrothed pair were sitting arm-in-arm under the trees,
and the aged fisherman in a thoughtful mood sat near them.
The moment they saw father Heilmann, they rose with a spring
of joy. and pressed round him! with eager welcome. But he,
in few words, urged the bridegroom* to accompany him into the
castle; and when Huldbrand stood mute with surprise, and delayed complying with his earnest request, the pious priest said
to him:
* The betrothed, are called bride and bridegroom in Germany.




UNDINE.                        95
"Why do I then defer speaking, my lord of Ringstetten.
until I can address you in private? There is no occasion for
the delay of a moment. What I have to say, as much concerns
Bertclda and the fisherman as yourself; and what we cannot
avoid hearing at some time, it is best to hear as soon as possible. Are you then so very certain, knight Huldbrand, that
your first wife is actually dead? It hardly appears so to me.
I will say nothing, indeed, of the mysterious state in which she
may be now existing; in truth, I know nothing of it with certainty. But that she was a most devoted and faithful wife, so
much is beyond all dispute.  And for fourteen nights past, she
has appeared to me in a dream, standing at my bed-side, wringing her tender hands in anguish, and imploring me with deep
sighs:' Ah, prevent him, dear father! I am still living! Ah.
save his life! ah! save his soul!'
" What this vision of the night could mean, I was at first unable to divine; then came your messenger, and I have now
hastened hither, not to unite, but, as I hope, to separate, what
ought not to be joined together. Leave her, Huldbrand! Leave
him, Bertalda! He still belongs to another; and do you not
see on his pale cheek the traces of that grief, which the disappearance of his wife has produced there? That is not the
look of a bridegroom, and the spirit breathes the presage on
my soul:'If you do not leave him, you will never, never be
happy."
The three felt in their inmost hearts, that father Heilmann
spoke the truth; but still they affected not to believe him, or
they strove rather to resist their conviction. Even the old
fisherman had become so infatuated, that he conceived the marriage to be now indispensable, as they had so often, during
the time he had been with them, mutually agreed to the arrangement.  They all, therefore, with a determined and gloomy
eagerness, struggled against the representations and warnings
of the holy man, until, shaking his head and oppressed with
sorrow, he finally quitted the castle, not choosing to accept




96                      UNDINE.
their offered shelter even for a single night, or indeed so much
as to taste a morsel of the refreshment they brought him. Huldbrand persuaded himself, however, that the priest was a mere
visionary, and sent at day-break to a monk of the nearest monastery, who, without scruple, promised to perform the ceremony in a few days.




UNDINE.                       97
CHAPTER XVII.
The Knight's Dream.
IT was at the earliest moment of dawn, when night begins faintly to brighten into morning twilight, that Huldbrand was lying
on his couch, half waking and half sleeping. Whenever he
attempted to compose himself to sleep, he was seized with an
undefined terror, that made him shrink back from the enjoyment, as if his slumber were crowded with spectres. But
whenever he made an effort to rouse himself, the wings of a
swan seemed to be waving around him, and soothing him with
the music of their motion, and thus in a soft delusion of the
senses he sunk back into his state of imperfect repose.
At last, however, he must have fallen perfectly asleep; for,
while the sound of the swan-wings was murmuring around him,
he seemed to be lifted by their regular strokes, and to be wafted far away over land and sea, and still their music swelled on
his ear most sweetly. " The music of the swan! the song of
the swan!" he could not but repeat to himself every moment;
" is it not a sure foreboding of death?"  Probably, however, it
had yet another meaning. All at once he seemed to be hovering over the Mediterranean Sea. A swan with her loud melody
sung in his ear, that this was the Mediterranean Sea; and while
he was looking down upon the waves, they became transparent
as crystal, so that he could see through them to the very bottom.
At this a thrill of delight shot through him, for he could see
Undine, where she was sitting beneath the clear domes of crystal. It is true, she was weeping very bitterly, and such was
the excess of her grief, that she bore only a faint resemblance
to the bright and joyous being she had been, during those happy days they had lived together at Castle Ringstetten, both on
8




98                        UNDINE.
their arrival there and afterward, a short time before they set
out upon their fatal passage down the Danube. The knight
could not avoid dwelling upon all this with deep emotion, but it
did not appear that Undine was aware of his presence.
Kiihleborn had meanwhile approached her, and was about to
reprove her for weeping, when she assumed the boldness of superiority, and looked upon him with an air so majestic and commanding, that he was well-nigh terrified and confounded by it.
"Although I too now  dwell here beneath the waters," said
she, "yet I have brought my soul with me; and therefc:e I
may well be allowed to weep, little as you may conceive the
meaning of such tears. They are even a blessed privilege, as
every thing is such a privilege, to one gifted with the true soul."
He shook his head with disbelief of what she said, and, after
musing a moment or two, replied: "And yet, niece, you are
subject to our laws of the element, as a being of the same nature with ourselves; and, should HE prove unfaithful to you
and marry again, you are obliged to take away his life."
-" He remains a widower to this very hour," replied Undine,
" and he still loves me with the passion of a sorrowful heart."
"He is, however, a bridegroom withal," said Kiihleborn,
with a chuckle of scorn; "and let only a few days wear away,
and anon comes the priest with his nuptial blessing, and then
you must go up and execute your share of the business, the
death of the husband with two wives."
" I have not the power," returned Undine, with a smile.
"Do you not remember? I have sealed up the fountain securely, not enly against myself but all of the same race."
"Still, should he leave his castle," said  Kiihleborn, "or
should he once allow the fountain to be uncovered, what then?
for doubtless he thinks there is no great murder in such trifles'"*
"For that very reason," said Undine, still smiling amid her
*  Denn er denkt gewiss blutwenig an alle diese Dinge."' For he surely
thinks very little of all these things.' The temptation to render this odd
idiom, blutwenig, by some equivalent phrase in English, was a whim too
strong to be resisted.




UNDINE.                        99
tears, " for that very reason he is this moment hovering in spirit
here over the Mediterranean Sua, and dreaming of this voice of
warning which our conversation affords him. With a view to
give him this warning, I have studiously disposed the whole
vision."
That instant Kiihleborn, inflamed with rage, looked up at the
knight, wrathfully threatened him, stamped upon the ground,
and then, swift as the passion that possessed him, sprang up
fiom beneath the waves.  He seemed to swell in his fury to:he
size of a whale. Again the swans began to sing, to wave their
wings, to fly; the knight seemed to be soaring away over
mountains and streams, and at last to alight at Castle Ringstetten, where he awoke upon his couch.
Upon his couch he actually did awake, and his attendant,
entering at the same moment, informed him, that father Heilmann was still lingering in the neighbourhood; that he had,
the evening before, met with him in the forest, where he was.hchtering himself under a booth, which he had formed by interweaving the branches of trees, and covering them with moss
and fine brush-wood; and that to the question,' What he was
doing there, since he had so firmly refused to perform the nuptial ceremony?' his answer was:
" There are yet other ceremonies to perform, beside those at
the altar of marriage; and though I did not come to officiate
at the wedding, I can still officiate at a very different solemnity.
All things have their season, and we must be ready for them
all. Besides, marrying and mourning are by no means very
far from each other, as every one, not wilfully blinded, must
know full well."
In consequence of these words and of his dream, the knight
made a variety of reflections, some wild and some not unmixed with alarm.  But a man is apt to consider it very disagreeable to give over an affair, which he has once settled in his
mind as certain, and ther'efore all went on just according to the
old arrangement.




100                      UNDINE.
CHAPTER XVII.
How the Knight Huldbrand solemnized his marriage.
SHOULD I relate to you the events of the marriage festival at
Castle Ringstetten, it would seem as if you were viewing a
crowded assemblage of bright and joyous things, but all overspread with a black mourning crape, through whose darkening
veil the whole splendour appeared less to resemble pleasure,
than a mockery of the nothingness of all earthly joys.
It was not that any spectral visitation disturbed the scene of
festivity; for the castle, as we well know, had been secured
against the mischief and menaces of water-spirits. But the
knight, the fisherman, and all the guests, were unable to banish
the feeling, that the chief personage of the feast was still wanting, and that this chief personage could be no other than the
amiable Undine, so dear to them all.
Whenever a door was heard to open, all eyes were involuntarily turned in that direction; and if it was nothing but the
steward with new dishes, or the cup-bearer with a supply of
wine of higher flavour than the last, they again looked down
in sadness and disappointment; while the flashes of wit and
merriment that had been passing at times from one to another,
ceased, and were succeeded by tears of mournful remembrance.
The bride was the. least thoughtful of the company, and
therefore the most happy; but even she, occasionally, found it
difficult to realize the fact, that she was sitting at the head of
the table, wearing a green garland and gold-embroidered garments, while Undine.was lying a corse, stiff and cold, at the
bottom of the Danube, or carried out by the current into the
ocean. For, ever since her father had suggested something of




UNDINE.                      101
this sort, his words were continually sounding in her ear; and
this day, in particular, they would neither fade from her memory nor yield to other thoughts.
Evening had scarcely arrived, when the company returned
to their homes; not dismissed by the impatience of the bridegroom, as wedding parties are sometimes broken up, but constrained solely by painful associations, joyless melancholy, and
forebodings of evil. Bertalda retired with her maidens, and the
knight with his attendants, to undress; but these young bridemaids and bridemen, such was the gloomy tenor of this festival,
made no attempt to amuse bride or bridegroom with the usual
pleasantry and frolicksome good-humour of the occasion.
Bertalda wished to awake a livelier spirit; she ordered them to
spread before her a brilliant set of jewels, a present from Huldbrand, together with rich apparel and veils, that she might
select from among them the brightest and most beautiful for her
dress in the morning. The attendants rejoiced at this opportunity of pouring forth good wishes and promises of happiness
to their young mistress, and failed not to extol the beauty of the
pride with their liveliest eloquence. They became more and
more absorbed in this admiration and flattery, until Bertalda at
last, looking in a mirror, said with a sigh:
"Ah, but do you not see plainly how freckled I am growing?
Look here on the side of my neck."
They looked at the place, and found the freckles, indeed, as
their fair mistress had said; but they called them mere beautyspots, the faintest touches of the sun, such as would only heighten
the whiteness of her delicate complexion. Bertalda shook her
head, and still viewed them as a blemish.
" And I could remove them," she said at last, sighing.  "But
the castle-fountain is covered, from which I formerly used to
have that precious water, so purifying to the skin. 0, had I
this evening only a single flagon of it!"
"Is that all?" cried an alert waiting-maid, laughing, as she
glided out of the apartment.
"She will not be so frantic," said Bertalda, in a voice of in



102                      UNDINE.
quiry and agreeably surprised, C' as to cause the stone cover of
the fountain to be taken off this very evening?"
That instant they heard the tread of men already passing
along the court-yard, and could see from the window where the
ouficious girl was leading them directly up to the fountain, and
that they carried levers and other instruments on their shoulders.
" It is certainly my will," said Bertalda with a smile, " if it
does not take them too long."  And, pleased with the thought,
that the merest hint from her was now sufficient to accomplish
what had formerly been refused with a painful reproof, she
looked down upon their operations in the bright moonlight of the
castle court.
The men seized the enormous stone, as if they must exert all
their strength in raising it; some one of their number indeed
would occasionally sigh, when he recollected they were destroying the work of their former beloved mistress. Their labour,
however, was much lighter than they had expected.  It seemed
as if some power, from within the fountain itself, aided them in
raising the stone.
" It certainty appears," said the workmen to one another in
astonishment, "as if the confined water were become a jet or
spouting fountain." And the stone rose more and more, and,
almost without the assistance of the work-people, rolled slowly
away upon the pavement with a hollow sound. But an appearance, from the opening of the fountain, filled them with awe, as
it rose like a white column of water: at first they imagined it
to be a spouting fountain in good earnest, until they perceived
the rising form to be a pale female, veiled in white. She wept
bitterly, raised her hands above her head, and wrung them with
anguish, as with slow and solemn step she moved toward the
castle. The servants shrunk back, and fled from the fountain;
while the bride, pale and motionless with horror, stood with her
maidens at the window from which she had been viewing what
passed without. When the figure had now come close beneath
their room, it looked up to them and uttered the low moaning of
misery, and Bertalda thought she recognized through the veil




UNDINE.                      103
the pale features of Undine. But the mourning form passed
on, as sad, reluctant, and lingering, as if going to the place of
execution. Bertalda screamed to her maids to call the knight:
not one of them dared to stir from her place; and even the
bride herself became again mute, as if trembling at the sound
of her own voice.
While they continued standing at the window, overpowered with terror and motionless as statues, the mysterious
wanderer entered the castle, ascended the well-known stairs,
and traversed the well-known halls, her tears ever flowing
in silent woe. Alas, with what different emotions had she
once passed through these rooms!
The knight had in the mean time dismissed his attendants.
Half undressed and in deep dejection; he was standing before
a large mirror; a wax taper burned dimly beside him. At
this moment he heard a low tapping at his door, the least perceptible touch of a finger. Undine had formerly tapped in
this way, when she wished to amuse him with her endearing
sportiveness.
" It is all illusion! a mere freak of fancy 1" said he to himself. " I must to my nuptial bed."
" You must, indeed, but to a cold one!" he heard a voice,
choked with sobs, repeat from without; and then he saw in the
mirror, that the door of his room was slowly, slowly opened, and
the white wanderer entered, and gently secured it behind her.
" They have opened the fountain," said she in a low tone,
"and now I am here and you must die."
He felt in the shock and death-pause of his heart, that this
must indeed be his doom; but, covering his eyes with his
hands, he cried: " Do not, in my death-hour, do not drive me
to distraction with terror. If you have a visage of horror behind that veil, do not lift it I Take my life, but let me not see
you.))
"C Alas!" replied the wanderer, " will you not then look upon
me once more? I am as beautiful now as when you wooed
me on the peninsula 1"




104                       UNDINE.
"0   would to God it were so!" sighed Huldbrand, "and
that I might dir. by a kiss from you!"
" Most willingly do I grant your wish, my dearest love," said
she. And as she threw back her veil, her dear face met his
view, smiling with celestial beauty.  Trembling with love and
the awe of approaching death, the knight stooped to give and
receive the embrace. She kissed him with the holy kiss of
Heaven; but she relaxed not her hold, pressing him  more passionately in her arms, and weeping as if she would weep away
her soul. Tears rushed into the knight's eyes, while a thrill
both of bliss and agony* shot through his heart, until he at last
expired, sinking softly na:k from her fair arms, and resting upon
the pillow of his couch, a corse.
" I have wept him to death!" said she to some domestics,
who met her in the anti-chamber; -and passing through the terrified group, she went slowly out and disappeared in the
fountain.
* The expression of the original is, " lieblichen Wehe,"' a blissful agony,
or'pang.' This union of opposite qualities, however bold the conception
producing it, and however suited to express the death-pang under such circunstances, forms a curious felicity, rather too violent to be often admitted
in English.  Phrases of this kind are more familiar in German




UNDINE.                     105
CHAPTER XIX.
How the Knight Huldbrand was buried.
FATHER Heilmann had returned to the castle, as soon as the
death of the lord of Ringstetten was made known in the neighbourhood; and he arrived at the very hour when the monk,
who had married the unfortunate couple, was hurrying from
the door, overcome with dismay and horror.
When father Heilmann was informed of this, he replied:
" It is all well; and now come the duties of my oflice, in which
I have no need of an assistant."
He then began to console the bride, now become a widow,
small as was the advantage her worldly and light-minded spirit
derived from his kindness.
The old fisherman, on the other hand, though severely afflicted, was far more resigned in regard to the fate of his son-in-law
and the calamity of his daughter; and while Bertalda could
not refrain from accusing Undine as a murderess and sorceress,
the old man calmly said: " The event, after all, could not have
happened otherwise. I see nothing in it but the judgment of
God; a-Ad no one, I am sure, could have his heart more pierced
by the death of Huldbrand, than she who was obliged to accomplish his doom, the poor forsaken Undine!"
He then assisted in arranging the funeral solemnities, as
suited the rank of the deceased. The knight was to be interred
in a village church-yard, in whose consecrated ground were
the graves of his ancestors: a place which they, as well as
himself, had endowed with rich privileges and gifts. His shield
and helmet lay upon his coffin, ready to be lowered with it into
the grave, for lord Huldbrand of Ringstetten had died the last
of his race; the mourners began their sorrowful march, lift



106                     UNDINE.
ing the melancholy wail of their dirges amid the calm unclouded heaven; father Heilmann preceded the procession, bearing a
lofty crucifix, while Bertalda followed in her misery, supported
by her aged father.
While proceeding in this manner, they suddenly saw, in the
midst of the dark-habited mourning females in the widow's
train, a snow-white figure, closely veiled, and wringing its
hands in the wild vehemence of sorrow. Those next to whom
it moved, seized with a secret dread, started back or on one
side; and owing to their movements, the others, next to whom
the white stranger now came, were terrified still more, so as to
produce almost a complete disarrangement of the funeral train.
Some of the military escort ventured to address the figure, and
attempt to remove it from the procession, but it seemed to
vanish from under their hands, and yet was immediately seen
advancing again, with slow and solemn step, among the followers of the body. At last, in consequence of the shrinking away
of the attendants, it came close behind Bertalda.  It now
moved so slowly, that the widow was not aware of its presence,
and it walked meekly on behind, neither suffering nor creating
disturbance.
This continued until they came to the church-yard, where
the process'on formed a circle round the open grave. Then it
was that Bertalda perceived her unbidden companion, and
prompted half by anger and half by terror, she commanded her
to depart from the knight's place of final rest. But the veiled
female, shaking her head with a gentle refusal, raised her hands
toward RBrtalda, in lowly supplication, by which she was great
ly moved, and could not but remember with tears, how Undine
had shown such sweetness of spirit on the Danube, when she
held out to her the coral necklace.
Father Heilmann now motioned with his hand, and gave
order for all to observe perfect stillness, that over the body,
whose mound was well-nigh formed, they might breathe a prayer
of sl'ent devotion. Bertalda knelt without speaking; and all
knelt, even the grave diggers who had now finished their work.




UNDINE.                      107
But when they rose from this breathing of the heart, the white
stranger had disappeared. On the spot where she had kneeled,
a little spring, of silver brightness, was gushing out from the
green turf, and it kept swelling and flowing onward with a low
murmur, till it almost encircled the mound of the knight's
grave; it then continued its course, and emptied itself into a
calm lake, which lay by the side of the consecrated ground.
Even to this day, the inhabitants of the village point out the
spring; —and they cannot but cherish the belief, that it is the
poor deserted Undine, who in this manner still fondly encircles
her beloved in her arms.
END OF UNDINE.








SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS.
A NORTHERN TALE.
FROM THE GERMAN OF THE
BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUe.








NOTICE OF SINTRAM.
FROM THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO HIS SELECTED WORKS.
" FOLKO of Montfaupon was and is peculiarly endeared to my heart
as a true type of that old French chivalric gliory which now only
emerges in individual appearances, for instance, beautifully, in the
Venda.n wars, which, though failing in victory, were rich in honors.
With these feelings, the poet could not forbear from arraying him
in the colours of his own escutcheon, and assigning to him the
emblems of the same, and even in some measure denoting him by
his own ancestral name; for Foulqu6 we were called in old times,
which was probably derived, according to our Norman descent,
from the Northlandish name Folko, or Fulko; and a castle'Montfaupon' was among our ancient possessions. But here that only
properly concerns the noble pair, Folko and Gabrielle, as interwoven in the tale of'Sintram.' The tale itself is the offspring
of my own fantasy, immediately suggested by Albrecht Durer's
admirable wood cut of'The Knight, Death and Satan,' the birthday gift of a former friend, with the happy proposal that I should
frame from it a romance or a ballad. It became more than this;
and the present tale shows it to be so, being supported by divers
traditions, in part derived to me orally, of the Germanic northern
customs in war and festivity, and in many other relationships
beside. The legend indicated at the conclusion of the information respecting Sintram, of the terrific stories of the north, transformed into southern splendour and mirthful dreams, would really then have been executed, and arose more clearly from the fantastic tones of a congenial harpsichord-player, who accidentally met the poet. Partly, however, other avocations, partly interruptions from without, have hitherto driven the project into the
back ground. But it still lives within me; and now again, from the
powerful, and yet child-like harmonies of the Northman Ole Bull,




112                        PREFACE.
seems to stir more vigorously and brightly than before. Who
knows what yet may happen? Meanwhile here gushes from me
a song of salutation to one who, honored by me as master, is not
less dear to me as a man:
Profoundly drearnpt a youth on Norland waste;
But no-it is not waste where fairy rings
Reflect the past as well as future things,
When love and woe in boding tones are drest.
They greeted him, they kissed him, and retreated;
They left for him an instrument of sound,
Whose forbeful strings with highest deeds could bound,
And yet with childish frolics be entreated.
He wakes-the gift he seizes, comprehending
Its sweet mysterious pleasure how to prove,
And pours it forth in pure harmonious blending.
O may'st thou, ever victor, joyful move,
Thou Northland sailor, on life's voyage wending,
Conscious of God within thee and above."
FoUQUi




SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS.
CHAPTER I.
IN the Castle of Drontheim there were many knights assembled
to hold council on the affairs of the kingdom; and after their
debate, they remained till past midnight carousing together
around the huge stone table in the vaulted hall. A rising storm
drove the snow wildly against the rattling windows, all the
thick oak doors groaned, the massive locks shook, the castle
clock slowly and heavily struck the hour of one.
At that instant a boy, pale as death, with disordered hair and
closed eyes, rushed into the hall, uttering a wild scream of terror. He stopped behind the richly-carved seat of the mighty
Biorn, clung to the knight with both his hands, and shrieked in
a piercing voice, " My knightly father! Death and another are
closely pursuing me."
An awful stillness reigned suddenly in the whole assembly,
broken only by the agonized shrieks of the boy. But one of
Biorn's numerous retainers, an old esquire, known by the name
of Roif the Good, advanced towards the terrified child, took him
in his arms, and half chanted this prayer: " Oh, Father! help
Thy servant! I believe, and yet I cannot believe." The boy,
as if in a dream, at once loosened his hold of the knight; and
the good Rolf bore him from the hall unresisting, yet still shedding hot tears, and murmuring confused sounds.
The lords and knights looked at one another in mute amazerment, until the mighty Biorn said, in a fierce but scornfullyderiding tone, " Do not suffer yourselves to be disturbed by
9




114                    SINTRAM,
the appearance of that strange being. He is my only son;
and has Deen in this state since he wag five years old: he
is now twelve. I am, therefore, accustomed'to see him so,
though, at the first, I too was disquieted by it. The attack
comes upon him only once in the year, and always at this same
time. But forgive me for having spent so many words on my
poor Sintram, and let us pass on to some worthier subject for
our discourse."
Again there was silence during some minutes. Then a sclitary voice began here and there to attempt renewing their for
mer conversation, but without success. Two of the youngest and
most joyous spirits began a drinking song; but the storm howled
and raged so wildly without, that their mirth was soon checked.
And now they all sat silent and motionless in the lofty hall;
the lamp flickered under the vaulted roof; the whole party of
knights looked like pale, lifeless images, dressed up in gigantic armour.
Then arose the chaplain of the castle of Drontheim, the only
priest among the knightly throng, and said, " Sir Biorn, our
eyes and thoughts have all been directed to you and your son
in a wonderful manner; but so it has been ordered by the providence of God. You perceive that we cannot withdraw them,
and you would do well to tell us exactly what you know concerning the fearful state in which we have seen your boy. Perchance, such a solemn narration, as I look forward to, might be
of much use to our disturbed minds."
Biorn cast a look of displeasure on the priest, and answered,
"You are more concerned in the history, than either you or i
could desire. Excuse me, if I am unwilling to trouble these
light-hearted warriors with such a rLuful tale."
But the chaplain approached nearer to the knight, and said,
in a firm yet very mild tone, " Sir knight, up to this moment
it rested with you to relate, or not to relate it: but now that
you have so strangely hinted at the share which I have had in
your son's calamity, I must positively request that you will repeat word for word now every thing came to pass. My




AND HIS COMPANIONS.               115
honor demands such an explanation, and that will weigh
with you as much as with me."
In stern compliance, Biorn bowed his haughty head, and began the following narration:-" This time seven years I was
keeping the Christmas-feast with my assembled followers.
We have many venerable old customs which have descended
to us by inheritance from our forefathers; as, for instance, that
of placing a gilded boar's head on the table, and making
thereon knightly vows of daring and wondrous deeds. Ouir
chaplain there, who in those days used frequently to visit
me, was never a friend to keeping up such traditions of the
ancient heathen world. Men of his sort were not much in
favor in those olden times."
"My excellent predecessors," interrupted the chaplain, "were
infinitely more concerned in obtaining the favour of God, than
that of the world, and they were not unsuccessful in their aim.
By that means they converted your ancestors; and if I can in
like manner be of service to you, even your jeering wili not
vex me."
With looks yet darker, and an involuntary shudder, the
knight resumed: "Yes, yes; I know all your promises and
threats concerning an invisible Power; and how they are meant
to persuade us to part more readily with whatever of this world's
goods we may possess. There was a time when such belonged
to me! Occasionally a strange fancy seizes me, and I feel as
if ages had passed over since then, and as if I were alone the
survivor, so fearfully is every thing changed. But now I recall
to my mind, that the greater part of this noble company knew
me in my days of happiness, and have seen my wife, my lovely
Verena."
He pressed his hands on his eyes, and many thought that he
wept. The tempest was now lulled; the soft light of the moon
shone through the windows, and her beams played on his wild
features. Suddenly he started up, so that his heavy armor
rattled with a fearful sound, and he cried out in a thundering
voice, " Shall I turn a monk, because she has become a nun?




116                     SINTRAM,
No, crafty priest; your webs are too thin to catch flies of my
sort."
" I have nothing to do with webs," said the chaplain.  "In all
openness and sincerity have I put heaven and hell before you
during the space of six years; and you gave full consent to
the step which the holy Vferena took. But what all that has to
do with your son's sufferings, I have yet to learn; and I wait
for your further narration."
" You may wait long enough for that," said Biorn, with a
sneer. " Sooner shall     "
" Swear not!" said the chaplain in a loud commanding tone;
and his eyes flashed almost fearfully.
" Hurra!" cried Biorn in wild affright; " Hurra! Death and
his companion are let loose!" and he dashed madly out of the
chamber, and down the steps. The loud wild notes of his horn
were heard summoning his retainers, and presently afterwards
the clatter of horses' feet on the frozen court-yard gave token
of their departure.
The knights retired, silent and shuddering; while the chaplain remained alone at the huge stone table, engaged in earnest
prayer.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                117
CHAPTER II.
AFTER some time had elapsed, the good Rolf returned with slow
and soft steps, and started with surprise at finding the hall deserted. The chamber where he had been occupied in quieting
and soothing the unhappy child, was in so distant a part of the
castle hat he had heard nothing of the knight's hasty departure.
The chaplain related to him all that had passed, and then said:
"' But my good Rolf, I much wish to ask you concerning those
strange words, with which you seemed to lull poor Sintram to
rest. They sounded like sacred words, and no doubt they are,
but I could not understand them.'I believe, and yet I cannot
believe.'"
" Reverend Sir," answered Rolf, c" I remember that from my
earliest years no history in the Gospels has taken such hold of
me, as that of the child possessed with a devil, which the disciples
were not able to cast out; but when our Saviour came down
from the mountain where he had been transfigured, He broke
the bonds wherewith the evil spirit had held the miserable child
bound. I always felt as if I must have known and loved that
boy, and been his playfellow in his happy days: and when I
grew older, then the distress of the father on account of his
lunatic son laid heavy at my heart. It must surely have all
been a foreboding of the wretched state of our young lord, whom
I love as if he were my own child; and now the words of the
weeping father in the Gospel often come into my mind,'I believe, Lord, help Thou mine unbelief;' and something of the
sort I may very likely have repeated to-day, as a chant or a
prayer. Reverend Father, when I reflect how one dreadful
imprecation of the father has kept its withering hold on the son,
all seems dark before me; but, God be praised! faith and hope
again bring light into my mind."




118                    SINTRAM,
" Good Rolf," said the priest, " I cannot clearly understand
what you say about the unhappy Sintram; for I do not know
when and how this affliction came upon him. If no oath or
solemn promise binds you to secresy, will you make known to
me all that is connected with it."
"Most willingly," replied Rolf. "I have long desired to
have an opportunity of so doing; but you have been almost
always separated from us. I dare not now leave the sleeping
boy any longer alone, and to-morrow, at the earliest dawn, I
must take him to his father. Will you come with me to our
poor Sintram's room?"
The chaplain at once took up the small lamp which Rolf
had brought with him, and they set off together along the
vaulted passage. When they reached the distant chamber,
they found the suffering child fast asleep. As the light of the
lamp fell on his countenance, it showed his ashy paleness.
The chaplain stood gazing at him for some time, and at length
said: Certainly from his birth his features were always sharp and
strongly-marked, but now they are almost fearfully so for such
a child. And yet, in spite of the strange expression they give,
I cannot help having a kindly feeling towards him, whether I
will or not."
" Most true, dear Sip," answered Rolf. And it was evident
how his whole heart rejoiced at any words which betokened affection or compassion for his beloved young lord. He proceedel to place the lamp where its light could not disturb the
sleeping child, ark seating himself close by the priest, he began
to speak in the following terms:
" During that Christmas-feast of which my lurd was talking
to you, he and his followers discoursed much concerning the
German merchants, and the best means of keeping down the
increasing pride and power of the larger trading-towns. At
length Biorn laid his impious hand on the golden boar's head,
and swore to put to death without mercy every German trader
whom  fate, in what way soever, might bring alive into his




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 119
power. The gentle Verena turned pale, and would have interposed-but it was too late, the fearful word was uttered. And
immediately afterwards, as though the great Enemy of souls
were determined at once to secure with fresh bonds the wretched
being who was thus devoted to him, a warder came into the
hall to announce that two citizens of a trading-town in Germany, an old man and his son, had been shipwrecked on this
coast, and were now without the gates, asking hospitality of the
lord of the castle. The knight could not refrain from shuddering; but he thought himself bound by his rash vow, and by
that accursed remnant of heathenism. We, his retainers, were
commanded to assemble in the castle-yard, armed with sharp
spears, which were to be hurled at the defenceless strangers at
the first signal made to us. F6r the first, and I trust the
last time in my life, I refused to obey the commands of my
lord; my refusal was uttered in a loud voice, and with the
firmest determination. The Almighty, who alone knows whom
He will accept, and whom He will reject, gave me at that moment the strength and resolution I needed. And Biorn might
perceive whence the refusal of his faithful old servant arose, and
that it was worthy of respect. He said to me, half in anger
and half in scorn:'Go up to my wife's apartments: her attendants are running to and fro, perhaps she is ill. Go up,
Roll the Good, and remain with the women, who seem the fittest
company for you.' I thought to myself,' Jest on;' but I went
silently the way that he had pointed out to me. On the stairs
I was met by two strange and very awful-looking beings, whom
[ had never seen before; and I am still at a loss to think how
they got into the castle. One of them was a great, tall man,
frightfully pallid and thin; the other was a dwarf-like man,
with a most hideous countenance and features. Indeed, when
I collected my thoughts and looked carefully at him, it appeared
to lne - "
Lowv moanings, and convulsive movements of the boy, here
interrupted the narrative.  Rolf and the chaplain hastened to
his bed-side, and perceived that his countenance wore an ex



120                    SINTRAM,
pression of fearful agony, and that he was struggling in vain to
open his eyes. The priest made the sign of the Cross over him,
and immediately peace seemed to be restored, and his sleep
again became calm and quiet: they both returned softly to their
seats.
"You see," said Rolf, " that it will not do to attempt a more
precise description of those two awful beings. Suffice it to say,
that they went down into the court-yard, and that I proceeded
to my lady's apartments. I found the gentle Verena almost
fainting with terror and overwhelming anxiety, and I hastened
to restore her with some of those remedies which the knowledge
God has given me of the healing virtues of many herbs and
minerals enabled me to apply. But scarcely had she recovered
her senses, when, with that air of calm resolve which you know
belongs to her, she desired me to conduct her down to the courtyard, saying that she must either put a stop to the fearful doings
of this night, or herself fall a sacrifice. Our way took us by
the little bed of the sleeping Sintram. Alas! I cannot keep
from tears when I think how evenly his gentle breath then
came and went, and how sweetly he smiled in his peaceful
slumbers."
The old man put his hands to his eyes, and wept bitterly;
but soon he resumed his sad story. "As we approached the
lowest window of the staircase, we could hear distinctly the
voice of the elder merchant, and on looking out, the light of the
torches shewed me his noble features, as well as the bright
youthful countenance of his son. "I take Almighty God to
witness,' cried he,'that I had no evil thought against this
house! But surely I must have fallen unawares amongst
heathens; it cannot be that I am in a Christian knight's castle:
and if you are indeed heathens, then kill us at once. And you,
my beloved son, be patient and of good courage; in heaven we
shall learn why it was ordained that we should meet our fate
here without one chance of escape.' I thought I could see
those two fearful ones amidst the throng of armed retainers
The pale one had a huge curved sword in his hand, the little




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 121
one held a spear notched in a strange fashion. Verena tore
open the window, and the silvery tones of her voice were heard
above the storm of that wild night, as she cried out-' My dear
est lord and husband, for the sake of your only child, have pity
on those harmless men! Save them from a bloody death, and
resist the temptation of the Evil Spirit.' The knight answered
in his fierce wrath-but I cannot repeat his words. He staked
his child on the desperate cast; he called death and the devil
to see that he kept his word:-but, hush! the boy is again
moaning. Let me bring the dark tale quickly to a close. Biorn
commanded his followers to strike, casting on them those fierce
looks which have gained him the title of Biorn of the-Fiery
Eyes; while at the same time the two frightful strangers seemed
to bestir themselves in the crowd with more activity than before.
Then Verena called out, in the extremity of her anguish,' Help,
O God, my Saviour!' Those two dreadful figures disappeared,
and the knight and his retainers, as if seized with blindness,
rushed wildly one against the other, but without doing injury
to themselves, or yet succeeding in striking the merchants, ewho
had so nearly fallen victims to Biorn's savage cruelty. They
bowed reverently towards Verena, and with calm thanksgivings
departed through the castle gates, which at that moment had
been burst open by a violent gust of wind, and now gave a free
passage to any who would go forth. The lady and I were yet
standing bewildered on the stairs, when I fancied I saw the two
fearful forms glide close by me, but there was such a cloudy,
unreal look about them, that I doubted, till Verena called to
me:'Rolf, did you see a tall pale man, and a little hideous
one with him, pass just now up the staircase?' I flew after
them; but, alas! when I reached the poor boy's room, I found
him already in the same state in which you saw him a few
hours ago. Ever since, the attack has come on him regularly
at this time, and he is in all respects fearfully changed. The
lady of the castle did not fail to discern the aventing hand of
Heaven in this calamity; and as the knight, her husband, instead of shewing signs of repentance, added each day to the




122                    SINTRAM,
number of his violent deeds, she resolved to take refuge in a
cloister; and tnere, by unremitting prayer, to obtain mercy in
time and eternity for herself and her unhappy child."
Rolf was silent; and the chaplain said, after some moments'
reflection: " I now understand why, six years ago, Biorn confessed his guilt to me in general terms, and consented that his
wife should take the veil. Some faint compunction must then
have stirred within him, and perhaps the traces of it may yet
exist. Anyhow it was impossible that so tender a flower as
Verena could remain longer in such rough keeping. But who
is there now to watch over and protect our poor Sintram?"
" The prayers of his mother are his safeguard," answered
Rolf. " Reverend Sir, when the first dawn of day appears, as it
does now, and when the morning breeze plays lightly around,
they always bring to my mind the soft-beaming eyes of my
lady, and I again seem to hear the sweet tones of her voice.
"And let us add our devout supplications to the Lord,"
said the chaplain: and he and Rolf knelt in silent and earnest
prayer by the bed of the pale sufferer, who soon began to
smile as he lay still dreaming.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 123
CHAPTER III.
THE rays of the sun shining brightly into the room, awoke Sintram, and raising himself up, he looked angrily at the chaplain, and said: " So there is a priest in the castle! And yet
that accursed dream continues to torment me even in his very
presence! A pretty sort of Priest he must be!"
" My child," answered the chaplain in the mildest tone, " I
have prayed for you most fervently, and I shall never cease
doing so-but God alone is Almighty."
"You speak very impertinently to the son of the great
knight, Biorn," cried Sintram. "' My child!' indeed! If those
horrible dreams had not been again haunting me, you would
make me laugh heartily."
" My young lord," said the chaplain, " I am by no means
surprised that you should not recognize me, for in truth
neither should I know you again." And his eyes filled with
tears as he spoke.
The good Rolf looked sorrowfully in the boy's face, saying,
"Ah! my dear young master, you are so much better than you
would make people believe. Why did you speak in that way?
Your memory is so good, that you must surely recollect your
kind old friend the chaplain, who used formerly to be constantly at the castle, and to bring you so many presents-bright coloured pictures of saints, and beautiful songs?"
" I know all that very well," replied Sintram thoughtfully.
"My blessed mother was alive in those days."
"Our gracious lady is still living, God be praised!" said
the good Rolf.
" But she does not live for us, poor sick creatures that we
are!' cried Sintram. " And why will you not call her blessed?  Surely she knows nothing about my dreams'?"




124                   SINTRAM
"Yes, she does know of them," said the chaplain, " and she
prays to God on your behalf. But take heed, and restrain that
wild, haughty temper of your's. It might, indeed, come to pass
that she no longer knew anything about your dreams, and that
would be if you were to die; and then the holy angels would
also cease to know any thing of you."
Sintram feld back on his bed as if thunderstrucc: and Rolf
said with a gentle sigh, "You should not speak so severely to
my poor sick child, Reverend Sir."
The boy again sat up, and with streaming eyes he turned towards the chaplain, saying in a kind and gentle tone: " Let
him do as he pleases, you good tender-hearted Rolf; he knows
very well what he is about. Would you reprove him if I were
slipping down a rocky precipice, and he were to catch me
roughly by the hair of my head in order to save me?"
The priest looked at him with emotion, and was about to
give utterance to some kind expression, when Sintram suddenly
sprang off the bed and asked after his father. As soon as he
heard of the knight's departure, he would not remain another
hour in, the castle; and when both the chaplain and the old
esquire expressed their fears lest a rapid journey should be
hurtful to him before he had shaken off the effects of his late attack, he said to them: " Believe me, Reverend Sir, and good
old Rolf, if I were not subject to these hideous dreams, there
would not be a bolder youth in the whole world; and even as
it is, I am not so far behind the very best. Besides, till another year has passed, there is no fear of my dreams again
troubling me."
Rolf obeyed a somewhat imperious sign from his young master, and went to prepare the horses. No sooner were they
brought out, than the boy threw himself unto his saddle, and
taking a courteous leave of the chaplain, he dashed along the
frozen valley that lay between the snow-clad mountains. He
had not ridden far, in company with his old attendant, when he
heard a strange indistinct sound proceeding from a neighbour
ing cleft in the ro-k; it was partly like the clapper of a small




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                125
mill, but mingled with that were hollow groans, and other
tones of distress. They directed their horses towards the place
whence the sounds came, and a wonderful sight presented itself
Ibefore them.
A tall man, deadly pale, in a pilgrim's garb, was striving
with violent though unsuccessful efforts, to work his way out of
the snow, and to get up the mountain; and at each exertion
which he made, a quantity of bones, which were hanging
loosely all about his garments, rattled one against the other,
and caused the mysterious sound already mentioned. Rolf,
much terrified, crossed himself, while the bold Sintram called
out to the stranger, "What art thou doing there? Give an
account of thy solitary labours."
U I live in death," replied that other one with a fearful grin.
" Whose are those bones which hang about thee 2"
" They are relics, young Sir."
" Art thou a pilgrim?"
~ I have no rest, no quiet; I go up and down the land."
" Thou must not perish here in the snow before my eyes."
"' That I will not."
" Thou must come up and sit on my horse."
" That I will do."
And all at once he started up out of the snow with surprising
strength and agility, and sprang on the horse behind Sintram,
clasping him tight in his long arms. The animal, startled by
the rattling of the bones, and as if seized with madness, rushed
away through the most trackless passes. The boy soon found
himself alone with his strange companion; for Rolf, breathless
with fear, spurred on his horse in vain, and remained far behind them  After slipping down the steep mountain side, which
was entirely covered with snow, into a narrow defile, the horse
seemed scmewhat to slacken his pace, but yet continued to
snort and foam as before, and could not be controlled. Still,
his headlong course being now changed into a rough irregular
trot, Sintram was able to breathe more freely, and to begin the
following discourse with his unknown companion.




126                    SINTRAM,
" Dra w thy garment closer round thee, thou pale man: the
bones will then rattle less, and I shall be able to curb my
horse."
" It would be of no avail, boy; it would be of no avail. The
bones must rattle."
"; Do not clasp me so tight with thy long arms, they are so
cold."
" It cannot be helped, boy; it- cannot be helped. Be content, For my long cold arms are not pressing yet on thy
heart."
"Do not breathe on me so with thy icy breath. All my
strength is departing."
"I must breathe, boy; I must breathe. But do not complain. I am not blowing thee away."
The strange dialogue here came to an end; for to Sintram's
surprise, he found himself on an open plain, over which the sun
was shining brightly, and at no great distance before him he
descried his father's castle. While he was doubting as to
whether he might invite the unearthly pilgrim to rest there, this
one put an end to his hesitation by throwing himself suddenly
off the horse, whose wild course was checked by the shock.
Raising his fore-finger, he said to the boy:
" I know old Biorn of the Fiery Eyes well: perhaps but too
well. Commend me to him. It will not need to tell him my
name; he will recognize me by the description you can give of
me."  So saying, the ghastly stranger turned aside into a thick
firwood, and disappeared amongst the tangled branches.
Slowly and thoughtfully Sintram rode on towards his father's
castle, his horse being now again quiet and almost exhausted.
He scarcely knew how much he ought to relate of his wonderful adventure, and he also felt oppressed with anxiety for the
good Rolf, who had remained so far behind. He found himself
at the castle-gate sooner than he had expected-; the drawbridge
was lowered, the doors were thrown open; an attendant led the
youth into the great hall, where Biorn was sitting all alone at
a huge table, with many flagons and glasscs before him, and




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                  127
suits of armor ranged on either side of him. It was his daily
custom, by way of company, to have the armor of his ancestors, with closed vizors, placed all round the table at which
he sat. The father and son began conversing as follows:
"Where is Rolf?"
"I do not know, father: I lost sight of him in the mountains.'
"I will have Rolf shot, if he cannot take better care than that
of my only child."
"T'hen, father, you will have your only child shot at the
same time, for without Rolf I cannot live; and if even one single dart is aimed at him, I will be there to receive it, and to
shield his true and faithful heart."
" Is it so?-Then Rolf shall not be shot, but he shall be
driven from the castle."
" In that case, father, you will see me go away also; and
I will give myself up to serve him in forests, in mountains, in
caves."
" Is it so — Well then, Rolf must remain here."
"That is just what I think, father."
" Were you riding quite alone?"
"No, father; but with a strange pilgrim: he said that he
knew you very well-perhaps, too well."  And thereupon Sintram began to relate and to describe all that had passed with
the pale man.
"I know him  also very well," said Biorn.  "He is half
crazed and half-wise, as we sometimes are astonished at seeing
that people can be. But do you, my boy, go to rest after your
wild journey. I give you my word that Rolf shall be kindly
received if he arrives here; and that if he does not come soon
he shall be sought for in the mountains."
"I trust to your word, father:" said Sintram, with a mixture
of pride and humility in his tone; and he proceeded to obey
the command of the grim lord of the castle.




1 28                  SINTRAM,
CHAPTER IV.
IT was getting towards evening when Sintram awoke. He saw
the good Rolf sitting at his bedside, and looked up in the old
man's kind face with a smile of unusual innocent brightness.
But soon again his dark brows were knizt and he asked: " How
did my father receive you, Rolf? Did he say a harsh word to
you?"
" No, my dear young lord, he did not-indeed, he did not
speak to me at all. At first he looked very wrathful; but he
controlled himself, and ordered a servant to bring me food and
wine to refresh me, and afterwards to take me to your room.',
"He might have kept his word better. But he is my father:
and I must not judge him too severely. I will now go down to
the evening meal." So saying, he sprang up and threw on
his furred mantle. But Rolf stopped him, and said in a tone
of entreaty: "My dear young master, you would do better to
take your meal to-day alone here in your own apartment. For
there is a guest with your father, in whose company I should
be very sorry to see you. If you will remain here I will entertain you with pleasant tales and songs."
" There is nothing in the world which I should like better,
dear Rolf," answered Sintram, "but it does not befit me to
shun the company of any man. Tell me, whom should I find
with my father?"
"Alas!" said the old mnan, "you have already found him in
the mountain. Formerly, when 1 used to ride about the country with Biorn, we often met with him, but I was forbidden to
tell you any thing about him; and this is the first time that he
has ever come to the castle."
"Oh. the crazy pilgrim!" replied Sintram; and he stood
some moments buried in thought, and apparently weighing the




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                129
whole matter in his mind. At last rousing himself he said:
"Dear old friend, I would most willingly stay here with you
this evening and listen to your stories and songs, and all the
pilgrims in the world should not make me leave this quiet room.
But one thing must be considered. I feel a kind of dread of
that pale, tall man, and by such fears no true knight's son can
ever suffer himself to be overcome. So do not be angry, dear
Rolf, if I determine to go and look that strange Palmer in the
face." And he shut the door of the chamber behind him, and
with firm and echoing steps proceeded to the hall.
The pilgrim and the knight were sitting opposite to each
other at the great table, on which many lights were burning;
and it was fearful, amongst all the lifeless armour, to see those
two tall grim men move, and eat, and drink. As the pilgrim
looked up on the boy's entrance, Biorn said: " You know him
already: he is my only child, and your fellow-traveller this
morning." The Palmer fixed an earnest look on Sintram, and
answered, shaking his head: " I do not know what you mean."
Then the boy burst forth impatiently: " It must be confessed
that you deal very unfairly by us! You say that you know my
father but too well, and now it appears that you do not know
me at all. Who allowed you to ride on his horse, and in return
had his good steed driven almost wild? Answer if you can!"
Biorn put on a somewhat displeased look, but was in truth
delighted at any such outbreak of his son's unruly temper;
while the pilgrim shuddered as if terrified and overcome by
some secret irresistible power. At length with a trembling
voice he said these words: i" Yes, yes, my dear young lord,
you are surely quite right; you are perfectly right in every
thing which you may please to assert."
Then the lord of the castle laughed aloud, and said: " Why,
you strange pilgrim, what is become of all your wonderfully
fine speeches and warnings now? Has the boy all at once
struck you dumb and powerless?  Beware, you prophet messenger, beware!" But the Palmer cast a fearful look on Biorn,
which seemed to quench the light of his fiery eyes, and said in
10




130                     SINTRAM,
thundering accents: " Between me and thee. old man. the case
stands quite otherwise. We have nothing to reproach each
other with.  And now suffer me to sing a song to you on the
lute." He stretched out his hand, and took down from the
wall an old worn out lute which was hanging there, and having with surprising skill and rapidity put it in a state fit to be
used, he struck some chords, and the low melancholy tones of the
instrument seemed well adapted to the words he began to sing:
" The flow'ret was mine own, mine own,
But I have lost its fragrance rare,
And knightly name and freedom fair,
Thro' sin, thro' sin alone.
The flow'ret was thine own, thine own,
Why cast away what thou didst win?
Thou knight no more, but slave of sin,
Thou'rt fearfully alone!"
"Have a care!" shouted he at the close in a pealing voice,
as he pulled the strings with such tremendous force that they
all broke, and a cloud of dust rose from the instrument, which
spread round him like a mist. Sintram had been watching
him narrowly whilst he was singing, and more and more did he
feel convinced that it was impossible that this man and his fellow-traveller of the morning could be one and the same person.
Every doubt was removed when the stranger again looked
round at him with the same timid, anxious air, and with many
excuses and low reverences replaced the lute in its former position, and then ran out of the hall as if bewildered with terror;
his manner forming a strange contrast with the proud and stately
deportment which he had assumed towards Biorn.
The eyes of the boy were now directed to his father, and he
perceived that he had sunk back senseless in his seat, as though
he had been struck by a sudden blow. Sintram's cries summoned Rolf and other attendants, but it was only by their united
exertions that they succeeded in restoring their lord to anima
tion; his looks were still wild and disordered, but he suffered
himself to be taken to'est without making any opposition.




AND HIS COMPANIONS                 131
CHAPTER V.
A LONG illness followed this sudden attack, and during the
course of it, the stout old knight, in the midst of his delirious
ravings, did not cease to affirm confidently that he must and
should recover at last. He would laugh proudly when his
fever fits came on, and rebuke them for daring to attack him so
needlessly. Then he would murmur to himself: "That was
not the right one yet; there must still be another one out in the
cold mountains."
At such expressions Sintram involuntarily shuddered; they
seemed to confirm his idea that the being who had ridden with
him, and he who had sat at table in the castle, were two quite
distinct persons: and he knew not why, but this thought was
an inexpressibly awful one to him.
Biorn recovered, and appeared to have entirely forgotten his
adventure with the Palmer. He hunted in the mountains, he
carried on his usual wild warfare with his neighbours, and
Sintram became his almost constant companion; whereby each
year the youth acquired a fearful increase of strength of body,
with an equal fierceness of spirit. Every one trembled at the
sight of his sharp pallid features, his dark rolling eyes, his tall,
muscular, and somewhat lean form,-and yet no one hated him,
not even those whom he distressed or injured to gratify his
wildest humours This might arise in part out of regard to old
Rolf, who seldom left him for long, and who always held a
softening influence over him; but also many of those who had
known the Lady Verena before she retired from the world,
affirmed that a faint reflection of the heavenly expression which
had lighted up her features, could often be traced in those of
her son, however unlike they might be in form,-and that by
this their hearts were won.




132                    SINTRAM
Once, just at the beginning of spring, Biorn and his son were
hunting in the neighbourhood of the sea coast, over a tract
of country which did not belong to them; drawn thither less by
the love of sport than by the wish of bidding defiance to a chieftain whom they detested, and thus exciting a feud. At that
season of the year, when his winter dreams had just passed off,
Sintram was always unusually fierce, and disposed for warlike
adventures, —and this day he was enraged at the chieftain for
not coming forth from his castle to attack the intruders with
armed force, and he cursed the cowardly patience and love of
peace whicL kept his enemy thus quiet. Just then one of his
wild companions rushed towards him, shouting joyfully: " Be
content, my dear young lord! I will wager that all is coming
about as we and you wish; for as I was pursuing a wounded
deer down to the sea-shore, I perceived a sail in sight, and a
vessel filled with armed men making for the shore. Doubtless
your enemy is intending to take you by surprise by coming in
this way."
Sintram, full of joy at the news, called his followers together
as secretly as possible, being resolved this time to take on himself alone the whole direction of the engagement which was
likely to follow; and then to rejoin his father, and astonish him
with the sight of captured foes, and other tokens of victory.
The hunters, thoroughly acquainted with every cliff and rock,
concealed themselves near the landing-place, and soon the strange
vessel was seen approaching nearer and nearer, till at length it
came to anchor, and its crew began to disembark in unsuspicious
security. At the head of them appeared a knight of high degree, in polished steel armour richly inlaid with gold. His head
was bare, for he carried his golden helmet in his left hand, and
as he looked around him with the air of one accustomed to command, none could fail to admire his noble countenance shaded
by dark brown locks, and animated by the bright smile which
played around his well-shaped mouth.
A feeling came across Sintram that he must have seen this
knight somewhere in by-gone times, and he stood motionless for




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                133
a few moments. But suddenly he raised his hand, to make the
preconcerted signal ot'attack. In vain did the good Rolf, who
had just succeeded in getting up to him, whisper in his ear that
these could not be the foes whom he had taken them for, but
that they were entire strangers, and evidently of no mean race.
" Let them be who they may," replied the wild youth, " they
have been the cause of my coming here, and they shall pay
dearly for having so deceived me. Say not another word, if
you value your life." And immediately he gave the signal;
a thick shower of javelins followed, and the Norwegian warriors rushed forth with flashing swords. They soon found that
they had to do with adversaries as brave, or braver than they
could have desired. More fell on the side of these who made
than of those who received the assault, and the strangers appeared to have a surprising knowledge of the mode of fighting
which belonged to those northern regions. The knight clad in
steel armour had not had time to put on his helmet, but it seemed
as if he in no-wise needed such protection, for his good sword
afforded him sufficient defence even against the spears and
darts which were incessantly hurled at him, as with rapid skill
he received them on the shining blade, and dashed them far
away shivered into fragments.
Sintram could not at the first onset pen.etrate to where this
valiant chief was standing, as all his followers, eager after
such a noble prey, thronged closely round him; but now the
way was cleared enough for him to spring towards the brave
stranger, shouting a war cry, and brandishing his sword above
his head. "Gabrielle!" cried the knight, as he dexterously
parried the heavy blow which was descending, and with one
powerful sword-thrust he laid his youthful antagonist prostrate
on the ground, then placing his knee on Sintram's breast, he
drew forth a dagger and held it at his throat. The men-at-arms
ranged themselves around-Sintram felt that no hope remained
for him. He determined to die as it became a bold warrior,
and without giving one sign of emotion, he looked on the fatal
weapon with a steady gaze.




134                    SINTRAM,
As he lay with his eyes cast upwards, he fancied that he saw
an apparition of a lovely feiaale form in a bright attire of blue
and gold. " Our ancestors told truly of the Valkyrias," murmured he. " Strike then, thou unknown conqueror."
But with this the knight did not comply, neither was it a
Valkyria who had so suddenly appeared, but the beautifill wife
of the stranger, who having advanced to the edge of the vassel,
had thus met the upraised look of Sintram. " Folko," cried
she, in the softest tone, "thou knight without reproach! I
know that thou wilt spare a vanquished foe." The knight
sprang up, and with courtly grace assisted the youth to rise,
saying, " You owe your life and liberty to the noble lady of
Montfauson. But if you are so far lost to all sense of honour
as to wish to resume the combat, here am I-let it be yours to
begin."
Sintram sank on his knees overwhelmed with shame and
remorse; for he had often heard speak of the high renown of
the French knight, Folko of Montfaucon, who was distantly
allied to his father's house, and of the grace and beauty of his
gentle lady, Gabrielle.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                135
CHAPTER v L
THE lord of Montfau(on looked with astonishmenet at his strange
adversary; and as he gazed on him, recollections arose in his
mind of that northern race from whom he was descended, and
with whom he had always maintained friendly relations. His
eye fell on a golden bear's claw, with which Sintram's cloak
was fastened, and the sight of that made all clear to him.
" Have you not," said he, " a valiant and far-famed kinsman
called the Sea-king Arinbiorn, whose helmet is adorned with
golden vulture wings? And is not your father the'knight
Biorn? For surely the bear's claw on your mantle must be
the cognizance of your house." Sintram gave a sign of assent,
but his deep sense of shame and humiliation did not allow him
to speak.
The knight of Montfauson raised him from the ground, and
said gravely, yet gently: " We are then of kin the one to the
other; but I could never have believed that any one of your
noble house would attack a peaceful man without provocation,
nay, even lie in wait to surprise him."
" Slay me at once," answered Sintram, " if indeed I am worthy to die by the hand of so renowned a knight-I can no
longer endure the light of day."' " Because you have been
overcome?" asked Montfaucon. Sintram shook his head. "Or
is it rather because you have committed an unknightly action?"
The glow of shame that overspread the youth's countenance
answered this question. " But you should not on that account
wish to die," resumed Montfaucon. "You should rather wish
to live that you may prove your repentance, and make your
name illustrious by many noble deeds. For you are endowed
with a bold spirit and with strength of limb, and also with the
quick eye of one fitted to command. I should have made you




136                   SINTRAM,
a knight this very hour, if you had borne yourself as bravely in
a good cause, as you have just now done in a most unworthy
one. See to it, that there may not be much delay in your receiving that high honour. I trust to your fulfilling the promise of good which is discernible in you."
A joyous sound of music interrupted his discourse. The
Lady Gabrielle, bright as the morning, had now come down
from the ship, surrounded by her maidens, and having been informed by Folko in a few words who his late adversary was,
she spoke of the combat as if it had only been a fair and honourable passage of arms, saying, " You must not be cast down,
noble youth, because my wedded lord has won the prize, for be
it known to you that in the whole world there is -but one knight
who can boast of not having been overcome by the baron of
Montfaugon. And who can say," continued she sportively,
-: whether even that would have happened, had he not set himself to win back the magic ring from me, from me his ladylove, destined to him, as well by the choice of my own heart,
as by the will of Heaven."
Folko bent his head smiling over the snow-white hand of his
lady, and then desired the youth to conduct them to his father's
castle. Rolf undertook to superintend the disembarking of the
horses and valuables of the strangers, filled with joy at the
thought that an angel in woman's form had appeared to exercise a softening influence over his beloved young master, and
perhaps even to free him from that curse under which he had
so long suffered.
Sintram sent messengers all around to seek for his father
and to announce to him the arrival of his noble guests. They
therefore found the old knight in his castle, with every thing
prepared for their reception. Gabrielle could not enter the
vast; dark-looking building without a slight shudder, which was
increased when she saw the rolling fiery eyes of its lord; even
the pale dark-haired Sintram seemed to her to assume a more
fearful appearance, and she sighed to herself: "Oh! what an
awful abode have you brought me to visit, my own true knight!




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                    137
Oh that we were once again in my sunny Gascony, or in your
knightly Normandy!"
But the grave yet courteous reception they met with, the
deep respect paid to her grace and beauty, and to the high fame
of Folko, helped to re-assure her; and ere long her buoyant
spirit took pleasure in observing all the strange novelties by
which she was surrounded.  And besides, it could only be for
a passing moment that any womanly fears found a place in her
breast when her lord was near at hand-for well did she know
what effectual protection that brave baron was ever ready to
afford to all those who were near to him, or anyway committed
to his charge.
Soon afterwards Rolf passed through the great hall in which
Biorn and his guests were seated, conducting their attendants,
who had charge of the baggage, to the apartments allotted to
strangers-and Gabrielle, catching sight of her favourite lute,
desired it might be brought to her, in order that she might see
if the precious instrument had suffered any damage.  As she
bent over it with earnest attention, and her taper fingers ran up
and down the strings, a smile, bright as the summer's dawn.
lighted up the countenances of Biorn and his son, and both said
with an involuntary sigh: " Ah! if you would but play on that
lute, and sing to it! It would be too enchanting!"  The lady
looked up at them well pleased, and smiling hei assent, she
began this song:Os Songs and flowers are returning
And radiant skies of May,
Earth her choicest gifts is yielding,
But one is past away.
The spring that clothes with tend'rest green,
Each grove and sunny plain,
Shines not for my forsaken heart,
Brings not my joys again.
Warble not so, thou nightingale,
Upon thy blooming spray,
Thiy sweetness now will burst my heart,
I cannot bear'thy lay.




I1:>8                  SINTRAM,
For flowers and birds are come again,
And breezes mild of May,
But treasured hopes and golden hours
Are lost to me for aye!"
The two Norwegians sat plunged in melancholy thought;
but gradually Sintram's eyes began to brighten with a milder
expression, his cheeks glowed, every feature relaxed, till those
who looked at him could have fancied they saw a glorified spirit.
The good Rolf who had stood listening to the song, rejoiced from
his heart as he gazed at him, and devoutly raised his hands in
pious gratitude to heaven. But Gabrielle's astonishment did
not suffer her to take her eyes off Sintram. At last she said to
him: "I should much like to know what it is that has so
struck you in that little song. It is merely a simple lay of the
spring, full of the images which that sweet season never fails
to call up in the minds of my countrymen."
"But is your home really so lovely, so wondrously full
of poetry and its delights?" cried the enraptured Sintram.
" Then I am no longer surprised at your heavenly beauty, at
the empire you have already gained over my hard, wayward
heart! For from such a paradise angelic messengers would
surely be sent to comfort and enlighten the dark desolate world
without." And so saying he fell on his knees before the lady
in an attitude of deep humility. Folko looked on all the while
with an approving smile, whilst Gabrielle, in much embarrassment, seemed hardly to know how she should treat the halfwild, yet courteous young stranger. After a little hesitation,
however, she extended her fair hand to him, and said as she
gently raised him: " Any one who listens with such delight
to music, must surely know how to awaken its strains himself.
Take my lute, and let us hear one of your spirit-stirring
songs."
Eat Sintram drew back, and would not take the instrument.
and he said: "Heaven forbid that my rough untutored hand
should touch those delicate strings! For even were I to begin
with some soft strains, yet before long the wild spirit which




AND HIS COMZPANIONS.                      139
dwells in me would break out, and the beautifull instrument
would assuredly be injured or destroyed. No, no, suffer me
rather to fetch my own huge harp, strung with bears' sinews
set in brass, for in truth 1 do feel myself inspired to play and
sing."
Gabrielle murmured a half-frightened assent, and Sintrain
having brought his harp, began to strike it loudly, and to sing
these words with a voice no less powerful:
" Sir Knight, Sir Knight, oh! whither away
With thy snow-white sail on the foaming spray?"
Sing heigh, sing ho, for the land of flowers!
"Too long have I trod upon ice and snow,
I seek the bowers where roses blow."
fSing heigh, sing ho, for the land of flowers!
He steered on his course byv night and day
Till he cast his anchor in Naples Bay.
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!
There wandered a Lady upon the strand,
Her fair hair bound with a golden band.
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!
" Hail to thee! hail to thee! Lady bright,
Mine own shalt thou be ere morning light."
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!
"' Not so, Sir Knight," the Lady replied,
"For you speak to the Margrave's chosen bride."
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!
"Your lover may come with his shield and spear,
And the victor shall win thee, Lady dear!"
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!
"Nay, seek for another bride, I pray,
Most fair are the maidens of Naples Bay."
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!' No, Lady, for thee my heart doth burn,
And the world cannot now my purpose turn."
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!




140                       SINTRAM,.
Then came the young Margrave, bold and brave,
But low was he laid in a grassy grave.
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!
And then the fierce Northman joyous cried,
"Now shall I possess lands, castle and Bride!"
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers!
Smntram's song was ended, but his eyes glared wildly, and
the vibrations of the harp-strings still resounded in a marvel.
lous manner. Biorn's attitude was again erect, he stroked his
long beard and rattled his sword as if in great delight at what
he had just heard. The wild song and the strange aspect of
the father and son made Gabrielle tremble more than ever, but
a glance towards the Lord of Montfauqon again quieted her
fears, for there he sat with a calm smile on his lips, as composed in the midst of all the noise as though it had only been
caused by a passing autumnal storm.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                141
CHAPTER VIL
SOMIE weeks had passed since this, when one day, as the shadows
of evening were beginning to fall, Sintram entered the garden
of the castle in a very disturbed state of mind. Although the
presence of Gabrielle never failed to sooth and calm him, yet
if she left the apartment for even a few instants, the fearful
wildness of his spirit seemed to return with renewed stiingth.
On this occasion, after having in the kindest manner read
legends of the olden times to his father Biorn during great part
of the day, she had retired to her own chamber. The sweet
tones of her lute could be distinctly heard in the garden below,
but the sounds only drove the agitated youth farther and farther
into the deep shades of the ancient trees which surrounded the
garden. Stooping suddenly to avoid some over-hanging branches, he started at finding himself close to something which he
had not perceived before, and which at first sight he took for a
small bear standing on its hind legs, with a wonderfully long
and crooked horn on its head. He drew back in surprise and.
fear, a shrill voice addressed these words to him: "Well, my
brave young knight, whence do you come? whither are you
going? and wherefore are you so terrified?" And then he became aware that what he saw was a little old man so wrapped
up in a rough garment of fur, that scarcely one of his features
was visible, and wearing in his cap a strange looking long
feather. "But whence do you come? and whither are yoln
going?" returned the angry Sintram. "For you are the person to whom such questions should be addressed. What business have you in our domains, you hideous little being?"
"Well, well," sneered the other one, " I am thinking that I
am quite big enough as I am. And as to the rest, why should
you object to my being here hunting for snails? Snails cannot




142                    SINTRAM,
surely be included in the game which your high mightinesses
consider that you alone hove a right to pursue? Now it hap.
pens that I know how to prepare from them an excellent highflavoured beverage; and I have taken a sufficient number for
to-day: marvellous fat little animals, with wise faces like a
man's, and long twisted horns on their heads. Would you like
to see them? Look here!"
And then he began to unfasten and fumble about his fur-garment, till Sintram, filled with disgust and horror, said. "' Psha I
I detest such animals! Be quiet, and tell me at once, who, and
what you yourself are." " Are you so bent upon knowing my
name?" replied the little man. "s Let it content you to hear
that I am Master of all secret knowledge, and well-versed in
the most intricate depths of ancient history. Ah! my young
Sir, if you would only hear some of the things I have to tell!
But you are too much afraid!"
" Afraid of you!" cried Sintram, with a wild laugh.
" Many a better man than you has been so before now," muttered the Little Master, "but they did not like being told of it
any more than you do."
" To prove that you are mistaken," said Sintram, "I will
remain here with you till the moon has risen high in the
heavens. But you must relate to me one of your stories the
while."
The little man nodded his head with a look of much satisfaction, and as they paced together up and down a retired walk
shaded by lofty elm-trees, he began discoursing as follows:" Many hundred years ago a young knight called Paris of
Troy lived in that sunny land of the south where are found
the sweetest songs, the brightest flowers, and the most beautiful
ladies. You know a song that tells'of that fair land, do you
not, young Sir?' Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers.' "
Sintram gave a sign of assent, and sighed deeply. "Now,"
resumed the little Master, " it happened that Paris led that kind
of life which is not uncommon in those countries, and of which
their poets often sing-he would pass whole months together in




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                143
the garb of a peasant, making the woods and mountains resound
to the tones of his lute, and watching the flocks which he led to
pasture. Here one day three beautiful goddesses appeared to
him, who were disputing about a golden apple-and they appealed to him to decide which of them was the most beautiful,
as to her the golden prize was to be adjudged. The first had
power to give thrones and sceptres and crowns to whom she
would-the second could give wisdom and knowledge —and the
third knew how to prepare love-charms which could not fail of
securing the affections of the fairest of women. Each one in
turn proffered her choicest gifts to the young shepherd, in order
that, tempted by thein, he might give the prize to her. But as
beauty tharmed him more than anything else in the world, he
decided that the third goddess should win the golden appleher name was Venus. The two others departed in great displeasure, but Venus bid him put on his knightly armour, and
his helmet adorned with waving feathers, and then she conducted him to a famous city called Sparta, where ruled the
noble King Menelaus. His young wife Helen was the loveliest
woman on earth, and the goddess offered her to Paris in return
for the golden apple. He was most ready to have her, and
wished for nothing better; but he asked how he was to gain
possession of her."
" Paris can have been but a sorry knight," interrupted Sintram. "Such things are easily settled. The husband is challenged to a single combat, and he that is victorious, carries off
the wife."
"But King Menelaus was exercising hospitality towards the
young knight," said the narrator.
" Listen to me, Little Master," cried Sintram, "he might
have asked the goddess for some other beautiful woman, and
then have mounted his horse, or weighed anchor, and departed
in search of her."
" Yes, yes, it is very easy to say so," replied the old man.
" But if you only knew how bewitchingly lovely this Queen
Helen was. After seeing her, no admiration was left for any




144                    SINTRAM,
one else." And then he began a glowing description of the
charms of this wondrously beautiful princess, giving to her
every one of Gabrielle's features with such exactness, that Sintram, overcome with emotion, was obliged to lean against a
tree to support himself. The Little Master stood opposite to
him, grinning, and he asked, " Well now, could you have advised that poor knight Paris to fly from her?"
"1 Tell me at once what happened next," stammered Sintram.
" The goddess acted honourably towards Paris," continued
the old man. "She declared to him that if he would carry
away the lovely princess to his own city Troy, he might do so,
and thus cause the ruin of his whole house and of his country;
but that during ten years he would be able to defend Troy
against his enemies and live happy in the love of his fair
lady."
"And he took her on those terms, unless he was a fool!"
cried the youth.
" To be sure he accepted them," whispered the Little Master.
"I would have done so in his place! And do you know,
young Sir, it once fell out that the appearance of things was
exactly like what we now see. The newly risen moon, partly
veiled by clouds, was shining dimly through the thick branches
of the trees in the silence of the evening. Leaning against a
tree, as you are now doing, there stood the young enamoured
knight Paris, and at his side the enchantress Venus, but so disguised and transformed, that she did not look much more attractive than [ do. And by the silvery light of the moon, the
form of the beautiful beloved one was seen sweeping by amidst
the whispering boughs." He was silent, and, as if to realize
his deluding words, Gabrielle just then appeared, musing as she
walked alone down the alley of elms. "Awful being, by what
name shall I call you? What is it that you would drive me
to?" muttered the trembling Sintram.
" Do not you remember your father's strong fortress on the
Rocks of the Moon?" replied'he old man. " The castellan and the




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                  145
garrison are entirely devoted to you. It could well stand a ten
years' siege, and the postern gate which leads to it is open, as
was that of the royal citadel of Sparta for the happy Paris."
T'he youth looked, and perceived in fact that a gate in the gar
den-wall, which was usually closed, had now been left open,
and that the distant mountains lighted up by the moon might
be clearly seen through it. " And if he did not accept, he was
a fool," said the Little Master, with a grin, echoing Sintramn's
former words. At that moment, Gabrielle drew near to him.
She was within reach of his grasp, had he made the, least
movement; and the moon as it shone on her heavenly countenance, gave new charms to it. The youth had already bent
forwards.
" My Lord and God, I pray
Turn from his heart away
This world's turmoil.
And call him to Thy light,
Be it through sorrow's night,
Through pain or toil."
These words were sung by old Rolf at that very time, as he
lingered on the banks of the lake by the castle, seeking a relief to his anxious thoughts concerning Sintram in the fervent
supplications he addressed to the Almighty. The sounds reached Sintram's ear; he stood as if spell-bound, and made the sign
of the Cross. Immediately theLittle Master fled away, jumping uncouthly on one leg through the gates and shutting them
after him with a loud noise.
Sintram approached the terrified Gabrielle, and said as he
offered his arm to support her: " Suffer me to lead you back
to the castle. The nights in these northern regions are often
wild and fearful."
11




116                    SINTRAM.
CHAPTER VIII.
THEY found the two knights within sitting together, after their
evening repast. Folko was relating stories in his usual mild
and cheerful manner, and Biorn was listening with a moody air,
but yet as if against his will the dark cloud might pass away
under the influence of his companion's bright and gentle courtesy. Gabrielle saluted the baron with a smile, and signed to
him to continue his discourse, as she took her place next to
Biorn, with the watchful kindness which ever marked her bearing towards him. Sintram the while stood by the hearth, abstracted and melancholy, and the embers, as he stirred them,
cast an unnatural gleam over his pallid features.
"And of all the German trading towns," continued Montfaupon, " the largest and richest is Hamburgh. In Normandy
the merchants of this city are always received with a hearty
welcome, and those excellent people never fail to prove themselves our friends when we seek their advice and assistance.
When I first visited Hamburgh, every honour and respect was
paid me. I found its inhabitants engaged in a war with a
neighbouring prince, and immediately I devoted my sword to
their service, and that not without success."
"Your sword! your knightly sword!" interrupted Biorn,
and more than the wonted fire flashed from his eyes. " You
turned it against a knight, and on behalf of shopkeepers!"
" Sir knight," replied Folko calmly, "the barons of Montfaumon have ever been used to take the side which they esteemed the right one in combats, without consulting indifferent
bystanders, and as I have received this good custom from my
forefathers, so do I wish to hand it on to my remotest descendants. If you do not esteem  this a wise practice, you are at




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 147
liberty to speak your opinion freely. But I cannot suffer you
to say anything against the people of Hamburgh after I have
declared them to be my friends and allies."
Biorn cast down his fierce eyes to the ground, and their wild
expression seemed to fade away. He said in a subdued tone:
" Proceed, noble baron. You are right, and I am wrong." Then
Folko stretched out his hand to him across the table, and resumed his narration: " Amongst all my beloved Hamburghers
the dearest to me are two very remarkable men-a father and
son. What have they not seen and done in the remotest corners of the earth! and how has every talent been devoted to
the good of their native town! My life has by the blessing of
God been not unfruitful in deeds of renown, but in comparison
with the wise Gotthard Lenz and his stout-hearted son Rudlieb,
I look upon myself as nothing but an esquire who has perhaps
some few times attended knights to tourneys, and besides that
has never gone out of his own forests. They have carried the
light of religion, and with it happiness and peace, to savage nations whose very names are unknown to me, and the wealth
which they have brought back from those distant climes has all
been given to promote the common welfare as unhesitatingly as
if no other use could possibly be devised for it. On their return from their long and perilous sea voyages, they hasten to
an hospital which has been founded by them and of which they
undertake the entire charge. Then they proceed to select the
most fitting spots whereon to erect new towers and fortresses
for the defence of their beloved country. Next they repair to
the houses where strangers and travellers receive hospitality at
their cost —and then they return to their own abode, where
guests are entertained with a splendour worthy of a king's palace, and yet with the unassuming simplicity of manners which
is thought only to belong to the shepherd's cot. Many a tale
of their wvondrous adventures serves to enliven these sumptuous
feasts. Amongst others, I remember to have heard my friends
relate one at the thought of which I still shudder. Possibly I




148                     SINTRAM,
may gain some more complete information on the subject from
you. It appears that several years ago, just about the time of
the Christmas festival, Gotthard and Rudlieb were shipwrecked
on the coast of Norway, during a violent winter's tempest;
they could never exactly ascertain the situation of the rocks
on which their vessel stranded; but so much is certain, that
very near the sea-shore stood a huge castle to which the father
and son betook themselves, seeking for that assistance and shelter which Christian people are ever willing to afford each
other in case of need. They went alone, leaving their follow
ers to watch the ship.  The castle gates were thrown open, and
they thought all was well.  But on a sudden the court-yard
was filled with armed men, who with one accord aimed their
sharp iron-pointed spears at the defenceless strangers, whose
dignified remonstrances and mild entreaties were only heard
in sullen silence or with scornful jeerings. After a while a
knight came down the stairs, his eyes, so to speak, flashing fire,
they hardly knew whether to think they saw some fearful apparition, or a wild heathen-he gave a signal, and the fatal
spears closed around them.  At that instant the soft tones of a
woman's voice fell on their ear; she was calling on the Saviour's
holy name for aid; at the sound, the wild figures in the courtyard rushed madly one against the other, the gates burst open,
and Gotthard and Rudlieb fled away, catching a glimpse as
they went of an angelic face which appeared at one of the windows of the castle. They made every exertion to get their
ship again afloat, preferring to trust themselves to the treacherous sea, rather than to remain or that barbarous coast, and at
last they landed in Denmark after encountering many perils
and dangers. They have always said that it must have been
a Heathen's castle in which they were so cruelly treated, but
I am rather disposed to think it was some ruined fortress, long
deserted by men, in which evil spirits were wont to hold their
nightly assemblies, for is it possible to imagine that even a
Heathen could be found with so much of a demon's temper as




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 149
to meet strangers, asking for hospitality, with deadly weapons,
instead of the refreshment and shelter they needed?"
Biorn gazed fixedly on the ground, as though he were turned
into stone-but Sintram came towards the table, and said:
" Father, let us seek out this wicked abode, and let us level it
to the ground. I cannot tell how, but I feel quite sure that the
accursed deed we have just heard of is alone the cause of my
frightful dreams."  Enraged at his son's words, Biorn rose up,
and would perhaps again have uttered some dreadful imprecation, but Heaven decreed otherwise, for just at that moment the
pealing notes of a trumpet were heard, which drowned the an
gry tones of his voice; the great doors opened slowly, and a
herald entered the hall. He bowed reverently, and then said:
"I am sent by Jarl Eric the aged. He returned two days ago
from his expedition to the Grecian seas. His wish had been to
take vengeance on the island which is called Chios, where fifty
years ago his father was slain by the soldiers of the Emperor.
But your kinsman, the sea-king Arinbiorn, who was lying there
at anchor, tried to pacify him and to turn him from his purpose
-to this Jarl Eric would not listen-so the sea-king said next
that he would never suffer Chios to be laid waste, because it
was an island where the lays of an old Greek bard, called
Homer, were excellently sung, and where moreover a very
choice wine was made. Words proving of no avail, a combat
ensued, in which Arinbiorn had so much the advantage that
Jarl Eric lost two of his ships, and only with difficulty escaped
in one which had already sustained great damage. Eric the
aged has now resolved to take revenge on some of the seaking's race, since Arinbiorn himself is rarely to be found. Will
you, Biorn of the Fiery Eyes, at once pay as large a penalty
in cattle and goods of whatever description, as it may please the
Jarl to demand? Or will you prepare to meet him with an
armed force at Niflung's Heath seven days hence?"
Biorn bowed his head quietly, and replied in a mild tone:
"Seven days hence at Niflung's Heath."  He then offered to




150                    SINTRAM,
the herald a golden goblet full of rich wine, and added: " Drink
that, and then carry off with thee the cup which thou hast
emptied."
"The Baron of Montfaucon likewise sends greeting to thy
chieftain Jarl Eric," interposed Folko, "and engages to be also
at Niflung's Heath, as the hereditary friend of the sea-king's
house, and also as being the kinsman and guest of Biorn of the
Fiery Eyes."
The herald was seen to tremble at the name of Montfaucon,
he bowed very low, cast an anxious, reverential look at the
baron, and left the hall. Gabrielle looked on her knight with
a smile that spoke of entire trust in his valour, when she heard
him pledge himself to appear in the field, and she only asked,
"Where shall I remain whilst you go forth to battle, Folko?"
" I had hoped," answered Biorn, " that you would be well contented to stay in this castle, lovely lady; I leave my son to
guard you and attend on you." Gabrielle hesitated an instant,
and Sintram, who had resumed his position near the fire, muttered to himself as he fixed his eyes on the bright flames which
were flashing up: " Yes, yes, so it will probably happen. I
can fancy that king Menelaus had just left Sparta on some
warlike expedition when the young knight Paris met the lovely
Helen that evening in the garden." But Gabrielle, shuddering, although she knew not why, said quickly: "Remain here
without you, Folko? And how could I bear to forego the joy
of seeing you win fresh laurels? or the honour of tending you,
should you chance to receive a wound?" Folko bent his head
in acknowledgment of his lady's anxious tenderness, and replied: " Come with your own true knight, since such is your
pleasure, and be to him a bright guiding star. It is a good old
northern custom that ladies should be present at knightly combats, and no true warrior of the north will fail to respect the
place whence beams the light of their eyes. Unless indeed,"
continued he, with an inquiring look at Biorn, "unless Jarl
Eric has degenerated from his valiant forefathers?"




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 151
" His honour may be relied on," said Biorn, confidently.
" Then array yourself, my fairest love," said the delighted
Folko, "array yourself, and come forth with us to the battlefield, to behold and judge our knightly deeds."
" Come forth with us to the battle-field," echoed Sintram. in
a sudden transport of joy.
And they all dispersed; Sintram betaking himself again to
the wood, while the others retired to rest




152                  SINTRAM,
CHAPTER IX.
IT was a wild, dreary tract of country that which bore the
name of Niflung's Heath. According to tradition, the young
Niflung, son of Hogni, the last of his race, had there ended in
sadness and obscurity a life which no warlike deeds had rendered illustrious. Many ancient monuments of the dead were
still standing round about, and in the few oak-trees scattered
here and there over the plain, huge eagles had built their
nests —the beating of their heavy wings as they fought together,
and their wild screams, were heard far off in regions more
thickly peopled by man, and at the sound children would tremble in their cradles, and old men quake with fear as they sat
over the blazing hearth.
As the seventh night, the last before the day of combat, was
just beginning, two large armies were seen descending from the
hills in opposite directions: that which came from the west was
commanded by Eric the aged, that from the east by Biorn of
the Fiery Eyes. They appeared thus early in compliance with
the custom which required that adversaries should always present themselves at the appointed field of battle before the time
named, in order to prove that they rather sought than dreaded
the hour of trial. Folko immediately chose out the most convenient spot for the tent of blue and gold to be pitched, which
was to shelter his gentle lady; whilst Sintram, in the character of herald, rode over to Jarl Eric to announce to him that
the beauteous Gabrielle of Montfauson was there guarded by
his father's warriors, and would the next morning be present as
a judge of the combat.
Jarl Eric bowed low on receiving this intelligence, and ordered his bards to strike up a lay, the words of which ran as
follows:



AND HIS COMPANIONS.                    153
"Wa:i.'ors bold of Eric's band,
Gird your glittering armour on,
Stand beneath to-morrow's sun,
In your might.
Fairest dame that ever gladdened
Our wild shores with beauty's vision,
May thy bright eyes o'er our combat,
Judge the right.
Tidings of yon noble stranger
Long ago have reached our ears,
Wafted upon southern breezes,
O'er the wave.
Now midst yonder hostile ranks,
In his warlike pride he meets us,
Folko comes! Fight, men of Eric,
True and brave!"
These wondrous tones floated over the plain, and reached the
tent of Gabrielle. It was no new thing to hear her knight's
fame celebrated on all sides, but now that she listened to his
praises bursting forth in the stillness of night from the mouth of
his enemies, she could scarcely refrain from kneeling at the feet
of the mighty chieftain. But he with courteous tenderness prevented her from  sinking into that lowly posture, and pressing
his lips fervently on her snow-white hand, he said: " Mv deeds,
oh lovely lady, belong to thee, and not to me!"
No sooner had the darkness of night passed away, and the
red streaks in the east announced the arrival of the appointed
morning, than the whole plain seemed alive with preparations
for the combat: knights put on their rattling armoul, warhorses began to neigh impatiently, the morning-draught went
round in gold and silver goblets, while war-songs and the harps
of the bards resounded far and near. A joyous march was
heard in Biorn's camp, as Montfauwon, with his troops and retainers, all clad in.bright steel armour, conducted their lady
up to a neighbouring hill, where she would be safe from the
spears which would soon be flying in all directions, and whence
she could command a complete view of the battle-field. The




154                     SINTRAM,
morning sun lighted up her lovely features, adding radiance to
her surpassing beauty, and as she came in view of the camp of
Tard Eric, his soldiers lowered their weapons, whilst the chieftains bent their proud heads which were covered with huge helmets.  Two of Montfauon's pages remained in attendance on
the lady Gabrielle, well content to exchange their hopes of
gaining renown in the battle-field for the far greater honour of
being chosen to fulfil this office. Both armies passed in front
of her, saluting her as they went; they then placed themselves
in array, and the fight began.
The spears flew from the hands of the stout northern warriors, rattling against the broad shields under which they sheltered themselves, or sometimes clattering as they met in the
air; at intervals, on one side or the other, a man was struck,
and fell bathed in his blood. After a short pause, the knight
of Montfaupon advanced with his troop of Norman horsemeneven as he dashed past, he did not fail to lower his shining sword
to salute Gabrielle, and then, with a loud exulting war-cry,
which burst from the lips of all, they charged the left wing of
the enemy. Eric's foot-soldiers, kneeling firmly in close ranks,
received them with fixed javelins —many a noble horse fell
wounded to death, and in falling brought his rider with him to
the ground —others again crushed their foes under them as they
writhed in mortal agonies. In the midst of the confusion and
bloodshed, Folko and his war-steed escaped unhurt, and followed by a small band of chosen men, he dashed through the hostile ranks. Already were they falling into disorder, already
were Biorn's warriors giving shouts of victory, when a troop of
horse, headed by Jarl Eric himself, advanced against the valiant Baron of Montfaupon; and whilst his Normans, hastily assembling round their leader, assisted him in repelling this unexpected attack, the enemy's infantry were gradually forming
themselves into a thick impenetrable mass, which rolled on in
formidable strenogth.  All these movements seemed to be directed by a warrior in the centre, whose loud piercing shout




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                    155
was heard at every instant.  And scarcely were the troops
formed into this close array, when suddenly they spread themselves out on all sides, carrying every thing before them  with
the irresistible force of the burning torrent from a volcano.
Biorn's soldiers, who had thought themselves on the point of
enclosing their enemies, gave way at once before this wondrous
onset. The knight himself in vain attempted to stem the tide of
fugitives, and with difficulty escaped being carried away by it.
Sintram stood looking on this scene of confusion with mute
indignation; friends and foes passed by him, all equally avoiding him, and dreading to come in contact with one whose aspect was so fearful, nay almost unearthly, in his motionless
rage. He aimed no blow either to right or left, his powerful
battle-axe hung idly at his side. But his eye flashed fire, and
seemed to be piercing the enemy's ranks through and through,
in the endeavor to find out who it was that had conjured up
this sudden warlike spirit. At length he discovered the object
of his search. A small man clothed in strange-looking armor,
with large golden horns in his helmet, and a long visor, advancing in front of it, was leaning on a two-edged curved spear,
and seemed to be looking with derision at the hasty flight of
Biorn's troops as they were pursued by their victorious foes.
"That is he," cried Sintram, "he who would bring me to disgrace before the eyes of Gabrielle 1"  And with the swiftness of
an arrow he flew towards him, uttering a wild shout of defiance.
The combat was fierce, but not of long duration. To the wondrous dexterity of his adversary, Sintram  opposed his far superior strength and height, and he dealt such a tremendous blow
on the horned helmet that a stream of blood rushed forth, the
small man fell as if stunned, and after some frightful convulsive
movements, his limbs appeared to stiffen in death.
His overthrow gave the signal for that of all Eric's army,
Even those who had not seen him fall, suddenly lost their
courage, and again retreated in confusion, or ran in wild af



156                     SINTRAM,
fright on the very spears of their enemies. At the same time
Montfau;on was dispersing Jarl Eric's cavalry, after a desperate
conflict, and had taken their chief prisoner with his own hand.
Biorn of the Fiery Eyes stood victorious in the middle of the
field of battle. The day was won.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                157
CHAPTER X.
IN full view of both armies, with glowing cheeks and looks of
modest humility, Sintram was conducted by the brave baron
of Montfau;on up the hill where Gabrielle stood in all the lustre
of her beauty. Both warriors bent the knee before her, and
Folko said with much solemnity: c" Lady, this valiant youth of
a noble race has borne away the palm of victory to-day. I pray
you to let him receive from your fair hand the reward to which
he is so justly entitled."
Gabrielle bowed courteously, took off her scarf of blue and
gold, and fastened to it a bright sword which a page brought to
her on a cushion of cloth of silver. She then with a smile
presented her precious gift to Sintram, who was bending for
ward to receive it, when suddenly Gabrielle drew back, and
turning to Folko, she said: c" Noble baron, should not he, on
whom I bestow a scarf and sword, be first admitted into the
order of knighthood?" Folko sprang up, and bowing low before his lady, gave the youth the accolade with solemn earnestness. Then Gabrielle buckled on his sword, saying: "Take
this for the honour of God and the service of noble ladies,
young knight. I saw you fight, I saw you conquer, and my
fervent prayers were offered up for you. Fight and conquer
often again as you have done this day, that the fame of your
deeds may be wafted even to my far distant country." And at
a sign from Folko, she offered her cheek for the new knight to
kiss. Thrilling all over, and full of a holy joy, Sintram arose
in deep silence, ani tears streamed down his cheeks, whilst the
shout of the assembled troops greeted the enraptured youth
with stunning applause. Old Rolf stood silently on one side,
and as he saw the mild beaming expression in his beloved
pupil's countenance, he calmly and piously returned thanks.




158                    SINTRAM,
The strife is now at an end —rich blessings are showered
down-the evil foe is slain."
Biorn and Jarl Eric had the while been talking together with
eagerness but not with animosity. The conqueror now led his
vanquished enemy up the hill, and presented him to the baron
and Gabrielle, saying: "Illstead of two enemies, you now see
two sworn allies, and I request you, my beloved guests and
kinsfolk, to receive him  graciously as one who, from  henceforward, belongs to us."  "He was ever one with you in
heart,"  added Eric, smiling; "I have indeed sought for revenge of former wrongs, but I have now had enough of defeats
both by sea and land. Yet I thank Heaven, that neither in the
Grecian seas, nor on Niflung's Heath, have I shown myself
wanting in valor."  The lord of Montfaucon assented cordially, and the terms of peace were agreed on with entire good
will. Jarl Eric then addressed Gabrielle in so courtly a manner
that she could not refirain friom looking on the gigantic old warrior
with a smile of astonishment, and she gave him her hand to kiss.
Meanwhile Sintram was standing apart, speaking earnestly
to his good Rolf, and at length he was heard to say: " But before all, be sure that you bury that wonderfully brave knight
whom my battle-axe laid low. Choose out the greenest hill for
his resting-place, and the loftiest oak to shade his grave. Also
I wish you to open his visor and to examine his countenance
carefully, lest the blow should only have deprived him of motion, not of life; and moreover, that you may be able to give
me an exact description of him to whom I owe the noblest,
most precious prize ever adjudged to man."
Rolf departed to execute his orders.  "Our young knight
is speaking there of one amongst the slain, of whom I should
like to hear more," said Folko, turning to Jarl Eric. " Who was
the wonderful chieftain who rallied your troops in so masterly
a manner, and who at last fell under Sintram's powerful weapon?"
"You ask me more than I know how to answer," replied




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 159
Jarl Eric.  "About three nights ago, this stranger made his
appearance amongst us. I was sitting with my chieftains and
warriors round the hearth, forging our armour, and singing the
while. Suddenly, above the din of our hammering and our
singing, we heard so loud a noise that it silenced us in a moment, and we sat motionless as if we had been turned into
stone. The sound continued equally stunning, and at last we
made out that it must be caused by some person blowing a huge
horn outside the castle, in order to obtain admittance. I went
down myself to the gate, and as I passed through the courtyard I perceived that all my dogs were so terrified by the extraordinary noise as to be howling and crouching in their kennels, instead of barking at the intruders. I scolded them, and
called to them, but even the fiercest would not follow me.' Then,'
thought I to myself,' I must shew you the way to set to work;'
so I grasped my sword firmly, I set my torch on the ground
close beside me, and I let the gates fly open without further delay. For I well knew that it would be no easy matter for any
one to effect an entrance against my will. A loud laugh greeted me, and I heard these words:'Well, well, what mighty
preparations are these before one small man is allowed to find
the shelter he seeks!' And in truth I did feel myself redden
with shame when I saw the small stranger standing opposite to
me, quite alone. I called to him to come in at once, and offered my hand to him; but he still showed some displeasure, and
would not give me his in return. As he went up, however, he
became more friendly, he showed me the golden horn on which
he sounded that blast, and which he carried screwed on his hellnet, as well as another exactly like it. When he was sitting
with us in the hall, he behaved in a very strange mannersometimes he was merry, sometimes cross, by turns courteous
and rude in his demeanour, without any one being able to see
a motive for such constant changes. I longed to know where
he came from, but how could I ask my guest such a question 2
He told us as much as this, that he was starved with cold in our
country, and that his own was much warmer. Also he appear



160                   SINTRAM,
ed' well acquainted with the city of Constantinople, and related
fearful stories of how brothers, uncles and nephews, nay even
fathers and sons, had been known there to drive each other from
the throne, and to exercise such cruelties as putting out eyes,
and cutting out tongues when they stopped short of murdering
their opponents. At length he said his own name; it sounded
harmonious, like a Greek name, but none of us could remember
it. Before long, he displayed his skill as an armourer. He
understood marvellously well how tc handle the rid-hot iron,
and how to form it into weapons of a more murderous nature
than any I had ever before seen. I would not suffer him to go
on making them, for I was resolved to meet you in the field
with such arms only as you would yourselves bear, and as we
are all used to in our northern countries. Then he laughed,
and said he thought it would be quite possible to be victorious
without their aid, provided address and dexterity were not wanting, and so forth; if only I would entrust the command of my
infantry to him, I might depend upon success. It occurred to
me that he who was so skilled in forging arms must also wield
them well —yet I required some proof of his powers. Sir knight,
he came off victorious in trials of strength, more surprising than
any you could imagine-and although the fame of young Sintram as a bold and brave warrior is spread far and wide, yet I
can scarce believe that he really succeeded in slaying such an
one as my Greek ally showed himself to be."
He would have continued speaking, but the good Rolf here
made his appearance hastening towards them, followed by a
few attendants, the whole party looking so ghastly pale that all
eyes were involuntarily fixed on them, and every one waited
anxiously to hear what tidings they brought. Rolf stood still,
silent and trembling.
"Take courage, my old friend!" cried Sintram. "Whatever you may have to tell will come forth clear and true from
your honest lips."  " My dear master," began the old man, " be
not angry, but as to burying that strange warrior whom you
slew, it is a thing impossible. Would that we had never opened




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                  161
that wide, hideous visor! For so horrible a countenance grinned
at us from underneath it, so distorted by death, and with such
a fiendish expression, that we hardly kept our senses. We
could not by any possibility have touched him. I would rather
be sent to kill wolves and bears in the desert, and look on whilst
fierce birds of prey feast on their carcasses."
All present shuddered, and were silent-till Sintram nerved
himself to say: " Dear good old man, why use such wild words
as I never till now heard you utter? But tell me, Jarl Eric,
did your ally present such an awful appearance while he was
yet alive?"
"I do not call it to mind," answered Jarl Eric, looking inquiringly at his companions who were standing around. They
said the same thing as their lord; but on further questioning,
it appeared that neither the chieftain, nor the knights, nor the
soldiers, could say exactly what the stranger was like.
"We must then find it out for ourselves, and bury the
corpse," said Sintram; and he signed to the assembled party to
follow him. All did so, except the lord of Montfauson, whom
the whispered entreaty of Gabrielle kept at her side. He lost
nothing by remaining behind: for though Niflung's Heath was
searched from one end to the other many times, yet the body of
the unknown warrior was never again discovered.




162                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XI.
THE joy and serenity which came over Sintram's soul on this
day appeared to be much more than a passing gleam. If still
an occasional thought of the knight Paris and the fair Helen
would for a moment make his heart beat wildly, it needed but
one look at his scarf and sword to restore calmness within.
" What can any man wish for more than has been already bestowed on me?" would he say to himself at such times, in deep
emotion. And thus it went on for a long while.
The autumn, so beautiful in those northern climes, had already begun to redden the leaves of the old oaks and elms round
the castle, when one day it chanced that Sintram found himself
seated in company with Folko and Gabrielle, in almost the very
same spot in the garden where he had before met that mysterious being whom, without knowing why, he had named the
Little Master. But on this day in what a different light did
every thing appear! The sun was sinking slowly over the
sea, -the mist of an autumnal evening was rising from the
fields, and wreathing itself round the hill on which stood the
huge castle. Gabrielle, placing her lute in Sintram's hands,
said to him: " Dear youth, I no longer fear entrusting my delicate favourite to you, now that you are become so mild and
gentle. Let me again hear you sing that lay of the land of
flowers, for I am sure that it will now sound much sweeter
than when you accompanied it with the vibrations of your
fearful harp."
The young knight bowed as he prepared to obey the lady's
commands. With a grace and softness hitherto strangers to
him, the wild strains flowed from his lips, and appeared to lose
their former character, and to change into harmony to which
angels might have listened. Tears stood in Gabrielle's eyes;




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                163
and Sintram, as he gazed on the bright pearly drops, poured
forth tones of yet richer sweetness. When the last notes were
sounded, Gabrielle's angelic voice was heard to echo them, and
as she repeated
" Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers,"
Sintram put down the lute, and raised his thankful eyes towards the stars, which were now stealing out and studding the
whole face of the sky. Then Gabrielle, turning towards her
lord, murmured these words: "Oh, how long have we been
wandering far away from our own sunny hills and bright gardens! Oh! for that land of the sweetest flowers!"
Sintram could scarce believe that he heard aright, so suddenly did he feel himself as if shut out from paradise. But his
faint hopes of being mistaken were crushed by the assurance of
Folko, that he would endeavour to fulfil his lady's wishes with
all possible speed, and that their ship was lying off the shore
ready to put to sea. She thanked him with a kiss imprinted
softly on his forehead; and leaning on his arm she bent her
steps towards the castle.
The wretched Sintram, neglected and forgotten, remained
behind, motionless as if he had been turned to stone. At length,
when the darkness of night had spread itself over the whole
sky, he started up wildly, ran up and down the garden as if all
his former madness had taken possession of him, and then
rushed out, and wandered upon the hills in the pale moonlight.
There he dashed his sword against the trees and bushes, so
that all around was heard a sound of crashing and falling, the
birds of night flew about him screeching in wild alarm, and the
deer, startled by the noise, sprung away to take refuge in the
thickest coverts.
On a sudden old Rolf appeared, returning home from a visit
to the chaplain of Drontheim, to whom he had been relating with
tears of joy, how Sintram was subdued by Gabrielle's mild influence, and how they might venture to hope that his evil
dreams would never again disturb his mind. And now the




164                    SINTRAM,
sword of the furious youth had well-nigh wounded the old man
in some of its fearful thrusts to right and left. He stopped
short, and, clasping his hands, he said with a deep sigh: " Alas,
my beloved Sintram, my foster-child! what madness has seized
you, and made you thus wild and frantic?"
The youth stood awhile as if spell-bound, he looked in his
old friend's face with a fixed and melancholy gaze, and his eyes
became dim, like expiring watch-fires seen through a thick
cloud of mist. At length he sighed forth these words, almost
inaudibly: "Good Rolf, good Rolf, depart from me! I have
been cast out of your garden of delight; and if sometimes a
light breeze blows open its golden gates so that I can look in and
see the sunny spot where heavenly inhabitants wander to and
fro, then immediately a cruel cutting wind arises, which shuts
to the gates, and I remain without, to pass a never-ending
winter in cheerless desolation."
"Beloved young knight, oh! listen to me;-listen to the
voice of the good Spirit within you! Do you not bear in your
hand that very sword which the bright lady you serve girded
you with? Does not her scarf wave over your wildly beating
heart? Do you not recollect how you used to say, that no
mortal could wish for more than had been bestowed -on yourself?"
"Yes, Rolf, I have said that," replied Sintram, sinking on
the mossy turf, drowned in bitter tears. The old man wept
also. Before long the youth stood again erect, his tears ceased to
flow, his countenance assumed a cold terrible expression, and
he said: " You see, Rolf, I have passed such blessed peaceful
days, and I thought within myself that the powers of evil would
never again have dominion over me. So, perchance, it might
have been, just as much as daylight would always last were
the sun never to go below the horizon. But ask the poor benighted earth, wherefore she looks so dull and dark! Bid her
again smile as she was wont to do! Old man, she cannot
smile;-and now that the gentle compassionate moon has disappeared behind the clouds with her sadly-soothing funeral veil,




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 165
she cannot even weep. And in this hour of darkness, all that is
wild and awful wakes up into life! So do not stop me, I tell
thee, do not stop me! Hurrah! I am rushing behind the pale
moon!" His voice changed to a hoarse murmur at these last
words. He tore away from the trembling old man, and rushed through the forest. Rolf knelt down, and prayed and wept
silently.




166                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XII.
WHERE the sea-beacn was wildest, and the cliffs most steep and
rugged, and close by the remains of three shattered oaks, which
probably marked a place where, in darker times, human victims had been sacrificed, now stood Sintram, leaning, as if exhausted, on his drawn sword, and gazing intently on the dancing waves. The moon had again shone forth, and as her pale
beams fell on his motionless figure through the quivering
branches of the trees, he might have been taken for some fearful idol image. Suddenly some one, hitherto unnoticed by him,
half-raised himself out of the withered grass, uttered a faint
groan, and again lay down. This marvellous conversation then
arose between the two:
" Thou that movest thyself so strangely amid the grass, dost
thou belong to the living or to the dead?"
" That is as you may choose to take it. I am dead to heaven
and joy-I live for hell and anguish."
" I could fancy that I had already heard thee speak."
"Oh, yes, thou surely hast."
"Art thou a troubled spirit? and was thy life-blood poured
out here in ancient times?"
" I am a troubled spirit; —but no man ever has, or ever can
shed my blood. I have been cast down —oh! into a frightful
abyss!"
"And wert thou killed by the fall?"
"I am living now,-and I shall live longer than thou."
" I could almost fancy that thou wert the crazy pilgrim with
the dead men's bones hanging about him."
"I am not he, although we often consort together, —and, indeed, in the most friendly manner. But to let you into a secret, he considers me to be mad. If I sometimes urge him,




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                167
and say to him,'Take!'-then he hesitates, and points upwards towards the stars. And, again, if I say,' Take not!'then, to a certainty, he seizes on it in some awkward manner,
and' so he spoils my best joys and pleasures. But, in spite of
all this, we remain as before, bound by a close alliance, and
even by a degree of relationship."
"Give me thy hand, and let me help thee up."
"Ho, ho! my active young sir, that might bring you no good.
Yet, in fact, you have already helped to raise me. Give heed
to what is going on around."
The movements of Sintram's unknown companion seemed to
become stranger each minute; thick clouds swept wildly over
the moon and the stars, and Sintram's thoughts grew no less
wild and stormy, while far and near an awful howling could
be heard amidst the trees and the grass. At length the mysterious being arose from the ground. As if to gratify a fearful curiosity, the moon looked out from behind a cloud, and the
sudden gleam of light showed the horror-stricken Sintram that
his companion was none other than the Little Master.
" Avaunt," cried he, "I will listen no more to your evil stories about the knight Paris. They would end by driving me
quite mad."
" My stories about Paris are not needed for that!" grinned
the Little Master. "It is enough that the Helen of your affections should be journeying towards Montfaucon.  Believe
me, madness has already taken possession of every part of you.
But what should you say were she to remain? For that, however, you must show me more courtesy than you have of late."
Therewith he raised his voice towards the sea, as if fiercely rebuking it, so that Sintram could not keep from shuddering and
trembling before the hideous dwarf. But he checked himself,
and grasping his sword-hilt with both hands, he said contemptu
ously: " You and Gabrielle! what acquaintance do you pretend to have with Gabrielle?"
" Not much," was the reply. And the Little Master might
be seen to qluake with fear and rage, as he continued: "I can



168                    SINTRAM,
not well bear to hear the name of your Helen; do not din it in
my ears ten times in a breath.  But if the tempest should increase? If the foaming waves should swell, and roll on till
they form an impenetrable barrier round the whole coast of
Norway? The voyage to Montfaupon must in that case be
altogether given up, and your Helen would remain here at least
through the long, long, dark winter!"
"If! if!" replied Sintram, with scorn. "Is the sea your
bond-slave? Are tempests obedient to you?"
" They are rebels, accursed rebels," muttered the Little Master. "You must lend me your aid, Sir Knight, if I am  to
subdue them; but you have not the heart for such a service."
"Boaster, evil boaster!" answered the youth.  "What is
that you require of me?"
"It is not much, Sir Knight, nothing at all for one who has
strength and ardour of soul. You need only look at the sea
steadily for one half-hour, without ever ceasing to wish intensely that it should foam and rage and swell, and never again
become quiet until winter has laid its icy hold upon your
mountains. Then king Menelaus will be effectually prevented
from undertaking a voyage to Montfaupon. And now give me
a lock of your black hair, which is blowing so wildly about
your head, looking like ravens' or vultures' wings."
The youth drew his sharp dagger, madly cut off a lock of his
hair, threw it to the strange being, and according to his directions began gazing on the sea, and wishing ardently that a
storm should arise. And soon the water began to be slightly
agitated with a motion almost as imperceptible as the murmuring of one disturbed by uneasy dreams, who would gladly be
at rest and yet cannot. Sintram was on the point of giving
up, when the moonbeams fell on the white sails of a ship which
was going rapidly in a southerly direction.  A pang shot
through his heart, as he was thus forcibly reminded of Gabrielle's departure; he wished again with all his power, and fixed
his eyes intently on the watery expanse. " Sintram," a voice
might have said to him, "ah! Sintram, can you be indeed the




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 169
very same who but so lately was gazing in deep emotion on the
tearful eyes of Gabrielle?"
And now the waves were seen to heave and swell, and the
howling tempest swept over the ocean; the breakers, white
with foaln, became visible in the moonlight. Then the Little
Master threw the lock of Sintram's hair up towards the clouds,
and as it was blown to and fro by the blast of wind, the storm
burst in all its fury, so that sea and sky were cox ered with one
thick cloud, and far off might be heard the cries of distress from
many a sinking vessel.
Just then the crazy pilgrim with the dead-men's bones rose up
in the midst of the waves, close to the shore; his height appeared gigantic as he rocked to and fro in a fearful manner;
the boat in which he was standing was entirely hid from sight
by the raging waves which rose all around it.
" You must save him, Little Master, you must anyhow save
him," cried Sintram, his voice rising in a tone of angry entreaty above the roaring of the winds and waves-but the dwarf
replied with a laugh: "Be quite at ease on his account, he will
be able to save himself. The waves can do him no harm. Do
you see? They are only begging of him, and therefore they
jump up so boldly round him. And he gives them bountiful
alms; very bountiful, that I can assure you."
Accordingly the pilgrim was seen to throw some bones in the
sea, and to pass on his way without suffering damage. Sintram felt his blood run cold with horror, and he rushed wildly
towards the castle. His companion had either fled or vanished
away.




170                     SINTRAM,
CHAPTER  XIII.
BIORN and Gabrielle and Folko of Montfaluton were sitting
round the great stone table, from which, since the arrival of his
noble guests, the lord of the castle had caused those suits of
armour to be removed that formerly had been his companionsthey were placed all together in a heap in one of the adjoining
apartments. At this time, while the storm was beating so furiously against doors and windows, it seemed as if the ancient
armour were also stirring in the next room, and Gabrielle several times half rose from her seat in great alarm, fixing her eyes
on the small iron door, as though she expected to see an armed
spectre issue therefrom, bending down his plumed helmet as he
passed underneath the low vaulted door-way. The knight
Biorn smiled grimly, and said, as if reading her thoughts:
"Oh! he will never again come out tfience, I have put an end
to that for ever." His guests looked at him inquiringly, as if
anxious to understand his meaning; and with a strange air of
unconcern, as though the storm had awakened all the fierceness of his soul, he began the following history:
"I was once a happy man myself; I could smile, as you doand I could rejoice in the clear morning air, as you do; that
was before the hypocritical chaplain had so worked on the
pious scruples of my lovely wife, as to induce her to shut herself up in a cloister, and leave me alone with my ungovernable
child. That was not fair usage on the part of the fair Verena.
Well, so it was, that in the first days of her dawning beauty,
before I knew her, many knights sought her hand, amongst
whom was Sir Weigand the Slender; and towards him the
gentle maiden showed herself the most favourably inclined.
Her parents were well aware that Weigand's rank and station
were little below their own, and that his fame as a warrior
without reproach promised to stand high, so that before long it




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 171
was generally known that Verena and he were betrothed to
each other. It happened one day that they were walking together in the garden of her father's castle, at the time when a
shepherd was driving his flock up the mountain beyond. The
maiden took a fancy to a little snow-white lamb which she saw
frolicking about, and wished to have it. Weigand flew out of
the garden, overtook the shepherd, and offered him two pieces
of gold for the lamb. But the shepherd would not part with it,
and scarcely listened to the knight, going quietly the while up the
mountain side. Weigand persevered, but failing in his attempts,
he lost patience, and at last uttered some threat. The shepherd, who was not wanting in the pride and stubbornness of all
our northern peasants, threatened in return. Suddenly Weigand's sword glittered above his head-the stroke should have
fallen lightly-but who can control a fiery horse, or an angry
warrior's arm? The shepherd's head seemed cleft asunder by
the blow, he rolled bathed in blood down to the very bottom of
the precipice-his terrified flock dispersed on the mountains.
The little lamb alone took refuge in the garden, and, all sprinkled with its master's blood, it laid itself down at Verena's
feet, as if asking for protection. She took it up in her arms,
and from that moment never suffered Weigand to appear again
in her presence. She continued to cherish the little lamb, and
seemed to take pleasure in nothing else in the world, while she
became each day more and more pale, like the lilies, and her
every thought was devoted to Heaven. She would soon have
taken the veil, but just then I came to aid her father in a war
m which he was engaged, and saved him from his too powerful
enemies. As a reward of my services, he prevailed on his
daughter to give me her fair hand. The overwhelming weight
of his affliction would not suffer the unhappy Weigan. to remain in his own country-he went as a pilgrim  to Asia,
whence our forefathers came, and there he performed wondrous deeds of valour, not omitting acts of humiliation and
penitence. I could not hear him spoken of in those days
without ray heart being strangely moved with compassion.
Years rolled by, and he returned, meaning to erect a church




172                    SINTRAM,
or monastery on that mountain, towards the west, whence the
walls of my castle are distinctly seen. It was said that he
wished to become a priest there, but it fell out otherwise. For
some pirates having sailed from the southern seas towards our
coasts, and having heard mention made of this monastery
which was in progress, their chief hoped to find much gold in
the possession of those who were building it, or to get a large
ransom for them, if he should succeed in surprising them, and
carrying them off: He could not have known much about the
valour of northern warriors! However, he soon arrived, and
having landed in the creek under the black rocks, he led his
men through a by-path up to the building, surrounded it, and
thought in himself that the game was now in his hands.
Ha! then out rushed Weigand and his builders, and fell upon
them with swords, and hatchets, and hammers. The heathens
fled away to their ships, closely pursued by Weigand. In
passing by our castle, he caught a sight of Verena on the
terrace, and, for the first time during so many years, she bestowed a courteous and kind salutation on the victorious warrior. At that moment a dagger, hurled by one of the pirates
in the midst of his hasty flight, struck Weigand's uncovered
head, and he fell to the ground bleeding and insensible. We
completed the rout of the heathens: then I directed the wounded
knight to be brought into the castle; and my Verena's pale
cheeks glowed as lilies do in the light of the morning sun, and
Weigand opened his eyes with a smile when he was brought
near her. He refused to be taken into any room but the small
one close to this, where the armour is now placed; for he said
that he felt as if it were a cell like that which he hoped soon
to inhabit in the quiet cloister he was erecting. All was done
conformably to his desire; my sweet Verena nursed him, and
he appeared at first to be advancing favourably towards recovery, but his head continued weak, and liable to be confused
by the slightest emotion —his steps were faltering, and his cheeks
colourless. We would not suffer him to depart. When wve
were sitting here together in the evening, he used always to
come tottering into the hall through the low doorway; and my




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 17o
heart was sad, and wrathful too, when the soft eyes of Verena
beamed so sweetly on him, and a glow like that of the evening
sky lighted up her pale countenance. But I bore it, and I
could have borne it to the end of our lives,-when, alas! Verena
shut herself up in a cloister!"
His head fell so heavily on his folded hands, that the stone
table groaned under it, and he remained a long while motionless as a corpse. When he again raised himself up, his eyes
glared as he looked round the hall, and he said to Folko:
" Your beloved Hamburghers, Gotthard Lentz, and Rudlieb his
son, they have much to answer for! Who bid them come and
be shipwrecked so close to my castle 2"
Folko cast a piercing look on him, and a fearful inquiry was
on the point of escaping his lips, but another look at the trembling Gabrielle caused him to refrain, at least for the present
moment, and the knight Biorn continued his narrative:
" Verena was with her nuns, I was left alone, and my despair had driven me to the mountains and the forest during the
whole day. Towards evening I returned to my deserted castle, and scarcely was I in the hall, when the little door creaked
on its hinges, and Weigand, who had slept through all, crept
towards me and asked:'Where can Verena be?' Then I
became like one out of his senses, and I shouted,' She is gone
mad, and so am I, and you also, and now we are all mad!'
Mercifill Heaven, the wound on his head burst open, and a
dark red stream flowed over his face-alas! how different from
the redness which overspread it when Verena met him at the
castle gate,-and he rushed forth, raving mad, into the wilderness without, and ever since has wandered all around, as a
crazy pilgrim."
He was silent, and so were Folko and Gabrielle,-all three
pale and cold, like images of the dead. At length the fearful
narrator added in a low voice, and as if he were quite exhausted: "He has visited me since that time, but he will never again
come through the low door-way. Have I not established peace
and order in my castle?"




174                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XIV.
SINTRAM had not returned home, when the inhabitants of the
castle betook themselves to rest in great disturbance of mind
No one thought of him, for every heart was filled with strange
forebodings of evil, and with undefined anxiety. Even the
firm heroic spirit of the knight of Montfauson did not escape
the general agitation.
Old Rolf still remained without, weeping in the forest, heedless of the storm which beat on his unprotected head, while he
waited for his young master. But he had gone a very different
way; and when the morning dawned, he entered the castle
from the opposite side.
Gabrielle's slumbers had been but too sweet during the whole
night. It had seemed to her that angels with golden wings had
blown away the wild histories she had listened to the evening
before, and had wafted to her the bright flowers, the sparkling
sea, and the green hills of her own home. She smiled, and
drew her breath calmly and softly, whilst the supernatural tempest raged and howled through the forests, and kept up a fearful conflict with the troubled sea. But, in truth, when she awoke
in the morning, and heard the crashing of the storm still continuing, and saw the clouds still hiding the face of the heavens,
she could have wept for anxiety and sadness, especially when
she heard from her maidens that Folko had already left their
apartment clad in full armour as if prepared for a combat. At
the same time she could distinguish the sound of the heavy
tread of armed men in the echoing halls, and, on inquiring,
found that the knight of Montfaumon had assembled all his retainers to be in readiness to protect their lady.
Wrapped in a cloak of ermine, she stood trembling like a
tender flower which has just sprung up out of the show, and is




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                175
exposed to the rude blasts of a winter's storm. At that moment Sir Folko entered the room, arrayed in his brilliant armour, and in peaceful guise carrying his golden hellnet, with
the long shadowy plumes in his hand. He saluted Gabrielle
with an air of cheerful serenity, and, at a sign from him, his
attendants retired-the men-at-arms without were heard quietly
dispersing
" Lady," said he, as he took his seat beside her on a couch
to which he led her, already re-assured by his presence;
"Lady, will you forgive your knight for having left you to endure some moments of anxiety, whilst he was obeying the call
of honour and the stern voice of duty. Now all is set in order,
quietly and peacefully; dismiss your fears and every thought
that has troubled you, as things that have no longer any existence."
" But you and Biorn?" asked Gabrielle.
"On the word of a knight," replied he, "'all is as it should
be." And thereupon he began to talk over indifferent subjects
with his usual ease and vivacity; but Gabrielle, bending towards him, said, with deep emotion:
"Oh Folko, my knight, the guiding star of my life, my pro
tector, and my dearest hope on earth, tell me all, if you may.
If you are bound by a promise to keep any thing secret, I ask
no more. You know that I am of the race of Portamour, and
I would ask nothing from my knight which could cast even a
breath of suspicion on his spotless shield."
Folko thought gravely for one instant, then looking at her
with a bright smile, he said: " It is not that, Gabrielle, but can
you bear what 1 have to disclose? Will you not sink down at
the tidings, as a slender fir gives way under a mass of snow?"
She raised herself with a somewhat proud air, and said: " I
have already reminded you of the name of my father's house.
Let me now add that I am the wedded wife of the Baron of
Montfauson."
"Then so let it be," replied Folko solemnly; "and if that
must come forth openly which should ever have remained hid



176                   SINTRAM,
den ill the darkness which belongs to such deeds of wickedness,
at least the horror of longer expectation shall not be added to
it. Know then, Gabrielle, that the wicked knight who attempted
the destruction of my friends Gotthard and Rudlieb, is none
other than our kinsman and host, Biorn of the Fiery Eyes."
Gabrielle shuddered and covered her eyes with her fair
hands; but at the end of a moment she looked up with a bewildered air, and said: 6" I have heard wrong surely, although
it is true that yesterday evening such a thought flashed across
n.y mind. For did not you say awhile ago that all was settled
and at peace between you and Biorn? Between the brave
baron and such a man after such a crime?"
" You heard aright," answered Folko, looking with fond delight on the delicate, yet noble spirited being beside him.
U This morning with the earliest dawn I went to him and challenged him to a mortal combat in the neighbouring valley, if he
were the man to whose cruelty Gotthard and Rudlieb had so
well nigh fallen victims. He was already completely armed,
and merely saying,'I am he,' he led the way towards the
forest. But when we stood alone at the place of combat, he
flung away his shield down a giddy precipice, then his sword
was hurled after it, and next with gigantic strength he tore off
his coat of mail, and said:'Now fall on, thou minister of vengeance, for I am a man laden with guilt, and I dare not fight
with thee.' How could I then attack him? A strange kind
of truce was agreed on between us,-he is to be my vassal to
a certain extent, and yet I solemnly forgave him in my own
name and in that of my friends. He was contrite, and yet no
tear was in his eye, no word of penitence on his lips. He is only
kept under by the power with which I am endued by having
right on my side, and it is on that tenure that Biorn is my vassal. I know not, lady, whether you can bear to see us together
on these terms; if not, I will ask for hospitality in some other
castle-there are none in Norway which would not receive us
joyfully and honourably, and this wild autumnal storm may
put off our voyage for many a day. Only I feel persuaded of




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                177
this, that if we depart directly and in such a manner, the heart
of this savage man will break."
" Where my noble lord remains, there am I content to remain also under his protection," replied Gabrielle, and again
her heart glowed with rapture at the greatness of her knight.




178                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XV.
THE noble lady had just unbuckled her knight's armour with
her own fair hands, —for it was only on the field of battle that
pages or esquires were permitted to perform that office for
Montfauon, —and now she was throwing over his shoulders his
mantle of blue velvet embroidered with gold, when the door
opened gently, and Sintram, entering the room, saluted them
with an air of deep humility. Gabrielle received him kindly
as she was wont, but, suddenly, turning pale, she looked away
and said: "Oh! Sintram, what has happened to you?  And
how can one single night have so fearfully altered you?"
Sintram stood still, thunderstruck, and feeling as if he himself did not know what had befallen him. Then Folko took
him by the hand, led him towards a bright polished shield, and
said very earnestly: " Look here at yourself, young knight!"
No sooner had Sintram cast a glance at the mirror than he
drew back with horror. He fancied that he saw the Little
Master before him with that single upright feather sticking out
of his cap; but he at length perceived that the mirror was only
showing him his own image and none other, and that it was
owing to the lock of hair cut off by his own dagger that his
whole appearance had become so strange, nay, even unearthly,
as he was obliged to confess himself.
"Who has done that to you," asked Folko in a tone yet
more grave and solemn.  "And why does your disordered
hair stand on end I"
Sintram knew not what to answer. He felt as if he were
standing to be judged, and as if his sentence could be none
other than a shameful degradation from his knightly rank.
Suddenly Folko drew him away from the shield, and taking
him towards the window against which the storm was beating
he asked: " Whence comes this tempest?"




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                  179
Still Sintram kept silence. His limbs began to tremble under him, and Gabrielle, pale and terrified, whispered: "1Oh
Folko, my knight, what has happened? Oh tell me; are we
come into an evil enchanted castle?"
"The land of- our Northern ancestors," replied Folko with
solemnity, " is full of mysterious knowledge. But we may not,
for all that, call its people enchanters; still this youth has good
cause to watch himself narrowly; he whom the Evil One has
touched by so much as one hair of his head....."
Sintram heard no more; with a deep groan he staggered out
of the room. As he left it, he met old Rolf, still almost benumbed by his exposure to the cold and storms of the night.
Now in his joy at again seeing his young master, he did not
remark his altered appearance; but as he accompanied him to
his sleeping room, he said: " Witches and spirits of the tempest
must have taken up their abode on the sea-shore. I am certain
Lhat such wild storms never arise without some magical arts."
Sintram fell into a fainting-fit, from which Rolf could with
difficulty recover him sufficiently to appear in the great hall at
the mid-day repast. But before he went down, he caused a
mirror to be brought, and having again surveyed himself therein with grief and horror, he cut close round all the rest of his
long black hair, so that he made himself look almost like a
monk, and thus he joined the party already assembled round
the table. They all looked at him with surprise, but old Biorn
rose up and said fiercely: " Are you going to betake yourself to
a cloister as well as the fair lady, your mother?"
A commanding look from the Baron of Montfaumon checked
any farther outbreak, and, as if in apology, Biorn added with a
forced smile: " 1 was only thinking if any accident had befallen him, like Absalom's, and if he had been obliged to save himself from being strangled by parting with all his hair."
"You should not jest on sacred subjects," answered the Baron
severely, and all were silent. No sooner was the repast ended
than Folko and Gabrielle, with grave and courteous salutation,
retired to their own apartments.




180                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XVI.
AFTER this time a great change took place in the mode of living
of the inhabitants of the castle. Those two bright beings, Folko
and Gabrielle, spent most part of the day in their apartments,
and when they appeared below, their intercourse with Biorn and
Sintram was marked by a grave dignified reserve on their part
and by humility mixed with fear on that of their hosts, Nevertheless, Biorn could not endure the thought of his guests seeking shelter in any other knight's abode. Once that Folko said a
word on the subject, something like a tear stood in the wild man's
eye-his head sank, and he said in a scarcely audible voice:'" It must be as you please: but I feel that if you go, I shall fly
to the caves and rocks in despair."
And thus they all remained together; for the storm continued
to rage with such increasing fury over the sea, that no thought
of embarking could be entertained, and the oldest man in Norway could not call to mind having witnessed such an autumn.
The priests examined all the Runic books, the bards looked
through their store of lays and tales, and yet they could find
no record of the like. Biorn and Sintram braved the tempest;
but during the few hours in which Folko and Gabrielle showed themselves, the father and son were always in the castle, in
respectful attendance upon them; the rest of the day-nay,
even frequently, the whole night long, they rushed through the
forests and over the rocks in pursuit of bears. Folko, the
while, summoned to his aid all the brightness of his fancy, all
the courtly grace he was endowed with, in order to make Gabrielle forget that she was living in this wild castle and that the
long hard northern winter was setting in, which would keep her
there an ice-bound prisoner for many a month. Sometimes he
would relate tales of deep interest; then he would play the




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                181
liveliest airs to induce Gabrielle to tread a measure with her
attendants; then, again, handing his lute to one of the women,
he would himself take a part in the dance, never failing to express by his gestures his homage and devotion to his lady.
Another time he would have the spacious halls of the castle
prepared for his armed retainers to go through their warlike
exercises and trials of strength, and Gabrielle always adjudged
the reward to the conqueror. Folko often joined the circle of
combatants; but always took care to deprive no one of the prize,
by confining his efforts merely to parrying the blows aimed at
him. The Norwegians, who stood around as spectators, used to
compare him to the demi-god Baldur, one of the heroes of their
old traditions, who was wont to let the darts of his companions
be all hurled against him, conscious that he was invulnerable,
and trusting in his own inherent strength.
At the close of one of these martial exercises, old Rolf advanced towards Folko, and beckoning him with an humble look,
he said softly: "They call you Baldur the brave, the goodand they are right. But even the good and brave Baldur did
not escape death. Take heed to yourself." Folko looked at
him with surprise.  " Not that I know of any treacherous
design against you," continued the old man; "or that I can
even foresee the likelihood of any being formed. God forbid
that a Norwegian should feel such a fear. But when you
stand before me in all the brightness of your glory, the fleetingness of everything earthly is brought strongly to my mind, and
I cannot refrain from saying,'Take heed, noble baron! oh,
take heed! There is nothing, however great, which does not
come to an end."'
" Those are wise and pious thoughts," replied Folko, calmly,
"and I will treasure them in my inmost heart."
The good Rolf spen:frequently some time with Folko and
(Gabrielle, and seemed to form a connecting link between the
two widely-differing parties in the castle. For how could he
have ever forsaken his own Sintram! It was only in their wild
bunting expeditions, when they had no regard to the storms and




182                     SINTRAM,
tempests which were raging, that he no longer was able to follow his young lord.
At length the icy reign of winter began in all its glory.
The season was sufficient of itself to prevent a return to Normandy being thought of, and therefore the storm which had
been raised by magical art, was lulled. The hills and valleys
shone brilliantly in their white attire of snow, and Folko used
sometimes, with skates on his feet, to draw his lady in a light
sledge over the glittering frozen lakes and streams. On the
other hand, the bear-hunts of the lord of the castle and his son
assumed a still more desperate and to them enjoyable aspect.
About this time,-when Christmas was drawing near, and
Sintram was seeking to overpower his apprehensions of the
fearful dreams which were wont to trouble him then, by the
most daring expeditions, —about this time, Folko and Gabrielle
chanced to be standing together on one of the terraces of the
castle. The evening was mild; the snow-clad fields were glowing in the red light of the setting sun; from below there were
heard men's voices singing songs of ancient heroic times, while
they worked in the armourer's forge. At last the songs died
away, the beating of hammers ceased, and without the speakers
being visible, or there being any possibility of distinguishing
them by their voices, the following discourse was distinctly
heard:" Who is the bravest amongst all those whose race derives its
origin from our renowned land?"
" It is Folko of Montfaupon."
"Rightly said; but, tell me, is there any danger from which
even this bold baron draws l-ack?"
"In truth there is one thing,-and we who have never left
Norway-, face it quite willingly and joyfully."
"And that is?"
"A bear-hunt in winter, over trackless plains of snow, down
frightful ice-covered precipices."
" Truly thou answerest aright, my comrade. He who knows
not how to fasten our skates on his feet, how to turn in them to




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 183
the right or left at a moment's warning, he may be a valiant
knight in other respects, but he had better keep away from our
hunting parties, and remain with his timid wife in her apartments." At which the speakers were heard to laugh as if
weli pleased, and then to betake themselves again to their armourers' work.
Folko stood long buried in thought. A glow beyond that of
the evening sky reddened his cheek. Gabrielle also remained
silent, revolving in her mind that for which she was unable to
find words. At last she took courage, and embracing her beloved, she said: "To-morrow you will go forth to hunt the
bear, will you not? and you will bring the spoils of the chase
to your lady?"
The knight gave a joyful sign of assent; and the rest of the
evening was spent in dances and music.




184                   SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XVIL
"SEE, my noble lord," said Sintram the next morning, when
Folko had expressed his wish of going out with him, " these
skates of ours give such wings to our course that we go down
the mountain-side more swiftly than the wind, and even in going up again we are too quick for any one to be able to pursue
us, and on the plains no horse can keep up with us, and yet they
can only be worn with safety by those who are well practised.
iL seems as though some strange spirit dwelt in them, which is
fearfully dangerous to any that have not learnt the management of them in their childhood."
Folko answered somewhat proudly: " Do you suppose that
this is the first time that I have been amongst your mountains?
Years ago I have joined in this sport, and, thank Heaven! there
is no knightly exercise which does not speedily become familiar
to me."
Sintram did not venture to make any further objections, and
still less did old Biorn. They both felt relieved when they saw
with what skill and ease Folko buckled the skates on his feet,
without suffering any one to assist him. This day they hunted
up the mountain, in pursuit of a fierce bear which had often
before escaped from them. Before long it was necessary that
they should separate into different parties, and Sintram offered
himself as companion to Folko, who, touched by the humble
manner of the vouth, and his devotion to him, forgot all that
had disturbed him latterly in the pale, altered being before him,
and agreed heartily to his proposal. As now they continued to
climb higher and higher up the mountain, and saw from many
a giddy height the rocks and crags below them looking like a
vast expanse of sea suddenly turned into ice whilst tossed by a
violent tempest the noble Montfauson drew his breath more




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 185
freely. He poured forth war-songs and love-songs in the clear
mountain air, and the startled echoes repeated from rock to
rock the lays of his southern home. He sprang lightly from
one precipice to another, making use skilfully of the staff with
which he was furnished for support, and turning now to the
right, now to the left, as the fancy seized him, so that Sintram
was fain to exchange his former anxiety for a wondering admiration, and the hunters, whose eyes had never been taken off
the baron, burst forth with loud applause, proclaiming far and
wide this fresh proof of his prowess.
The good fortune which usually accompanied Folko's deeds
of arms, seemed still unwilling to leave him. After a short
search, he and Sintram found distinct traces of the savage animal they were pursuing, and with beating hearts they followed
the track so swiftly, that even a winged enemy would have been
unable to escape from them. But the creature whom they
sought did not attempt a flight-he lay sulkily ensconced in a
cavern near the top of a steep precipitous rock, infuriated by
the shouts of the hunters, and only waiting in his lazy fury
for some one to be bold enough to climb up to his retreat, that
he might tear him to pieces. Folko and Sintram had now
reached the foot of this rock, the rest of the hunters being
dispersed over the far-extending plain. The track led the
two companions up the rock, and they set about climbing on
the opposite sides of it, that they might be the more sure of not
missing their prey. Folko reached the lonely topmost point
first, and cast his eyes around. A wide, boundless tract of
country, covered with untrodden snow, was spread before
him, melting in the distance into the lowering clouds*of the
gloomy evening sky. He almost thought that he must have
missed the traces of the fearful animal; when close beside
him from a cleft in the rock, issued a long growl, and a huge
black bear appeared on the snow, standing on its hind legs, and
with glaring eyes it advanced towards the baron. Sintram the
while was struggling in vain to make his way up the rock




186                     SINTRAM,
against the masses of snow which were continually slipping
down upon him.
Rejoicing in an adventure such as he had not encountered
for years, and which now appeared new to him, Folko of Montfaunon levelled his hunting spear, and awaited the attack of the
wild beast. He suffered it to approach so near that its fearful
claws were almost upon him; then he made a thrust, and the
spear was buried deep in the bear's breast.  But the furious
beast still pressed on with a fierce growl, kept up on its hind
legs by the cross iron of the spear, and the knight was forced
to use all his strength not to lose his footing and to resist the
savage assault; and the whole time there was the grim face of
the bear all covered with blood, close before him, and sounding
in his ear was its deep savage growl, which told of its thirst for
blood, even in the midst of its death-struggles. At length the
bear's resistance grew weaker, and the dark blood streamed
upon the snow; one powerful thrust hurled him backwards
over the edge of the precipice. At the same instant, Sintram
stood by the baron of Montfaucon. Folko said, drawing a deep
breath: " But I have not yet the prize in my hands, and have
it I must, since fortune has given me a claim to it. Look, one
of my skates seems to be out of order. Do you think, Sintram,
that it is in such a state as not to hinder me in sliding down
to the foot of the precipice?"
"Let me go instead," said Sintram.  "I will bring you the
head and the claws of the bear."
" A true knight," replied Folko with some displeasure, "never
leaves his work to be finished by another. What I ask is,
whether my skate is still fit for use?"
As Sintram bent down to look, and was on the point of saying "No!" he suddenly heard a voice close to him, saying
" Why, yes! to be sure; there is no doubt about it."
Folko thought that Sintram had spoken, and darted off with
the swiftness of an arrow, whilst his companion looked up in
great surprise. The abhorred features of the Little Master
met his eyes. As he was going to address him with angry




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                Is87
words, he heard the sound of the baron's fearful fall down the
precipice, and he stood still in silent horror. There was a
breathless silence also in the abyss below.
"Now, why de you delay?" said the Little Master, after a
pause. "He is dashed to pieces. Go back to the castle, and
take the fair Helen to yourself."
Sintram shuddered. Then his detestable companion began
to extol Gabrielle's charms in such glowing, deceiving words,
that the heart of the youth swelled with a torrent of emotions
he had never befobre known. He only thought of him who was
now lying at the foot of the rock as of an obstacle removed from
his way to Paradise; he turned towards the castle.
But a cry was heard below: " Help! help! my comrade! I
am yet alive, but I am sorely wounded."
Sintram's will was changed, and he called to the baron: " I
am coming."
But the Little Master said: " Nothing can be done to help
king Menelaus; and the fair Helen knows it already. She
is only waiting for knight Paris to comfort her." And with
detestable craft he wove in that tale with what was actually
happening, bringing in the most highly wrought praises of the
lovely Gabrielle; and alas! the blinded youth harkened to himn,
and fled away! Again he heard far off the baron's voice calling to him: " Knight Sintram, knight Sintram, you on whom I
bestowed that noble order, haste to me and help me! The
she-bear and her whelps will be upon me, and I cannot use my
right arm I knight Sintram, knight Sintram, haste to help
me!"
His cries were overpowered by the furious speed with which
the two were carried along on their skates, and by the evil
words of the Little Master, who was mocking at the late proud
bearing of king Menelaus towards the miserable Sintram. At
last he shouted: " Good luck to you, she-bear! good luck to
your whelps!  There is a glorious meal for you! Now you
will destroy the fear of Heathendom, him at whose name the
Moorish women weep, the mighty Baron of Montfaugon. Never




188                    SINTRAM,
again, oh! dainty knight, will you shout at the head of your
troops,' Mountjoy St. Denys!"'  But scarce had this holy
name passed the lips of the Little Master, than he set up a
howl of anguish, writhing himself with horrible contortions, and
wringing his hands, and he ended by disappearing in a storm
of snow which then arose.
Sintram planted his staff firmly in the ground, and stopped.
IHovw strangely did the wide expanse of snow, the distant mountains rising above it, and the dark green fir woods, —how
strangely did they all look at him in cold reproachful silence!  He felt as if he must sink under the weight of his
sorrow and his guilt. The bell of a distant hermitage came
floating sadly over the plain. With a burst of tears he exzlaimed, as the darkness grew thicker around him: "My mother! my mother! I had once a beloved tender mother, and
she said I was a good child!" A ray of comfort came to him
as if brought on an angel's wing; perhaps Montfaucon- was not
yet dead! and he flew like lightning along the path which led
back to the steep rock. When he got to the fearful place, he
stooped and looked anxiously down the precipice. The moon
which had just risen in full majesty helped him with her light.
The knight of Montfaupon, pale and covered with blood, was
supporting himself on one knee, and leaning against the rockhis right arm, which had been crushed in his fall, hung powerless at his side; it was plain that he had not been able to draw
his good sword out of the scabbard. But, nevertheless, he was
keeping the bear and her young ones at bay by his bold threatening looks, so that they only crept round him, growling angrily; every moment ready for a fierce attack, but as often driven
back affrighted at the majestic air by which he conquered even
when defenceless.
"Oh! what a knight would here have perished!" groaned
Sintram, "and through whose guilt?" At that instant his spear
flew with so true an aim that the bear fell weltering in her
blood; the young ones ran away howling.
The baron looked up with surprise. His countenance beam




AND HIS COMPANIONS.               189
ed as the light of the moon fell upon it, with a grave and stern,
yet mild expression, like some angelic vision. He made a sign
to Sintram to come to him, and the youth slid down the side of
the precipice, full of anxious haste. He was going to attend to
the wounded knight, but Folko said: " First cut off the head
and claws of the bear which I slew. I promised to bring the
spoils of the chase to my lovely Gabrielle. Then come to me,
and bind up my wounds. My right arm is broken." Sintram
obeyed the baron's commands. When the tokens of victory had
been secured, and the broken arm bound up, Folko desired the
vouth to help him back to the castle.
"Oh Heavens!" said Sintram in a low voice, "if I dared
to look in your face! or only knew how to come near you!"
" You were indeed going on in an evil course," said Montfaucon, gravely; " but how could we, any of us, stand before
God, did we not bring repentance with us! Anyhow you have
saved my life, and let that cheer your heart."
The youth with tenderness and strength supported the
baron's left arm, and they both went their way silently into
the moonlight.




190                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XVIII.
SOUNDS of wailing were heard from the castle as they approached; the chapel was solemnly lighted up: within it
knelt Gabrielle, lamenting for the death of the knight of
Montftaucon.
But how quickly was the scene changed, when the noble
baron, pale, indeed, and wounded, yet having escaped the
dangers that beset his life, stood smiling at the entrance of the
holy building, and said in a low, gentle voice: "Look up
Gabrielle, and be not affrighted: for by the honor of my race
your knight still lives."  Oh! with what joy did Gabrielle's
eyes sparkle, as she turned to her knight and then raised them
again to heaven; the tears which still streamed from them
having now their source in the deep joy of thankfulness! With
the help of two pages, Folko knelt down beside her, and they
both offered up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for their present
happiness.
When they all left the chapel, the wounded knight being
tenderly supported by his lady, Sintram was standing without
in the darkness, himself as gloomy as the night, and like a bird
of the night shunning the sight of man. Yet he came trembling
forward into the torch-light, laid the bear's head and claws at
the feet of Gabrielle, and said: " The noble Folko of Montfauvon presents the spoils of to-day's chase to his lady."
The Nor-wegians burst forth with shouts of joyful surprise
at the stranger knight, who in the very first hunting expedition
had slain the most fearful and dangerous beast of their mountains.
Then Folko looked around with a smile as he said: c" And
now none of you must jeer at me. if I stay at home for a short
time with my timid wife,"




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 191
Those who the day before had talked together in the armourer's forge, came out from the crowd, and bowing low, they replied: "Noble baron, who could have thought that there was
no knightly exercise in the whole world, in which you would
not show yourself far above all other men?"
"The pupil of old Sir Hugh may be somewhat trusted," answered Folko kindly. " But now, you bold northern warriors,
bestow some praises also on my deliverer, who saved me from
the claws of the she-bear, when I was lying under the rock
wounded by my fall."
He pointed to Sintram, and the general shout was again
raised, and old Rolf, his eyes dim with tears of joy, bent his
head over his foster-son's hand. But Sintram drew back shuddering.
" Did you but know," he said, " whom you see before you,
all your spears would be aimed at my heart; and perhaps that
would be the best thing that could befal me. But I spare the
honour of my father and of his race, and for this time I will
not make a confession. Only this much must you hear, noble
warriors."
"Young man," interrupted Folko, with a reproving look,'already again so wild and fierce? I desire that you will hold
your peace about your dreaming fiancies."
Sintram was silenced for a moment, but hardly had Folko
begun to move towards the steps of the castle, than he cried
out: "Oh no, no, noble wounded knight, stay yet awhile; I
will serve you in everything that your heart can desire; but
this once I cannot obey you. Brave warriors, you must and
shall know so much as this: I am no longer worthy to live under the same roof with the noble baron of Montfauwon and his
angelic lady Gabrielle. And you, my aged father, farewell:
take no further heed of me. I intend to live in the stone fortress on the rocks of the Moon, until a change of some kind
comes over me."
There was that in his way of speaking against which no one
dared to urge any opposition, not even Folko himself.




192                  SINTRAM.
The wild Biorn bowed his head humbly, and said: " Do
according to your pleasure, my poor son; for I much fear
that you are right."
Then Sintram walked solemnly and silently through the
castle gate, followed by the good Rolf. Gabrielle led her
exhausted lord up to their apartments.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                193
CHAPTER XIX.
THAT was a mournful journey on which the youth and his aged
foster-father went towards the Rocks of the Moon, through the
wild tangled paths of the snow-covered vallies. Rolf from time
to time sang some verses of hymns, in which comfort and peace
were promised to the penitent sinner, and Sintram thanked him
for them with looks of grateful sadness. Otherwise neither of
them spoke a word.
At length, when the dawn of day was approaching, Sintram
broke silence by saying: " Who are those two, sitting yonder
by the frozen stream? A tall man, and a little one. Their
own wild hearts must have driven them also forth into the wilderness. Rolf, do you know them?  The sight of them makes
me shudder."
"Sir," answered the old man, "your disturbed mind deceives
you. Where you are looking, there stands a lofty fir-tree, and
the old weather-beaten stump of an oak, half-covered with snow,
which gives them a somewhat strange appearance. There are
no men sitting yonder."
"But, Rolf, look there! Look again carefullyl Now they
move, they whisper together."
" Sir, the morning breeze moves the branches, and whistles
in the sharp pine-leaves, and in the yellow oak-leaves, and rustles the crisp snow."
" Rolf, now they are both coming towards us. Now they
are standing before us; they are quite tcose."
"Sir, it is we who get nearer to them as we walk on, and
the setting moon throws such long gaint-like shadows over the
plain."
"Good evening!" said a hollow voice, and Sintram knew it
14




194                    SINTRAM,
was the crazy pilgrim, near to whom stood the malignant dwarf,
looking more hideous than ever.
"You are right, Sir knight," whispered Rolf, as he drew back
behind Sintram, and made the sign of the Cross on his breast
and forehead.
The bewildered youth, however, advanced towards the two
figures, and said: " You have always taken wonderful pleasure
in being my companions. What do you expect will come of it?
And do you choose to go now with me to the stone fortress?
There I will tend you, poor pale pilgrim; and as to you, frightful Master, most evil dwarf, I will make you shorter by the
head, to reward you for your deeds yesterday."
" That would be a fine thing," sneered the Little Master;
" and perhaps you imagine that you would be doing a great
service to the whole world?  And indeed, who knows? Something might be gained by it! Only, poor wretch, you cannot
do it."
The pilgrim meantime was waving his pale head to and fro
thoughtfully, saying: " I believe truly, that you would willingly have me, and I would go to you willingly, but I may not
yet. Have patience awhile; you will yet surely see me come,
but at a distant time, and, first, we must again visit your father
together, and then also you will learn to call me by my right
name, my poor friend."
" Beware of disappointing me again!" said Little Master to
the pilgrim in a threatening voice; but he, pointing with his
long, shrivelled hand towards the sun, which was just now
rising, said - "Stop either that sun or me, if you can!"
Then the first rays fell on the snow, and Little Master ran
down a precipice, scolding as he went, but the pilgrim walked
on in the bright beams, calmly and with great solemnity, towards a neighboring castle on the mountain. It was not long
before its chapel bell was heard tolling for the dead.
" For Heaven's sake," whispered the good Rolf to his knight,'for Heaven's sake, Sir Sintram, what kind of companions
have you here? One of them cannot bear the light of God's




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 195
blessed sun, and the other has no sooner set a foot in a dwelling,
than the passing-bell is heard from thence. Could he have been
a murderer?"
", I do not think that," said Sintram. "He seemed to me the
best of the two. But it is a strange wilfulness of his not to
come with me. Did I not invite him kindly? I believe that
he can sing well, and he should have sung to me some gentle
lullaby. Since my mother has lived in a cloister, no one sings
lullabies to me any more."
At this tender recollection his eyes were bedewed with tears.
But he did not himself know what he had said besides, for there
was wildness and confusion in his spirit. They arrived at the
Rocks of the Moon, they mounted up to the stone fortress.  The
castellan, an old, gloomy man, who was all the more devoted
to the young knight from his dark melancholy and wild deeds,
hastened to lower the drawbridge. Greetings were exchanged
in silence, and in silence did Sintram enter, and those joyless
gates closed with a crash behind the future recluse.




196                   SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XX.
YES, truly, a recluse, or at least something like it, did poor
Sintram now become! For towards the time of the approaching Christmas Festival his fearful dreams came over him, and
seized him so fiercely, that all the esquires and servants fled
with shrieks out of the castle, and would never venture back
again. No one remained with him except Rolf and the old castellan. After a while, indeed, Sintram became calm, but he
went about looking so pallid and subdued, that he might have
been taken for a wandering corpse.  No comforting of the
good Rolf, no devout soothing lays, were of any avail; and
the castellan, with his fierce, scarred features, his head almost
entirely bald from a huge sword-cut, his stubborn silence,
seemed like a yet darker shadow of the miserable knight. Rolf
often thought of going to summon the holy chaplain of Drontheim, but how could he have left his lord alone with the
gloomy castellan, a man who at all times raised in him a secret
horror. Biorn had long had this wild strange warrior in his
service, and honoured him on account of his unshaken fidelity
and his fearless courage, without the knight or any one else
knowing whence the castellan came, or indeed exactly who he
was. Very few people knew by what name to call him, but
that was the more needless since he never entered into discourse
with any one. He was the castellan of the stone fortress on the
Rocks of the Moon, and nothing more.
Rolf committed his deep heartfelt cares to the merciful God,
trusting that He would soon come to his aid, and the merciful
God did not fail him. For on Christmas eve the bell at the
drawbridge sounded, and Rolf, looking over the battlements, saw
the chaplain of Drontheim standing there, with a companion
indeed that surprised him, —for close beside him appeared the




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 197
crazy pilgrim, and the dead men's bones on his dark mantle
shone very strangely in the glimmering star-light; but the sight
of the chaplain filled the good Rolf too full of joy to leave
room fir any doubt in his mind-for, thought he, whoever
comes with him, cannot but be welcome! And so he let them
both in with respectful haste, and ushered them up to the hall
where Sintram, pale and with a fixed look, was sitting under
the light of one flickering lamp. Rolf was obliged to support
and assist the crazy pilgrim up the stairs, for he was quite benumbed with cold.
"I bring you a greeting from your mother," said the chaplain, as he came in, and immediately a sweet smile passed over
the young knight's countenance, and its deadly pallidness gave
place to a bright, soft glow.
" Oh Heaven!" murmured he, " does then my mother yet
live, and does she care to know anything about me?"
" She is endowed with wonderful presentiment of the future,"
replied the chaplain, "and all that you ought either to do or
to leave undone is pictured in various ways in her mind, during a half-waking trance, but with most faithful exactness.
Now she knows of your deep sorrow, and she sends me, the
Father Confessor of her convent, to comfort you, but at the
same time to warn you, for, as she affirms, and as I ani also
inclined to think, many strange and heavy trials lie before
you."'
Sintram bowed himself towards the chaplain with his arms
crossed over his breast, and said with a gentle smile: "Much
have I been favoured, more, a thousand times more, than I
could have dared to hope in my best hours, by this greeting
from my mother, and your visit, reverend sir; and all after falling more fearfully low than I had ever fallen before. The mercy
of the Lord is great, and how heavy soever may be the weight
and punishment which he may send, I trust with his grace to
be able to bear it."
Just then the door opened, and the castellan came in with a
torch in his hand, the red glare of which made his face look




198                     SINTRAM,
the colour of blood. He cast a terrified glance at the crazy
pilgrim, who had just sunk back in a swoon, and was supported
on his seat and tended by Rolf; then he stared with astonishment at the chaplain, and at last murmured: " A strange meeting! I believe that the hour for confession and reconciliation is
now arrived."
"I believe so, too," replied the priest, who had heard his low
whisper; "this seems to be truly a day rich in grace and peace.
That poor man yonder, whom I found half frozen by the way,
would make a full confession to me at once, before he followed
me to a place of shelter. Do as he has done, my dark-browed
warrior, and delay not your good purpose for one instant."
Thereupon he left the room with the castellan, who gave a
sign of compliance, but he turned back to say: " Sir knight,
and your esquire! take good care the while of my sick
charge."
Sintram and Rolf did according to the chaplain's desire, and
when at length their -ordials made the pilgrim open his eyes
once again, the young knight said to him with a friendly smile:
"Do you see? you are come to visit me after all. Why did.
you refuse me when a few nights ago I asked you so earnestly
to come? Perhaps I may have spoken wildly and hastily. Did
that scare you away?"
A sudden expression of fear came over the pilgrim's countenance, but soon he again looked up at Sintram with an air of
gentle humility, saying: "Oh my dear lord, I am most entirely
devoted to you-only never speak to me of former passages between you and me. I am terrified whenever you do it. For,
my lord, either I am mad and have forgotten all that is past, or
that being has met you in the wood, whom I look upon as may
all-powerful twin-brother."
Sintram laid his hand gently on the pilgrim's mouth, as he
answered: " Say nothing more about that matter. I most willingly promise to be silent."
Neither he nor old Rolf could understand what appeared to
them so awful in the whole matter; but both shuddered.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                    199
After a short pause, the pilgrim  said: " I would rather sing
you a song, a soft, comforting song. Have you not a lute
here?"
Rolf fetched one, and the pilgrim, half-raising himself on the
couch, sang the following words:When death is coming near,
When thy heart shrinks in fear,
And thy limbs fail,
Then raise thy hands and pray
To Him who smooths thy way
Through the dark vale.
Seest thou the eastern dawn,
Hear'st thou in the red morn
The angel's song?
O lift thy drooping head
Thou who in gloom and dread
Hast lain so long.
Death comes to set thee free,
O meet him cheerily
As thy true friend,
And all thy fears shall cease,
And in eternal peace
Thy penance end.
"Amen," said Sintram  and Rolf, folding their hands; and
whilst the last chords of the lute still resounded, the chaplain
and the castellan came slowly and gently into the room.  " I
bring a precious Christmas gift," said the priest.  "After many
sad years, hope of reconciliation and peace of conscience are
returning to a noble, but long disturbed mind. This concerns
you, beloved pilgrim; and do you, my Sintram, with a joyful
trust in Gol take encouragement and example from it."
"More than twenty years aTgo,  began the castellan at a sign
from the chaplain, "4 more than twenty years ago I was a stout
and active herdsman, and I drove my flock up the mountains.
A young knight followed me, whom they called Weigand the
Slender.  He wanted to buy of me my favourite little lamb
for his fair bride, and offered me much red gold for it   I




200                    SINTRAM,
sturdily refused. The over-boldness of youth carried us both
away. A stroke of his sword hurled me senseless down the
precipice."
"Not killed?" asked the pilgrim in a scarce audible voice.
"I am no ghost," replied the castellan somewhat morosely;
and then after an earnest look from the priest he continued
more humbly: " I recovered slowly and in solitude, with the
help of remedies which were easily found by me, a herdsman,
in our productive vallies. When I came back into the world,
no man knew me with my scarred face, and my head which
had become bald. I heard a report going through the country,
that, on account of this deed of his, Sir Weigand the Slender
had been rejected by his fair betrothed Verena, and how he
had pined away, and she had wished to retire into a convent,
but her father had persuaded her to marry the great knight
Biorn. Then there came a fearful thirst for vengeance into
my heart, and I disowned my name and my kindred and my
home, and entered the service of the mighty Biorn as a
strange wild man, in order that Weigand the Slender should
always be deemed a murderer, and that I might feed on his
anguish. So have I fed upon it for all these long years. I
have revelled frightfully in his self-imposed banishment, in
his cheerless return home, in his madness. But to-day" —and
hot tears gushed from his eyes-" but to-day God has broken
the hardness of my heart; and dear Sir Weigand, look upon
yourself no more as a murderer, and say that you will forgive
me, and pray for him who has done you so fearful an injury,
and" - Sobs choked his words. He fell at the feet of the
pilgrim, who with tears of joy pressed him to his heart, in
token of forgiveness.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                201
CHAPTER XXI.
THE Joy of this hour passed from its first overpowering brightness, to the calm, thoughtful aspect of daily life, and Weigand,
now restored to health, laid aside the mantle with dead men's
bones, saying: " I had chosen for my penance to carry these
fearful remains about with me, in the idea that perhaps some
of them might have belonged to him whom I have murdered.
Therefore I used to search for them round about in the deep beds
of the mountain torrents, and in the high nests of the eagles
and vultures. And while I was searching I sometimes-could
it have been only an illusion?-I seemed to meet a being who
was very like myself, but far, far more powerful, and yet still
paler and more haggard."-An imploring look from Sintram
stopped the flow of his words. With a gentle smile, Weigand
bowed towards him, and said: " You know now all the deep,
unutterably deep sorrow which preyed upon me. My fear of
you, and my yearning love for you, are no longer without explanation to your kind heart. For, dear youth, though you
may be like your fearful father, you have also the kind gentle
heart of your mother, and its reflection brightens your pallid,
stern features, like the glow of a morning sky which lights up
ice-covered mountains and valleys. But alas! how long have
you lived alone even amidst your fellow-creatures! And how
long is it since you have seen your mother, my dearly-loved
Sintram?"
"I feel, too, as though a spring were gushing up in the barren
wilderness of my heart," replied the youth; "and I should perchance be altogether restored, could 1 but keep you long with
me, and weep with you, dear friend. But I have that within
me which says that you will very soon be taken from me."
"I believe, indeed," said the pilgrim,' that my song the




202                   SINTRAM,
other day was very near my last, and that it contained a
prediction full soon to be accomplished in me. But, as the
soul of man is always like the thirsty ground, the more blessings God has bestowed on us, the more earnestly do we
look out for new ones, so would I crave for one more ere my
life closes, as I would fain hope, in happiness. Yet indeed
it cannot be granted me," added he, with a faltering voice,
"for I feel myself too utterly unworthy of such high grace."
" But it will be granted!" said the chaplain joyfully. " He
that bumbleth himself shall be exalted, and I fear not to take
him who is now cleared from the stain of murder, to receive a
farewell from the holy and forgiving countenance of Verena."
The pilgrim stretched both his hands up towards Heaven,
and an unbroken thanksgiving seemed to pour from his beaming eyes, and to brighten the smile that played on his lips.
Sintram looked sorrowfully on the ground, and sighed
gently to himself: "Alas! happy he who dared go also!"
" My pool, good Sintram," said the chaplain in a tone of the
softest kindness, " I understand you well, but the time is not
yet come. The powers of Evil will again raise up their wrathful heads within you, and Verena must check both her own and
your longing desires, until all is pure in your spirit as in her's.
Comfort yourself with the thought that God looks mercifully
upon you, and that the joy so earnestly sought for, will not fail
to come-if not here, most assuredly beyond the grave."
But the pilgrim, as though awaking out of a trance, rose with
energy from his seat, and said: " Do you please to come forth
with me, reverend chaplain?  Before the sun appears in the
heavens, we could reach the Convent-gates, and I should not be
far from Heaven."
In vain did the chaplain and Rolf remind him of his weakness: he smiled, and said that there could be no question about
it, and he girded himself, and tuned the lute which he had
asked leave to take with him. His decided manner overcame
all opposition, almost without words: and the chaplain had
already prepared himself for the journey, when the pilgrim
looked with much emotion at Sintram, who, oppressed with a




AND HIS COMPANIONS                        203
strange weariness, had sunk half asleep on a couch, and he
said: " Wait a moment. I know that he wants me to give him
a soft lullaby." The pleased smile of the youth seemed to say
yes, and the pilgrim, touching the strings with a light hand,
sang these words:" Sleep peacefully, dear boy,
Thy mother sends the song
That whispers round thy couch,
To lull thee all night long.
In silence and afar,
For thee she ever prays,
And longs once more in fondness
Upon thy face to gaze.
And when thy waking cometh,
Then in thy every deed,
In all that may betide thee,
Unto her words give heed.
O listen for her voice,
If it be yea or nay,
And though temptation meet thee,
Thou shalt not miss the way.
If thou canst listen rightly,
And nobly onward go,
Then pure and gentle breezes
Around thy cheeks shall blow.
Then on thy peaceful journey
Her blessing thou shalt feel,
And though from thee divided,
Her presence o'er thee steal
O safest, sweetest, comfort!
O blest and living light!
That strong in Heaven's power
All terrors put to flight!
Rest quietly, sweet child,
And may the gentle numbers
Thy mother sends to thee,
Waft peace unto thy slumbers."
Sintram fell into a deep sleep, smiling and breathing softly.
Rolf and the castellan remained by his bed, whilst the two
travellers pursued their way in the quiet starlight.




204                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XXII.
THE dawn had almost appeared, when Rolf, who had been
asleep, was awoke by low singing, and as he looked round, he
perceived with surprise that the sounds came from the lips of
the castellan, who said, as if in explanation: "So does Sir
Weigand sing at the convent-gates, and they are kindly opened
to him." Upon which old Rolf fell asleep again, uncertain
whether what had passed had been a dream or a reality. After awhile the bright sunshine awoke him again, and when he
rose up, he saw the countenance of the castellan wonderfully
illuminated by the red light of the morning sun, and altogether
those features, once so fearful, were shining with a soft, nay,
almost child-like mildness of expression. The mysterious man
seemed to be the while listening to the motionless air, as if he
were hearing a most pleasant discourse, and as Rolf was about
to speak, he made him a sign of entreaty to remain quiet, and
he continued in his eager, listening attitude.
At length he sank slowly and contentedly back in his seat,
whispering: "God be praised!  She has granted his last prayer; he will be laid in the burial-ground of the convent, and now
he has forgiven me from the bottom of his heart. I can assure
you, that he is having a peaceful end."
Rolf did not dare ask a question, or awake his lord; he felt
as if one already departed had spoken to him.
The castellan remained still for a long space of time, always
with a bright smile on his face. At last he raised himself up a
little, again listened, and said: "It is over. The sound of the
bells is very sweet. We have overcome. Oh! how soft and
easy does the good God make it to us!" And so it came to
pass. He stretched himself back as if weary, and his soul was
freed from his care-worn body.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                205
Rolf now gently awoke his young knight, and pointed to the
smiling face of the dead. And Sintram smiled too; he and his
good esquire fell on their knees and prayed to God for the departed spirit. Then they rose up, and bore the cold body to
the vaulted hall, and watched by it with holy candles until the
return of the chaplain. That the pilgrim would not come back
again, they very well knew.
Towards mid-day, accordingly, the chaplain returned alone.
He could scarcely do more than confirm what was already
known to them.  He only added a comforting and hopeful
greeting from Sintram's mother to her son, and told that the
blissful Weigand had fallen asleep like a tired child, whilst
Verena with calm tenderness held a crucifix before him.
" And in eternal peace our penance end!"
sang Sintram gently to himself, and they prepared a last rest
ing-place for the now so peaceful castellan, and laid him therein with all the due solemn rites.
The chaplain was obliged soon afterwards to depart, but
when bidding Sintram farewell, he again said kindly to him:
"' Your dear mother knows assuredly, how gentle, and calm,
and good, you are now becomeJ"




2i)A                   SINTRAM.
CHAPTER XXIII.
IN the castle of Sir Biorn of the Fiery Eyes, Christmas eve had
not passed so brightly and happily, but yet there too all bad
gone visibly according to God's will.
Folko, at the entreaty of the lord of the castle, had allowed
Gabrielle to support him into the hall, and the three now sat at
the round stone-table whereon a sumptuous meal was laid. On
either side, there were long tables, at which sat the retainers of
both knights, in full armour, according to the custom of the
north. Torches and lamps lighted the lofty hall with an almost
dazzling brightness.
The deepest shades of night had now gathered around, and
Gabrielle softly reminded her wounded knight to withdraw.
Biorn heard her and said: " You are right, fair lady, our knight
needs rest. Only let us first keep up one more old honourable
custom."
And at his sign four attendants brought in with pomp a great
boar's head, which looked as if cut out of solid gold, and placed
it in the middle of the stone-table. Biorn's retainers rose with
reverence, and took off their helmets; Biorn himself did the
same.
"What means this?" asked Folko very gravely.
"What your forefathers and mine have done on etery Yule
Feast," answered Biorn. "We are going to make vows on
the boar's head, and then pass the goblet round to their fulfilment."
"We no longer keep what our ancestors called the Yule
Feast," said Folko; "we are good Christians, and we keep holy
Christmas-tide."
" We may observe the one without leaving off the other,"
answered Biorn.  "I hold my ancestors too dear to forget their




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 207
knightly customs.  Those who think otherwise may act accordino to their wisdom, but that shall not hinder me. I swear
by the golden boar's-head"    And he stretched out his hand
towards it.
But Folko called out,'" In the Name of our Holy Saviour,
forbear. Where I am, and still have breath and will, none celebrate the rites of the wild heathens."
Biorn of the Fiery Eyes glared angrily at him. The men
of the two barons separated from each other, with a hollow
sound of rattling armour, and ranged themselves in two bodies
on either side of the hall, each behind its leader. Already here
and there helmets were fastened and visors closed.
" Bethink thee yet what hou art doing," said Biorn. "I was
about to vow an eternal union with the house of Montfau;on,
nay, even to bind myself to do it grateful homage, but if thou
disturbest me in the cnutoms which have come to me from my
forefathers, look to thy safety, and the safety of all that is dear
to thee. My wrath no longer knows any bounds."
Folko made a sign to the pale Gabrielle to retire behind his
followers, saying to her: " Be of good cheer, my noble wife,
weaker Christians have borne, for the sake of God and of His
holy Church, greater dangers than now seem to threaten us.
Believe me, the lord of Montfauvon is not so easily overcome."
Gabrielle obeyed, something comforted by Folko's fearless
smile, but this smile inflamed yet more the fury of Biorn. He
again stretched out his hand towards the boar's head, as if
about to make some dreadful vow, when Folko snatched a
gauntlet of Biorn's off the table, with which he, with his unwounded left arm, struck such a powerful blow on the gilt idol
that it fell crashing to the ground, shivered to pieces. Biorn
and his followers stood as if turned to stone. But soon swords
were grasped by armed hands, shields were taken down from
the walls, and an angry threatening murmur sounded through
the hall.
At a sign from Folko, one of his faithful retainers brought
him a battle-axe; he swung it high in the air with his power



208                    SINTRAM,
ful left hand, and he stood looking like an avenging angel as
he spoke these words through the tumult with awful calmness:
" What seek ye. O ye deluded Northmen?  What wouldst
thou, sinful lord? You are indeed become heathens, and I
hope to show you that it is not in my right arm alone that
God has put strength for victory. But if you can yet hear,
listen to my words. Biorn, on this same accursed, and now,
by God's help, shivered boar's head, thou didst lay thy hand
when thou didst swear to sacrifice any inhabitants of the
German towns that should fall into thy power. And Gotthard
Lenz came, and Rudlieb came, driven on these shores by
the storm. What didst thou then do, savage Biorn? What
did you do at his bidding, you who were keeping the Yulefeast with him? Try your fortune on me. The Lord will be
with me as he was with those holy men. To arms! and-"
(he turned to his warriors,)-" let our battle-cry be Gotthard
and Rudlieb!"
Then Biorn let drop his drawn sword; then his followers
paused, and none among the Norwegians dared lift his eyes
from the ground. By degrees they one by one began to disappear from the hall; and at last Biorn stood quite alone opposite
to the baron and his followers. He seemed hardly aware that
he had been deserted, but he fell on his knees, stretched out
his shining sword, pointed to the broken boar's head, and said.
1" Do with me as you have done with that; I deserve no better.
I ask but one favour, only one; do not disgrace me, noble
baron, by seeking shelter in another castle while you remain in
Norway."
"I do not fear you," answered Folko, after some thought,
" and as far as may be, I freely forgive you." Then he drew
the sign of the Cross over the wild form of Biorn, and left the
hall with Gabrielle. The retainers of the house of Montfaucon
followed him proudly and silently.
The high spirit of the fierce lord of the castle was now
quite broken, and he watched with increased humility every
look of Folko and Gabrielle. But they withdrew more and




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                209
more into the happy solitude of their own apartments, where
they enjoyed in the midst of the sharp winter a bright springtide of love and happiness. The wounded condition of Folko
did not hinder the evening delights of songs and music and
poetry —but rather a new charm was added to them when the
tall, handsome knight leant on the arm of his delicate lady,
and they thus, changing as it were their deportment and duties, walked slowly through the torch-lit halls, scattering their
kindly greetings like flowers among the crowds of men and
women.
All this time little or nothing was heard of poor Sintram.
The last wild outbreak of his father had increased the terror
with which Gabrielle remembered the self-accusations of the
youth; and the more resolutely Folko kept silence, the more
did she fear that some dreadful mystery lay beneath. Indeed
a secret shudder came over the knight when he thought on
the pale, dark-haired youth. Sintram's repentance had bordered on settled despair; no one knew even what he was
doing in the fortress of Evil-Report on the Rocks of the Moon.
Strange rumours were brought by the retainers who had fled
from it, that the Evil Spirit had obtained complete power
over Sintram, that no man could stay with him, and that the
fidelity of the dark and mysterious castellan had cost him
his life.
Folko could hardly drive away the fearful imagination that
the lonely young knight was become a wicked magician.
And perhaps indeed evil spirits did flit about the banished Sintram, but it was without his calling them up. In his dreams he
often saw the wicked enchantress Venus, in her golden chariot
drawn by winged cats, pass over the battlements of the stone
fortress, and heard her say, mocking hiln::" Foolish Sintram,
foolish Sintram, hadst thou but listened to the Little Master's
words! Thou wouldst now be in Helen's arms, and the Rocks
of the Moon would be called the Rocks of Love, and the stone
fortress would be the garden of roses. Thou wouldst have
15




210                    SINTRAM,
lost thy pale face and black tangled hair,-for thou art only
enchanted, dear youth,-and thine eyes would have beamed
more softly, and thy cheeks bloomed more freshly, and thy hair
would have been more golden than was that of prince Paris,
when men wondered at his beauty. Oh! how Helen would
hlve loved thee!" Then she showed him, in a mirror, his own
figure kneeling before Gabrielle, who sank into his arms blushing as the morning. When he awoke from such dreams, he
would seize in eager haste the sword and scarf which his lady
had given him, as a shipwrecked man seizes the plank which is
to save him, and while the hot tears fell upon it, he would murmur to himself: " There was indeed one hour in my sad life
when I was happy, and deserved it."
Once he sprang up at midnight after one of these dreams.
only this time with a more thrilling horror than usual; for it
had seemed to him that the features of the enchantress Venus
had changed towards the end of her speech, as she looked
down upon him with marvellous scorn, and she appeared to
him almost to assume those of the hideous Little Master. The
youth had no better means of calming his distracted mind than
to throw the sword and scarf of Gabrielle over his shoulders;
and to hasten forth under the solemn starry canopy of the wintry sky. He walked in deep thought backwards and forwards
under the leafless oaks, and the snow-laden firs, which grew on
the high ramparts.
Then he heard a sorrowful cry of distress sound from the
moat; it was as if some one were attempting to sing, but was
stopped by excess of grief. Sintram exclaimed, W" rho's
there?" and all was still. When he was silent and again began his walk, the frightful groanings and moanings were heard
afresh, as if they came from a dying person. Sintram overcame the horror which seemed to hold him back, and began in
silence to climb down into the deep dry moat, which was cut
in the rock  lIe was soon so low down that he could no longer
see the stars shining; he saw a shrouded form move beneath
him, —and sliding rapidly down the remainder of the steep de



AND HIS COMPANIONS.                211
scent, he stood near the groaning figure; it ceased its lamenta
tions, and began to laugh like a maniac from beneath its long
folded iemale garments.
" Oh, ho, my comrade! Oh, ho, my comrade! You are now
going a little too fast: well, well, it is all right: and see now,
you stand no higher than I, my pious valiant youth I Take it
patiently,-take it patiently!"
" What do you want with me?  Why do you laugh? why
do you weep?" asked Sintram impatiently.
"I might ask you the same question," answered the dark
figure, " and you would be less able to answer me, than I to
answer you. Why do you laugh? why do you weep? —Poor
creature! But I will show you a remarkable thing in your
fortress, of which you know nothing. Give heed!I"
And the shrouded figure began to scratch and scrape at the
stones till a little iron door opened, and showed a long passage
which led into the deep darkness.
" Will you come with me?" whispered the strange being:
"it is the shortest way to your father's castle. In half an hour
we shall come out of this passage, and we shall be in your
beauteous lady's apartment. King Menelaus shall lie in a magic sleep,-leave that to me,-and then you will take the slight
delicate form in your arms, and you will bring her to the Rocks
of the Moon; so you will recover all that seemed lost by your
former wavering."
Then Sintram might have been seen to stagger. He was
shaken to and fro by the fever of passion and the stings of conscience  but at last, pressing the sword and scarf to his heart,
he cried out: "Oh! that fairest, most glorious hour of my
life! IfI lose all otlierjoys, I will hold fast that brightest hour!'
" A bright, glorious hour!" said the figure from under its
veil, like an evil echo. "Do you know whom you then conquered? A good old friend, who only showed himself so
sturdy in order to give you the glory of overcoming him.
Will you convince yourself?  Will you look?"
r'he dark garments of the little figure flew open, and Sin



212o                    SINTRAM,
tram saw the dwarf warrior in strange armour with the gold
horn on his helmet, and the curved spear in his hand; the very
same whom Sintram thought he had slain on Niflung's Heath,
now stood before him, and grinned as he said: " You see, my
friend, every thing in the wide world is made up of dreams and
froth; wherefore hold fast the dream which delights you, and
sip up the froth which refreshes you I Hasten to that underground passage, it leads up to your angel Helen. Or would
you first know your friend yet better?"
His visor opened, and the hateful face of the Little Master
glared upon the knight. Sintram asked, as if in a dream: "Art
thou also that wicked enchantress Venus?"
"Something like her," answered the Little Master, laughing,'c or rather she is something like me. And if you will only get
disenchanted, and recover the beauty of prince Paris,-then, O
prince Paris," and his voice changed to an alluring song, " then,
O prince Paris, I shall be fair like you!"
At this moment the good Rolf appeared above on the rampart; a consecrated taper in his lantern shone down intq the
moat, as he sought for the young knight. " In God's name, Sir
Sintram," he called out, "; what have you to do there with the
spectre of him whom you slew on Niflung's Heath, and whom
I never could bury?"
" Do you see? do you hear?" whispered the Little Master,
and drew back into the darkness of the underground passage.
9" The wise man up there knows me well. You see your heroic
feat came to nothing. Come, take the joys of life while you
may!"
But Sintram sprang back with a strong effort into the circle
of light made by the shining of the taper from above, and cried
out: " Depart from me, unquiet spirit! I know well that I
bear a name on me, in which thou canst have no part."
Little Master rushed, in fear and rage, into the passage, and,
yelling, shut the iron door behind him. It seemed as if he
could be still heard groaning and roaring.
Sintram climbed up the wall of the moat, and made a sign to




AND HIS COMPANIONS.               213
his foster-father not to speak to him-he only said: " One
of my best joys, yes, the very best, has been taken from mebut by God's help, I am not yet wholly lost."
In the earliest light of the following morning, he and Rolf
stopped up the entrance to the perilous passage with huge
blocks of stone.




214                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE long northern winter was at last ended; the fresh, green
leaves rustled merrily in the woods, patches of soft moss appeared amongst the rocks, the valleys were clotlied with grlass,
the brooks sparkled, the snow melted from all but the highest
mountain-tops, and the bark which was ready to carry away
Folko and Gabrielle danced on the sunny waves. The baron,
who was now quite recovered, and strong and fresh as though
his health had sustained no injury, stood one morning on the
shore with his fair lady, and, flll of glee at the prospect of returning to their home, the noble pair looked on with satisfaction at their attendants, who were busied in the ship with
preparations for the voyage.
Then said one of them, in the midst of a confused sound of
talking: " But what has appeared to me the most fearful and
the most strange thing in this northern land, is the stone fortress
on the Rocks of the Moon: I have never indeed been inside it,
but when I used to see it in our huntings, towering above the
tall fir-trees, there came a tightness over my breast, as if some
unearthly beings were dwelling in it. And a few weeks ago,
when the snow was yet lying hard in the valleys, I came unawares quite close upon the strange building. The young knight
Sintram was walking alone on the ramparts as the shades of
twilight stole on, like the spirit of a departed knight, and he
drew from the lute which he carried such soft melancholy tones,
and he sighed so deeply and sorrowfully..."
The voice of the speaker was drowned in the noise of the
crowd, and as he also just then reached the ship with his package, which had been hastily fastened up, Folko and Gabrielle
could not hear the rest of his speech. But the fair lady looked
aon her knight with eyes dim with tears, and sighed: 1" Is it not




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 215
behind those mountains that the Rocks of the Moon lie?  The
unhappy Sintram makes me sad at heart."
" I understand you, sweet gracious lady, and the pure compassion which fills your heart," replied Folko, and instantly
ordered his swift-footed steed to be brought. He placed his
noble lady under the charge of his retainers, and leaping into
the saddle, he pursued his way, followed by the grateful smiles
of Gabrielle, along the valley which led towards the stone fortress.
Sintram was seated near the drawbridge, touching the strings
of the lute, and shedding some tears on the golden chords,
almost exactly as Montfau;on's esquires had described him.
Suddenly a cloudy shadow passed over him, and he looked up,
expecting to see a flight of cranes in the air; but the sky was
clear and blue. While the young knight was still wondering:
a long bright spear fell at his feet from a battlement of the
armoury turret. " Take it up,-make good use of it! your
foe is near at hand! Near also is the downfal of your cherished hopes of happiness!" Thus he heard it distinctly whispered in his ear; and it seemed to him that he saw the shadow
of the Little Master glide close by him to a neighbouring cleft in
the rock. But at the same time, also, a tall, gigantic, haggard
figure passed along the valley, in some measure like the departed
pilgrim, only much, very much larger, and he raised his long
bony arm with an awfully threatening air, then disappeared in
an ancient tomb.
At the very same instant Sir Folko of Montfaumon came swiftly as the wind up the Rocks of the Moon, and he must have seen
something of those strange apparitions, for, as he stopped close
behind Sintram, he looked rather pale, and he asked low and
earnestly: " Sir knight, who are those two with whom you were
just now holding converse here?"
" The good God knows," answered Sintram. "I know them
not."
" If' the good God does but know!" cried Montfaupon. "But
I fear me that he knows you not, nor your deeds."
" You speak strangely harsh words," said Sintram. "Yet
ever since that evening of misery,-alas I and even long before




216                     SINTRAM,
-I have no right to complain of anything you may say or do.
Dear sir, you may believe me, I know not those fearful companions; I call them not; and I know not what terrible curse it is
which binds them to my footsteps. The merciful God, as I would
hope, is mindful of me the while, as a faithful shepherd does not
forget even the worst and most widely-strayed of his flock, but
calls after it with an anxious voice in the gloomy wilderness."
Then the anger of the baron was quite melted.  Two tears
stood in his eyes, and he said: " No, assuredly, God has not forgotten you; only do you not forget your gracious God. I did not
come to rebuke you-I came to bless you in Gabrielle's name
and in my own. The Lora preserve you, the Lord guide you,
the Lord lift you up. And Sintrain, on the far-off shores of
Normandy I shall bear you in mind, and I shall hear how you
struggle against the curse which darkens your unhappy life,
and if you ever obtain the victory over it, and overcome in the
evil day, then you shall receive from me a token of love and
reward, more precious than either you or I can understand at
this moment."
The words flowed prophetically from  the baron's lips; he
himself was only half-conscious of what he said. With a kind
salutation he turned his noble steed, and again flew down the
valley towards the sea-shore.
"Fool, fool, thrice a fool!" whispered the angry voice of
the Little Master, in Sintram's ear, but old Rolf was singing his
morning hymn in clear tones within the castle, and the last lines
were these:"Whom worldlings scorn,
Who lives forlorn,
On God's own word doth rest;
With heavenly light,
His path is bright,
His lot among the blest."
Then a holy joy took possession of Sintram's heart; and he
looked around him yet more gladly than in the hour when Gabriedle gave him the scarf and sword, and Folko dubbed him
knight.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 217
CHAPTER XXV.
THE baron and his lovely lady were sailing across the broad sea
with favouring gales of spring, nay the coast of Normandy had
already appeared above the waves, but still was Biorn of the
Fiery Eyes sitting gloomy and speechless in his castle. He
had taken no leave of his guests. There was more of proud
fear of Montfauwon, than of reverential love for him in his soul,
especially since the adventure with the boar:s head, and the
thought was bitter to his haughty spirit, that the great baron,
the flower and glory of their whole race, should have come in
peace to visit him, and should now be departing in displeasure,
in stern reproachful displeasure. He had constantly before his
mind, and it never failed to bring fresh pangs, the remembrance
of how all had come to pass, and how all might have gone
otherwise; and he was always fancying he could hear the songs
in which after-generations would recount this voyage of the
great Folko, and the worthlessness of the savage Biorn. At
length, full of fierce anger, he cast away the fetters of his
troubled spirit, he burst out of the castle with all his horsemen,
and began to carry on a warfare more fearful and more lawless
than any in which he had yet been engaged.
Sintram heard the sound of his father's war-horn, and committing the stone fortress to old Rolf, he sprang forth ready
armed for the combat But the flames of the cottages and
farms on the mountains rose up before him, and showed him,
written as if in characters of fire, what kind of war his father
was waging. Yet he went on towards the spot where the army
was mustered, but only to offer his mediation, affirming that he
would not lay his hand on his good sword in so abhorred a
service, even though the stone fortress, and his father's castle
besides, should fall before the vengeance of their enemies.




218                    SINTRAM,
Biorn hurled the spear which he held in his hand against his
son with mad fury. The deadly weapon whizzed past him.
Sintram remained standing with his visor raised, he did not
move one limb in his defence, when he said: " Father! do what
you will; but I join not in your godless warfare."
Biorn of the Fiery Eyes laughed scornfully: " It seems that
[ am always to have a spy over me here; my son succeeds to
the dainty French knight!" But nevertheless he came to himself, he accepted Sintlanl's mediation, made amends for the injuries he had done, ard returned gloomily to his castle. Sintram
went back to the Rocks of the Moon.
Such occurrences were frequent after that time. It went so
far that Sintram came to be looked upon as the protector of all
those whom his father pursued with relentless fury; but nevertheless, sometimes his own wildness would carry the young
knight away to accompany his fierce father in his fearful deeds.
Then Biorn used to laugh with horrible pleasure, and to say:
U See there, my son, how the flames we have lighted blaze up
from the villages, as the blood spouts up from the wounds our
swords have made! It is plain to me, however much you may
pretend to the contrary, that you are, and that you will ever remain, my true and beloved heir!"
After such terrible wanderings, Sintram could find no comfort
but in hastening to the chaplain of Drontheim, and confessing
to him his misery and his sins. The chaplain would freely
absolve him after due penance had been performed, and again
raise up the broken-hearted and repenting youth; but he would
often say: "Oh! how nearly had you reached your last trial
and gained the victory, and looked on Verena's countenance,
and atoned for all! Now you have thrown yourself back for
years. Think, my son, on the shortness of man's life; if you
are always falling back anew, how will you ever reach the sum
mit on this side the grave?"
Years came and went, and Biorn's hair was white as Qnow,
and the youth Sintram had reached the middle age; old Rolf
was now scarcely able to leave the stone fortress; and some



AND HIS COMPANIONS.                219
times he said:   I feel it a burden that my life should yet be
prolonged, but also there is much comfort in it, for I shall think
that the good God has in store for me here below some great
happiness; and it must be something in which you are concerned, my beloved Sir Sintram, for what else in the whole
world could rejoice my heart?"
But, nevertheless, every thing remained as it was, only Sintram's fearful dreams at Christmas-time each year rather in.
creased than diminished in horror. Again, the holy season
was drawing near, and the mind of the sorely afflicted knight
was more troubled than ever before. Sometimes, if he had
been reckoning up the nights which were yet to elapse before
it, a cold sweat would stand on his forehead, while he said:
" Mark my words, dear old foster-father, this time something
most awfully decisive lies before me."
One evening he felt an overwhelming anxiety about his father. It seemed to him that the Prince of Darkness was going
up to Biorn's castle; and in vain did Rolf remind him that the
snow was lying deep in the valleys, in vain did he suggest that
the knight might be overtaken by his frightful dreams in the
lonely mountains during the night-time. "Nothing can be
worse to me than remaining here would be," replied Sintram.
He took his horse from the stable and rode forth in the gathering darkness. The noble steed slipped and stumbled and
fell in the trackless ways, but his rider always raised him up
and urged him only more swiftly and eagerly towards the object which he longed and yet dreaded Xo reach. Nevertheless
he might never have arrived at it, had not his faithful hound
Skovmark kept with him. The dog sought out the lost track
for his beloved master, and invited him into it with joyous
barkings, and warned him by his howls against hidden precipices and treacherous ice under the snow. Thus they arrived
about midnight at Biorn's castle. The windows of the hall
shone opposite to them with a brilliant light, as though some
great feast were being kept there, —and confused sounds, as of




220                   SINTRAM,
singing, met their ears. Sintram gave his horse hastily to some
retainers in the court-yard, and ran up the steps, whilst Skovinark
staid by the well-known horse.
A good esquire came towards Sintram within the castle, and
said: " God be praised, my dear master, that you are come,for surely nothing good is going on above. But take heed to
yourself, also, and be not deluded. Your father has a guest
with him, —and, as I think, a very evil one."
Sintram shuddered as he threw open the doors. A little man
in the dress of a miner was sitting with his back towards him;
the armour had been for solne time past again ranged round
the stone table, so that only two places were ever left empty.
The seat opposite the door had been taken by Biorn of the Fiery
Eyes; and the dazzling light of the torches fell upon his features with such a red glare, that he most fully established his
right to that fearful surname.
1" Father, whom have you here with you?" cried Sintram;
and his suspicions rose to certainty as the miner turned round,
and the detestable face of the Little Mliaster grinned from under
the dark hood he wore.
"' Yes, just see, my fair son," said the wild Biorn; " you
have not been here for a long while,-and so to-night this jolly
comrade has paid me a visit, and your place has been taken.
But throw one of the suits of armour out of the way, and put
a seat for yourself instead of it, —and come and drink with us,
and be merry."
"Yes, do so, Sir Sintram," said the Little Master, with a
laugh. " Nothing worse could come of it than that the broken
pieces of armour might clatter somewhat strangely one against
the other; or, at most, that the disturbed spirit of him to whom
the suit belonged, might look over your shoulder: but he would
not drink up any of our wine-ghosts have nothing to do with
that. So now fall to!"
Biorn joined in the laughter of the hideous stranger with
wild mirth; and while Sintram was mustering up his whole
strength not to lose his senses at such terrible words, and was




AND  IS COMPANIONS.                 221
fixing a calm steady look on the Little Master's face, —the old
man cried out:
" Why do you look at him so?  Is it that you fancy there
is a mirror before you? Now that you are together, I do not
see it so much; but awhile ago I thought that you were like
enough to each other to be mistaken."
" God forbid!" said Sintram: and he walked up close to
the fearful apparition, saying:'" I command you, detestable
stranger, to depart from this castle, in right of my authority as
my father's heir,-as a consecrated knight, and as a Christian
man'"
Rorn Seented as if he wished to oppose himself to this com
mand with all his savage might. The Little Master muttered te aimself: " You are not by any means the master in
this house, pious knight; you have never lighted a fi:e on this
hearth."
Then Sintram drew the sword which Gabrielle had given
him,-held the cross formed by the hilt before the eyes of
his evil guest,-and said calmly, but with a powerful voice:
"Worship, or fly!"
And he fled! the frightful stranger,-he fled with such lightning speed, that it could scarcely be seen whether he had
sprung through the window or the door.  But in going he overthrew some of the arrnour, —the tapers went out, —and it seemed
that the pale blue flame which lighted up the hall in a marvellous manner, gave a fulfilment to the Little Master's former
words; and that the spirits of those to whom the armour had
belonged, were leaning over the table grinning fearfully.
Both the father and the son were filled with horror, —but
each chose an opposite way to save themselves. Biorn wished
to have his hateful guest back Igain; and the power of his
will was seen when the Little Master's step resounded anew
on the stairs, and his hard brown hand shook the lock of the
door. On the other hand, Sintram ceased not to say within
himself: "We are lost, if he comes back! We are lost to
all eternity, if he comes back!" And he fell onhis knees,




222                    SINTRAM,
and prayed fervently from the depth of his troubled heart to
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then the Little Master left the
door; and again Biorn willed him to return; and again Sintram's prayers drove him away. So went on this strife of wills
throughout the long night; and fierce whirlwinds raged the
while around the castle, till all the household thought the end
of the world was come. At length the dawn of morning appeared through the windows of the hall —the fury of the storm
was lulled, —Biorn sank back powerless in slumber on his seat;
-peace and hope were restored to the inmates of the castle,and Sintram, pale and exhausted, went out to breathe the dewy
air of the mild winter's morning before the castle-gates.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 223
CHAPTER XXVL
THE faithful Skovmark followed his master, caressing him; and
when Sintlam fell asleep on a stone seat in the wall, he lay at
his feet, keeping watchful guard. Suddenly he pricked up his
ears, looked round with delight, and bounded joyfully down the
mountain. Just afterwards the chaplain of Drontheim appeared
amongst the rocks, and the good beast went up to him as if to
greet him, and then again ran back to the knight to announce a
welcome visitor.
Sintram opened his eyes, to feel the pleasure of a child whose
Christmas-gifts have been placed at his bed-side to surprise him.
For the chaplain smiled at him as he had never yet seen him
smile. There was in it a token of victory and blessing, or at
least of the near approach of both. " You have accomplished
much yesterday, very much," said the holy priest, and his hands
were joined and his eyes full of bright tears. "I thank God
on your behalf, my noble knight. Verena knows all, and she
too blesses God. I do indeed now dare hope that the time will
soon come when you may appear before her. But Sintram, Sir
Sintram, there is need of haste —for the old man above requires
speedy aid, and you have still a heavy-as I hope the last-yet
a most heavy trial to undergo for his sake. Arm yourself, my
knight, arm yourself even with temporal weapons. In truth,
this time only spiritual armour is needed, but it always befits a
knight as wveil as a monk, to wear, in the decisive moments of
his life, the ent;re solemn garb of his station. If it so please
you, we will go directly to Drontheim together. You must
return thence to-night. Such is the tenor of the hidden decree,
which has been dimly unfolded "o Verena's foresight. Here
there is yet much that is wild and distracting, and you have
great need to-day of calm preparation."




224                    SINTRAM,
With humble joy Sintram bowed his assent, and called for
his horse and for a suit of armour. " Only," added he, " let
not any of that armour be brought, which was last night over,
thrown in the hall."
His orders were quickly obeyed. The arms which were
fetched, adorned with fine engraved work, the simple helmet,
formed rather like that of an esquire than a knight, the lance
of almost gigantic size, which belonged to the suit, —on all these
the chaplain gazed in deep thought, and with melancholy emotion. At last, when Sintram with the help of his esquires was
well-nigh equipped, the holy priest spoke: " Wonderful are the
ways of God's providence! See, dear Sintram, this armour
and this spear were formerly those of Sir Weigand the Slender,
and with them he did many mighty deeds. When he was
tended by your mother in the castle, and when even your father
still showed himself kind and courteous, he asked, as a favour,
that his armour and his lance should be allowed to hang in
Biorn's armoury,-Weigand himself, as you well know, intended to build a cloister and to live there as a monk,-and he
put his old esquire's helmet with it, instead of another, because
he was yet wearing that one when he first saw the fair Verena's
angelic face. How wondrously does it now come to pass, that
these very arms which have so long been laid aside, should
have been brought to you for the decisive hour of your life!
To me, as far as my short-sighted human wisdom can tell, to
me it seems truly a very solemn token, but one that is full of
high and glorious promise."
Sintram stood now in complete array, composed and stately,
and from his tall, slender figure might have been supposed still
in early youth, had not the deep lines of care which furrowed
his countenance shown him to be advanced in years.
" WTho has placed boughs on the head of my war-horse?"
asked Sintram of the esquires with displeasure. " I am not a
conqueror, nor a wedding-guest. And besides, there are no
boughs now, but these red and yellow crackling leaves of the
oak, dull and dead like the season itself."




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 225
"Sir knight, I know not, myself," answered an esquire, "but
it seemed to me that I could not do otherwise."
"Let it be," said the chaplain. "I feel that this is also sent
as a token full of meaning from the right source."
Then the knight threw himself into his saddle; the priest
went beside him; and they both rode slowly and silently towards Drontheirn.  The faithful dog followed his master.
When the lofty castle of Drontheim  appeared in sight, a gentle
smile spread itself over Sintram's countenance, like a gleam of
sunshine on a wintry valley. "God has done great things for
me," said he. "I once rushed from here, a fearfully wild boy;
I now come back, a penitent man. I trust that good is yet in
store for my poor troubled life."
The chaplain assented kindly, and soon afterwards the travellers passed under the echoing vaulted gateway into the castle.
yard. At a sign from the priest, the retainers approached with
respectful haste, and took charge of the horses; then he and
Sintrarn went through long winding passages, and up many
steps, to the remote chamber which the chaplain had chosen for
his own: far away from the noise of men, and near to the clouds
and the stars. There the two passed a quiet day in devout
prayer, and earnest reading of Holy Scripture.
When the evening began to close in, the chaplain arose and
said: " And now, my knight, get ready your horse, and mount
and ride back again to your father's castle. A toilsome way
lies before you, and I dare not go with you. But I can, and I
will call upon the Lord for you, all through the long, fearful
night. Oh, beloved instrument of the Most High, you will yet
not be lost!"
Thrilling with strange forebodings, but nevertheless strong
and vigorous in spirit, Sintram did according to the holy man's
desire. The sun set as the knight approached a long valley,
strangely shut in by rocks, through which lay the road to his
father's castle.
16




226                    SINTRAM,
CHAPTER XXVII.
BEFORE entering the rocky pass, the knight, with a prayer
and thanksgiving, looked back once more at the castle of Drontheim. There it was, so vast and quiet and peaceful, the bright
windows of the chaplain's high chamber yet lighted up by the
last gleam of the sun, which had already disappeared. In front
of Sintram was the gloomy valley, looking as if prepared to be
his grave.
Then there came towards him some one riding on a small
horse, and Skovmark, who had gone up to the stranger as if to
find out who he was, now ran back with his tail between his
legs and his ears put back, howling and whining, and he crept
terrified under his master's war-horse. But even the noble steed
appeared to have forgotten his once so fearless and warlike ardour. He trembled violently, and when the knight would have
turned him towards the stranger, he reared and snorted and
plunged, and began to throw himself backwards. It was only
with difficulty that Sintram's strength and horsemanship got the
better of him, and he was all white with foam when Sintram
came up to the unknown traveller.
"You have cowardly animals with you," said the latter, in a
low smothered voice.
Sintram was unable, in the ever-increasing darkness. rightly
to distinguish what kind of being he saw before him; only a
very pallid face, which at first he had thought was covered
with freshly fallen snow, met his eyes from amidst the long
hanging garments in which the figure was clothed. It seemed
that the stranger carried a small box, wrapped up; his little
horse, as if wearied out, bent his head down towards the ground,
whereby a bell, which hung from the wretched torn bridle under his neck, was made to give a strange sound  After a short




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 227
silence, Sintram replied: " Noble steeds avoid those of a worse
race, because they are ashamed of them; and the boldest dogs
are attacked by a secret terror at sight of forms to which
they are not accustomed. I have no cowardly animals with
me."
"Good, Sir knight, then ride with me through the valley."
"I am going through the valley, but I want no companions."
" But, perhaps, I want one. Do you not see that I am unarmed?  And at this season, at this hour, theie are frightful
unearthly beasts about."
Just then, as if to confirm the awful words of the stranger,
a thing swung itself down from one of the nearest trees covered
with hoar frost,-no one could say if it were a snake, or a
lizard,-it curled and twisted itself, and appeared to be going
to slide down upon the knight or his companion. Sintram
levelled his spear, and pierced the creature through. But with
the most hideous contortions it fixed itself firmly on the spear
head, and in vain did the knight endeavour to rub it off against
the rocks or the trees. Then he let his spear rest upon his
right shoulder, with the point behind him, so that the horrible
beast no longer met his sight, and he said with good courage to
the stranger: "It does seem indeed that I could help you, and
I am not forbidden to have an unknown stranger in my company; so let us push on bravely into the valley!"
" Help!" so resounded the solemn answer. "Not help. I,
perhaps, may help thee. But God have mercy upon thee, if the
time should ever come when I could no longer help thee. Then
thou wouldst be lost, and I should become very frightful tc thee.
But we will go through the valley, I have thy knightly word
for it. Come!"
They rode forward. Sintram's horse still showing signs of
fear, the faithful dog still whining, but both obedient to their
master's will. The knight was calm and steadfast. The snow
had slipped down from the smooth rocks, and by the light of the
rising moon could be seen various strange twisted shapes on




228                    SINTRAM,
their sides, some looking like snakes, and some like human
faces; but they were only formed by the veins in the rock, and
the half bare roots of trees which had planted themselves in
that desert place with capricious firmness. High above, and
at a great distance. the castle of Drontheim, as if to take leave,
appeared again through an opening in the rocks. The knight
then looked keenly at his companion, and he almost felt as if
Weigand the Slender were riding beside him.  "In God's
name," cried he, "art thou not the shade of that departed
knight who suffered and died for Verena 2"
"I have not suffered, I have not died, but ye suffer and ye
die, poor mortals!" murmured the stranger.  " I am not Weigand. I am that other one, who was so like him, and whom
thou hast also met before now in the wood."
Sintram strove to free himself from. the terror which came
over him at these words. He looked at his horse; it appeared
to him entirely altered. The dry, many coloured oak-leaves
on its head were waving like the flames around a sacrifice, in
the uncertain moon-light. He looked down again to see after
his faithful Skovmark. Fear had likewise most wondrously
changed him. On the ground in the middle of the road were
lying dead men's bones, and hideous lizards were crawling
about, and, in defiance of the wintry season, poisonous mushrooms were growing up all around.
" Can this be still my horse on which I am riding," said the
knight to himself in a low voice; " and can that trembling beast
which runs at my side, be my own dog?"
Then some one called after him in a yelling voice: " Stop I
Stop! Take me also with you I"
Looking round, Sintram perceived a small frightful figure,
with horns, and a face partly like a wild boar and partly like a
bear, walking along on its hind legs, which were those of a
horse, and in its hand was a strange hideous weapon shaped
like a hook or a sickle. It was the being who had been wont
to trouble him in his dreams, and alas I it was also the wretched




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 229
Little Master himself, who, laughing w;ldly, stretched out a long
claw towards the knight.
The bewildered Sintram murmured: " I must have fallen
asleep! and now my dreams are coming over me!"
"You are awake," replied the rider of the little horse, " but
you know me also in your dreams. For behold I I am Death'
And his garments fell from him, and there appeared a mouldering skeleton, its ghastly head crowned with serpents; that
which he had kept hidden under his mantle, was an hour-glass
with the sand almost run out. Death held it towards the knight
in his fleshless hand. The bell at the neck of the little horse
gave forth a solemn sound. It was a passing-bell.
" Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit!" prayed Sintram; and full of earnest devotion ne rode after Death, who
beckoned him on.
" He has not got you yet! He has not got you yet!"
screamed the fearful fiend. "Give yourself up to me rather.
In one instant,-for swift are your thoughts, swift is my might,
-in one instant you shall be in Normandy.  Helen yet blooms
in beauty as whei! she departed hence, and th's very night she
would be yours." And once again he began his unholy praises
of Gabrielle's loveliness, and Sintram's heart glowed like wildfire in his weak breast.
Death said nothing more, but raised the hour-glass in his
right hand yet higher and higher, and as the sand now ran out
more quickly, a soft light streamed from the glass over Sintram's countenance, and then it seemed to him as if eternity in
all its calm majesty were rising before him, and a world of coulfusion dragging him back with a deadly grasp.
"t I command thee, wild form that followest me," cried he, " I
command thee in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to cease
from thy seducing words, and to call thyself by that name by
which thou art recorded in Holy Writ!" A name, which
sounded more fearful than a thunder-clap, burst despairingly
from the lips of the Tempter, and he disappeared.




230                     SINTRAM,
"He will return no more," said Death in a kindly tone.
"And now I am become wholly thine, my stern companion?"
" Not yet, my Sintram. I shall not come to thee till many,
many years are past. But thou must not forget me the while."
" I will keep the thought of thee steadily before my soul,
thou fearful yet wholesome monitor, thou awful yet loving
guide!"
" Oh! I can truly appear very gentle." And so it proved indeed. His form became more softly defined in the increasing
gleam of light which shone from the hour-glass, the features
which had been awful in their sternness wore a gentle smile,
the crown of serpents became a bright palm-wreath, instead of
the horse appeared a white misty cloud on which the moonbeams played, and the bell gave forth sounds as of sweet lullabies. Sintram thought he could hear these words amidst
them:-," The world and Satan are o'ercome,
Before thee gleams eternal light.
Warrior, who hast won the strife,
Save from darkest shades of night,
Him before whose aged eyes,
All my terrors soon shall rise.'
The knight well knew that his father was meant, and he
urged on his noble steed, who now obeyed his master willingly
and gladly, and the faithful dog also again ran beside him fearlessly. Death had disappeared, but in front of Sintram there
floated a bright morning cloud, which continued visible after the
sun had risen in the clear winter sky to cheer and warm the earth.




AND HIS COMPANIONS                  231
CHAPTER XXVIIL
"HE is dead! the horrors of that fearful night of storm and tempest have killed him!" Thus said, about tnis time, some of
Biorn's retainers, who had not been able to bring him back to
his senses since the morning of the day before; they had made
a couch of wolf and bear skins for him in the gleat hall, in the
midst of the armour which still lay scattered around. One of
the esquires said with a low sigh: "T nie Lord have mercy on
his poor wild soul."
Just then the warder blew his horn from his tower, and a
trooper came into the room with a look of surprise. "A knight
is coming towards here," said he; "a wonderful knight. I
could have taken him for our lord Sintram-but a bright, bright
morning-cloud floats so close before him, and throws over him
such clear light, that one could fancy red flowers were showered down upon him. Besides, his horse has a reddish wreath
of flowers on his head, which was never a custom of the son of
our dead lord."
" It was exactly such a cne," replied another, " that I wove for
him yesterday. He was not pleased with it at first, but afterwards he let it remain."
"But why did you do that?"
"It seemed to me as if I heard a voice singing again and
again in my ear:' Victory! victory! the noblest victory!
The knight rides forth to victory!' And then I saw a branch
of our oldest oak tree stretched tcwards me, which had kept on
almost all its red and yellow leaves in spite of the snow. So I
did according to what I had heard sung; and I plucked some
of the leaves, and wove a triumphal wreath for the noble warhorse. At the same time Skovmark, —you know that the
faithful beast had always a great dislike to Biorn, and therefore




23 2                    SINTRAM,
had gone to the stable with the horse, —Skovmark jumped upon
me, fawning and seeming pleased, as if he wanted to thank me
for my work; and such noble animals understand well about
good prognostics."
They heard the sound of Sintram's spurs on the stone steps
and Skovmark's joyous bark. At that instant the supposed
corpse of old Biorn sat up —looked around with rolling, staring
eyes,-and asked of the terrified retainers in a hollow voice:
" Who comes there, ye people? who comes there? I know it
is my son. But who comes with him? On the answer to that
hangs the decision of my fate. For see, good people, Gotthard
and Rudlieb have prayed mnuch for me: yet if the Little Master
comes with him, I am lost in spite of them!"
" You are not lost, my beloved father!" Sintram's kind voice
was heard to say, as he softly opened the door, and the bright
red morning-cloud floated in with him.
Biorn joined his hands, cast a look of thankfulness up to
Heaven, and said, smiling: " Yes, praised be God! it is the
right companion! It is sweet gentle Death!" And then he
made a sign to his son to approach, saying: " Come here, my
deliverer; come blessed of the Lord, that I may relate to you
all that has passed within me."
As Sintram now sat close by his father's couch, all who were
in the room perceived a remarkable and striking change.  For
old Biorn, whose whole countenance, and not his eyes alone,
had been wont to have a fiery aspect, —was now quite pale,
almost like white marble: while, on the other hand, the cheeks
of the once deadly-pale Sintram glowed with a bright bloom
like that of early youth. It was caused by the morning-cloud
which still shone upon him, and the presence of which in the
room was rather felt than seen; but it produced a gentle thrill
in every heart.
" See, my son," began the old man, softly and mildly, " I have
lain for a long time in a death-like sleep, and have known
nothing of what was going on around me; but within,-ah!
within, I have had but too entire consciousness! I thought that




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                233
my soul would be destroyed by the eternal anguish; and yet
again I felt with much greater horror, that my soul was undying like that anguish. Beloved son, your cheeks that glowed
so brightly are beginning to grow pale at my words. I refrain
from nire. But let me relate to you something more cheering:
far, far away, I could see a bright, lofty church, where Gotthard and Rudlieb Lenz were kneeling and praying for me.
GCotthard had grown very old, and looked like one of our mountaibes covered with snow, on which the evening sun is shining;
and Rudlieb was also an elderly man, but very vigorous and
very strong; and they both, with all their strength and vigour,
were calling upon God to aid me, their enemy. Then I heard
a voice like that of an angel, saying:' His son does the most
for him! He must this night wrestle with Death and with the
Fallen One! His victory will be victory,-and his defeat will
be defeat, for the old man as well as for himself.' Thereupon
I awoke; and I knew that all depended upon whom you would
bring with you. You have conquered. Next to God, the praise
be to you!"
" Gotthard and Rudlieb have helped much," replied Sintram;
"and, beloved father, so have the fervent prayers of the chaplain of Drontheim. I felt, in the midst of temptation and deadly
fear, how the heaven-directed prayers of good men floated round
me and aided me."
" I am most willing to believe that, my noble son, and every
thing you say to me," answered the old man: and at the same
moment the chaplain also coming in, Biorn stretched out his
hand towards him with a smile of peace and joy. And now all
seemen to be surrounded with a bright circle of ui_;ty and blessed ness. "But see," said old Biorn, "how the faithful Skovmark jumps upon me now, and tries to caress me. It is not
long since he used always to howl with terror when he saw me."'" My dear loid," said the chaplain, " there is a spirit dwelling in good beasts, although they are unconscious of it."
As the day wore on, the stillness in the hall increased. The
last hour of the aged knight was drawing near, but he met it




234                    SINTRAM,
calmly and fearlessly. The chaplain and Sintram prayed beside his couch. The retainers knelt devoutly around. At
length the dying man said: " Is that the vesper-bell in Verena's
cloister?" and Sintram made a sign to express his undoubting
belief that it was, while warm tears fell on the colourless cheeks
of his father. A gleam shone in the old man's eyes,-the
morning-cloud stood close over him, and then the gleam, the
morning-cloud, and life with them departed from him.




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                 235
CHAPTER XXIX.
A FEW days afterwards Sintram stood in the parlour of the
convent, and waited with a beating heart for his mother to appear. He had seen her for the last time, when, a slumbering
child, he had been awoke by her tender, farewell kisses, and
then had fallen asleep again to wonder in his dreams what his
mother had wanted with him, and to seek her in vain the next
morning in the castle and in the garden. The chaplain was
now at his side, rejoicing in the chastened rapture of the knight,
whose fierce spirit had been overcome, on whose cheeks a soft
reflection of that solemn morning-cloud yet lingered.
The inner doors opened. —In her white veil, stately and noble, the lady Verena came forward, and with a heavenly smile
she beckoned her son to approach the grating. There could
be no thought here of any passionate outbreak, whether of sorrow or of joy.* The holy peace which had its abode within
these walls, would have found its way to a heart less tried and
less purified than that which beats in Sintram's bosom. Shedding some placid tears, the son knelt before his mother, kissed
her flowing garments through the grating, and felt as if he were
in Paradise, —where every wish and every care is hushed.
"Beloved mother," said he, "let me become a recluse like you.
Then I will betake myself to the cloister yonder; and perhaps
I might one day be deemed worthy to be your confessor, if illness or the weakness of old age should keep the good chaplain
within the castle of Drontheim."
" That would be a sweet, quietly-happy life, my good child",
* "In whose sweet presence sorrow dares not lower,
Nor expectation rise,
Too high for earth."
Christian Year.




236                    SINTRAM,
replied the lady Verena; "but such is not your vocation
You must continue to be a bold, powerful kiuight, and you must
spend the long life which is almost always granted to us, children of the north, in succouring the weak, in keeping down
the lawless, and in yet another more bright and honourable
employment which I now rather dimly foresee, than clearly
know."
" God's will be done!" said the knight, and he rose up full
of self-devotion and firueness.
" That is my good son," said the lady Verena. "Ah! how
many sweet calm joys spring up for us! See, already is our
longing desire of meeting again satisfied, and you will never
more be so entirely estranged from me. Every week on this
day you will come back to me, and you will relate what glorious deeds you have done, and take back with you my advice
and my blessing."
" Am I not once more a good and happy child!" cried Sintram joyously; "only that the merciful God has given me in
addition the strength of a man in body and spirit. Oh! how
blessed is that son to whom it is allowed to gladden his mother's
heart with the blossoms and the fruit of his life!"
Thus he left the quiet cloister's shade, joyful in spirit and
richly laden with blessings, to enter on his noble career. He
was not content with going about wherever there might be a
rightful cause to defend, or evil to be averted; the gates of the
now hospitable castle stood always open also to receive and
shelter every stranger, —and old Rolf, who was almost grown
young again at sight of his lord's excellence, was established as
seneschal. The winter of Sintram's life set in bright and glorious, and it was only at times that he would sigh within himself
and say: " Ah! Montfau;on, ah! Gabrielle, if I could dare to
hope that you have quite forgiven me t"




AND HIS COMPANIONS.                237
CHAPTER XXX.
THE spring had come in its brightness to that northern land,
when one morning Sintram turned his horse homewards after a
successful encounter with one of the most formidable disturbers
of the peace of his neighbourhood. His horsemen rode after
him, singing as they went. As they drew near the castle they
heard the sound of joyous notes wound on the horn. "Some
welcome visitor must have arrived," said the knight, and he
spurred his horse to a quicker pace over the dewy meadow.
While still at some distance, they descried old Rolf busily engaged in preparing a table for the morning meal, under the
trees in front of the castle gates. From all the turrets and battlements floated banners and flags in the fresh morning breeze,
esquires were running to and fro in their gayest apparel. As
soon as the good Rolf saw his master, he clapped his hands
joyfully over his gray head, and hastened into the castle. Immediately the wide gates were thrown open, and Sintram, as he
entered, was met by Rolf, whose eyes -were filled with tears of
joy as he pointed towards three noble forms that were following
him.
Two men of high stature, —one in extreme old age, the othei
gray-headed, and both remarkably alike,-were leading between
them a fair young boy, in a page's dress of blue velvet, richly
embroidered with gold. The two old men wore the dark velv et
dress of German burghers, and had massive gold chains and
large shining medals hanging round their necks.
Sintram had never before seen his honoured guests, and yet
he felt as if they were well known and valued friends. The
very aged man reminded him of his dying father's words about
the snow-covered mountains lighted up by the evening sun;
and then he remembered, he could scarcely tell how, that he




238         SINTRAM, AND HIS COMPANIONS.
had heard Folko say that one of the highest mountains of that
soit in his southern land was called the St. Gotthard. And at
the same time he knew that the old but yet vigorous man on
the other side was named Rudlieb. But the ooy who stood between them,-ahl Sintram's humility dared scarcely form a
hope as to who he might be, however much his features, so noble and soft, called up two highly honoured images before his
mind.
Then the aged Gotthard Lenz, the prince of old men, advanced with a solemn step, and said: " This is the noble boy
Engeltram of Montfaumon, the only son of the great baron, and
his father and mother send him to you Sir Sintram, knowing
well your holy and glorious knightly career, that you may bring
him up to all the honourable and valiant deeds of this northern
land, and may make of him a Christian knight, like yourself."
Sintram threw himself from his horse. Engeltram of Montfauson held the stirrup gracefully for him, checking the retainers, who pressed forward, with these words: "' I am the noblest
born esquire of this knight, and the service nearest to his person
belongs to me."
Sintranl knelt on the turf to offer a silent prayer, then lifting
up the image of Folko and Gabrielle in his arms, towards the
rising sun, he cried: " With the help of God, my Engeltram,
you will become glorious as that sun, and your course will be
like his!"
And Rolf said, as he wept for joy, " Lord, now lettest Thou
Thy servant depart in peace."
Gotthard Lenz and Rudlieb were pressed to Sintram's heart;
the chaplain of Drontheim, who just thei came from Verena's
cloister, to bring a joyful greeting to her brave son, stretched out
his hands to bless them all.
END OF SINTRAM.