{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_18752/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_18752","id":"gutenberg_18752","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18752","summary":null,"tags":["Category: German Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Fairy tales","Water spirits -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Jason Isbell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                     TOLD TO THE CHILDREN SERIES\n\n                       EDITED BY LOUEY CHISHOLM\n\n\n       [Illustration: On the threshold stood a little maiden.]\n\n\n\n\n                    Friedrich de la Motte Fouquee\n\n\n                                UNDINE\n\n\n                       TOLD TO THE CHILDREN BY\n\n                            MARY MACGREGOR\n\n\n                           WITH PICTURES BY\n\n                          KATHARINE CAMERON\n\n\n\n\n                     LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK\n\n                     NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTO MARGARET\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nABOUT THIS BOOK\n\nUndine is the name of the water maiden whose story you will read as\nyou turn the leaves of this little book.\n\nUndine is beautiful as the dawn stealing across the waters, beautiful\nas the spray of the crystal waves.\n\nYet when she comes to earth she comes to seek for that without which\nher beauty will be for ever cold, cold and chill as the surge of the\nsalt, salt sea.\n\nLook deep into her blue eyes and you will see why her beauty is so\ncold, so chill.\n\nIn the eyes of every mortal you may see a soul. In the gay blue eyes\nof Undine, look you long and never so deep, no soul will look forth to\nmeet your gaze.\n\nLove, joy, sorrow, these are the pearls that shine in the eyes of\nevery mortal. But in the eyes of the water maiden there is no gleam\nof love, no sparkle of joy, no tear of sorrow.\n\nUndine has come to earth to seek for a soul. Without one she may never\nknow the golden gifts God has given to each mortal, gifts these of\nlove, joy, sorrow.\n\nYou will read in this little book how Undine, the water maiden, won\nfor herself a human soul.\n\nMARY MACGREGOR.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nChap.\n\nI.     The Fisherman and the Knight\n\nII.    Undine is Lost\n\nIII.   Undine is Found\n\nIV.    The Knight's Story\n\nV.     The Knight stays at the Cottage\n\nVI.    The Wedding\n\nVII.   Undine's Story\n\nVIII.  Huldbrand and Undine leave the Cottage\n\nIX.    The Knight returns to the City\n\nX.     The Birthday Feast\n\nXI.    The Journey to Castle Ringstetten\n\nXII.   Castle Ringstetten\n\nXIII.  The Black Valley\n\nXIV.   Huldbrand forgets his Promise\n\nXV.    Huldbrand and Bertalda\n\nXVI.   Bertalda's Wedding\n\nXVII.  The Burial\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF PICTURES\n\n\nOn the threshold stood a little maiden  _Frontispiece_\n\nAmid the sweet-scented grass, safe from the fury of the storm\n\n'I saw in a great cavern a group of little goblins'\n\nIn the little cottage were heard the solemn words of the marriage service\n\nThe three travellers soon reached the leafy shades of the forest\n\nAt the sound of his voice the girl burst into tears\n\nThe little waves seemed to sob as they whispered, 'Alas! alas!'\n\nSlowly, slowly there rose out of the mouth of the well a white figure\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE FISHERMAN AND THE KNIGHT\n\n\nA fisherman brought a stool to the doorway of his home and, sitting\ndown, he began to mend his nets.\n\nHis cottage stood in the midst of green meadows, and his eyes grew\nglad as he looked at the green grass. After the heat of the fair\nsummer's day it was so cool, so refreshing.\n\nAt the foot of the meadows lay a large lake of clear blue water. The\nfisherman knew it well. It was there his work was done, through\nsunshine or through storm.\n\nTo-day, as his gaze wandered from the green meadows to the blue lake,\nhe thought he saw the waters stretch out soft arms, until slowly they\ndrew the fair meadows, the little cottage into a loving embrace.\n\nThe fisherman, his wife and their foster-child lived very quietly on\nthis pleasant spot. It was but seldom that any one passed their door,\nfor between the beautiful meadows and the nearest town lay a wood. So\nwild and gloomy was the wood, so tangled its pathway, that no one\ncared to enter it.\n\nMoreover, it was said that there were strange beings lurking amid the\ngloom--ugly goblins, misshapen gnomes; and there were shadowy spirits\ntoo, which flitted through the branches of the strongest trees, and\nthese even the bravest would not wish to see.\n\nThrough this dark and haunted wood the old fisherman had often to\njourney.\n\nIt was true that he entered the dreaded shades with fear, yet no\nspectre ever crossed his path. But perhaps that was because the\nthoughts of the old man were pure, or perhaps because he never entered\nthe forest without singing a hymn in a clear brave voice.\n\nAs the fisherman sat mending his nets on this fair summer eve he began\nto move restlessly, to glance around uneasily.\n\nThen a sudden terror fell upon him as he heard a noise in the forest\nbehind.\n\nAh, how the trees rustled and how the grass was being trampled\nunderfoot! Could it be a horseman who made haste to escape from some\nterrible foe?\n\nAnd now, although he was wide awake, the fisherman seemed to see a\nfigure, which he had seen before only in his dreams.\n\nHe saw the figure of a tall, strong, snow-white man, who came with\nslow steps toward him, and at each step he took, the figure nodded his\ngreat white head.\n\nThe fisherman rubbed his eyes as he glanced toward the wood. At the\nsame moment the wind seemed to blow the leaves aside to make room for\nthe snow-white man, whose head never ceased to nod.\n\n'Well,' said the fisherman to himself, 'I have ever passed through the\nforest unharmed, why should I fear that evil will befall me here?' and\nhe began to repeat aloud a verse of the Bible.\n\nAt the sound of his own voice courage crept back into the heart of the\nfisherman, moreover the words of the Holy Book rebuked his fears. Nor\nwas it long before he was able even to laugh and to see how foolish he\nhad been.\n\nFor listen! The white nodding man was after all only a stream which\nthe fisherman knew very well, a stream which ran and bubbled out of\nthe forest and fell into the lake. As for the rustling noise, the\nfisherman saw what had caused that, as a gaily clad knight rode forth\nfrom the forest shadows toward the little cottage.\n\nThis was no spectre or spirit of the wood, this stranger who wore the\ngarments of a knight of high degree. He rode a white horse, which\nstepped softly, so that the flowers in the meadows lifted their\ndelicate heads uninjured by his tread.\n\nThe fisherman raised his cap as the stranger drew near, and then\nquietly went on mending his nets.\n\nNow when the knight saw the old man's face it was welcome to him, as\nindeed any human face would have been after the terrors of the forest.\nThere he had seen strange mocking faces peering at him whichever way\nhe turned, there he had been followed by strange shadowy forms from\nwhich escape had been wellnigh impossible; here at length was a kind\nand friendly mortal. He would ask him for the food and shelter of\nwhich both he and his steed stood in need.\n\n'Dear sir,' answered the fisherman when he had listened to the\nknight's request, 'dear sir, if you will deign to enter our lonely\ncottage, you will find a welcome with the food and shelter we offer.\nAs for your horse, can it have a better stable than this tree-shaded\nmeadow, or more delicious fodder than this green grass?'\n\nWell pleased with this answer, the knight dismounted, and together he\nand the fisherman freed the white horse from its saddle and bridle,\nand turned it loose into the waving meadow.\n\nThen the old man led the stranger into the cottage.\n\nHere, by the light of the kitchen fire, sat the fisherman's wife. She\nrose, with a kind greeting for the unexpected guest. Then seating\nherself again in her armchair, she pointed to an old stool with a\nbroken leg. 'Sit there, good knight,' she said; 'only you must sit\nstill, lest the broken leg prove too weak to bear you.'\n\nCarrying the stool over beside the old woman, the knight placed it\ncarefully on the floor and seated himself as he was bidden. As he sat\nthere talking with the good old fisherman and his wife, it seemed to\nhim almost as though he were their son, who had come home again after\njourneying in a distant land.\n\nIt was only when the knight began to speak of the wood that the\nfisherman grew restless and refused to listen.\n\n'It were wiser, Sir Knight,' he said, 'not to talk of the wood at\nnightfall, or indeed to say much of it at any time.'\n\nAnd then the old couple told their guest how simply they lived in the\nlittle cottage by the lake, and they in their turn listened eagerly\nwhile the knight told them of himself. He was named Sir Huldbrand, and\nhe dwelt in his castle of Ringstetten, which stood near the source of\nthe river Danube.\n\nNow, as he talked or listened to the quiet tales of the old fisherman,\nthe knight heard a strange sound that seemed to come from the\ndirection of the window. Again and again it came, a strange sound as\nof water being dashed against the window-panes.\n\nIt was plain that the fisherman heard it too, for at each splash a\nfrown crossed his good-natured face.\n\nA louder splash, and a shower of water streamed through the loosely\nbuilt window-frame into the kitchen.\n\nThen the old man could sit still no longer. He hastened to the window,\nand opening it called out in an angry voice, 'Undine, cease these\nchildish tricks. A stranger, and he a knight, is in our cottage.'\n\nA low laugh answered him. Hearing it, the old man shut the window and\nsat down again, saying to his guest, 'Sir Knight, forgive this rude\nbehaviour. Undine my foster-daughter is still only a child, although\nshe is now nearly eighteen years of age. Yet her tricks are harmless,\nand she herself is full of kindness.'\n\n'Ah,' said the old woman to her husband, 'to you, who are not with her\nsave when the day's work is over, her pranks may seem harmless. But\nyou would not talk so lightly of her ways were she by your side all\nday. Ever I must watch her, lest she spoil my baking, or undo my\nspinning or burn the soup. Nay--'\n\n'It is true,' said the old man, interrupting his wife with a smile,\n'it is true that you have the maiden by your side throughout the\nlivelong day, while I have but the sea. Yet when the sea is rough and\nbreaks down my dykes I do not love it the less. Even so do you love\nthe little one no less for all her tricks and tiresome ways.'\n\nThe old woman turned to her guest. 'Indeed, Sir Knight, he speaks\ntruly. It is not possible to be angry with the maiden long.'\n\nAt that moment the door flew open, and she, the maiden of whom they\nspoke, entered the little kitchen. She was fairer far than any one the\nknight had ever seen.\n\n'Father,' she cried, 'where is he, the stranger guest?'\n\nEven as she spoke her eyes fell on the knight, who had sprung to his\nfeet as she entered the cottage. He stood gazing in wonder at the\nmarvellous beauty of the maiden.\n\nBut before he could greet her, she was at his side, trustingly looking\nup into his face. Then kneeling before him, she seized his hand and\nmade him seat himself again on the broken old stool.\n\n'You are beautiful, Sir Knight,' she said, 'but how did you come to\nthis little cottage? Have you looked for us long before you could find\nus? Have you had to pass through the terrible forest ere you could\nreach us, Sir Knight?'\n\nThe knight would have told the maiden the story of his adventures in\nthe wood, but Undine's foster-mother was already speaking, and her\ntones were loud and angry.\n\n'Go, maiden, go get you to work, and trouble not the stranger with\nyour questions.'\n\nThen Undine, unashamed, drew a little footstool near to Huldbrand, and\nsitting down to her spinning, cried, 'I shall work here, close to the\nbeautiful knight.'\n\nThe old fisherman took no notice of the wilful maiden, and began to\nspeak of other things, hoping that the guest would forget his\nfoster-daughter's questions.\n\nBut even had the knight been able to forget, Undine did not mean to\nsit there quietly, her questions unanswered.\n\nHer sweet voice broke upon the silence. 'Our beautiful guest has not\nyet told me how he reached our cottage,' she said.\n\n'It is even as you thought,' answered the knight. 'I journeyed through\nthe haunted wood ere I found this safe and hospitable shelter.'\n\n'Then tell me of your wonderful adventures,' demanded the maiden, 'for\nwithout these no one may pass through the forest.'\n\nHuldbrand shuddered as he remembered the strange beings who had\nstartled him as he rode through the wood. He glanced distrustfully\ntoward the window. Were the grim figures there, peering at him through\nthe window-pane? No, he could see nothing save the dim night light,\nwhich now closed them in.\n\nThe knight drew himself up, ashamed of his foolish fears, and turning\ntoward the maiden, he was beginning to tell her of the wonders which\nhad befallen him, when the fisherman hurriedly interrupted.\n\n'Nay, now, Sir Knight,' he cried, 'tell not your tale until the hours\nof dark have passed.'\n\nAt her foster-father's words Undine sprang angrily from the footstool\nand stood before him. Her eyes flashed and grew larger, colder.\n\n'You say to the stranger not to tell his tale, father,' she cried,\n'you say to him not to answer me. But he shall speak, he shall, he\nshall!' And in her anger she stamped her little feet.\n\nThe knight wellnigh smiled as he watched the maiden's wrath, but the\nold man was grieved that the stranger should see the wayward behaviour\nof his foster-child, and he reproved her for her anger. The old woman\nalso muttered her displeasure.\n\nThen Undine slipped quickly toward the door of the little cottage. She\ndid not choose to listen to these rebukes.\n\n'I will not stay with you, for you do nothing but scold me, and you\nwill not do anything that I wish,' she cried, and before they could\nreach her she had opened the door, and was away and out, out into the\ndark night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nUNDINE IS LOST\n\n\nHuldbrand and the fisherman sprang after the maiden, but when they\nreached the door of the cottage and looked out into the night she was\nnowhere to be seen, nor could they catch the sound of her tiny feet to\nguide them whither she had fled.\n\nThe knight looked in astonishment at his host. Was the beautiful\nmaiden only another of the wonderful beings who had bewildered him in\nthe forest? Was she some lovely elf or sprite who had come but to vex\nthem with her pranks?\n\nBut as he looked at the old man standing by his side, and saw the\ntears streaming from his eyes, he knew it was for no spirit of the\nwood that he thus grieved.\n\n'Alas,' sighed the fisherman, 'this is not the first time that the\nmaiden has treated us thus. It may be she will not return the\nlivelong night, and until she returns it is not possible that we\nshould close our eyes. For what terror may not seize upon her as she\nwanders hither and thither in the darkness.'\n\n'We must follow her, father, follow her without delay!' cried the\nyoung knight.\n\n'Nay,' answered the fisherman, 'my limbs are stiff. Though I knew\nwhither she had fled, I could never follow with speed enough to reach\nher. Ever she would vanish as I drew near, for she is fleet, fleet as\nan arrow from the bow.'\n\n'If we may not follow her, at least let us call and entreat her to\nreturn,' said the young knight, and without waiting for an answer he\ncalled, 'Undine! Undine!'\n\nBut the old man shook his head. 'It is useless to call,' he said, 'the\nlittle one will not heed your voice.' Yet still the knight's cry rang\nout into the night, 'Undine, dear Undine, I pray you return!'\n\nNo answer came back from the darkness, and at length Huldbrand\nreturned with the fisherman to the cottage.\n\nThe old woman, who seemed little troubled by Undine's flight, had gone\nto bed and the fire was wellnigh out. But the fisherman, drawing the\nashes together, placed wood on the top of them, and soon the fire\nblazed brightly.\n\nThen in the light of the flames they sat and talked, yet they thought\nonly of Undine. The window rattled. They raised their heads to listen.\nThe rain fell in heavy drops, pitter, patter. They thought it was the\ntread of tiny feet.\n\n'It is she, it is Undine!' they would cry, yet still the maiden did\nnot come. Then they shook their heads sadly, but as they went on\ntalking they listened still.\n\n'It was fifteen years ago, on such a night of wind and rain, that she\ncame,' murmured the old man. 'Our home was sad and desolate, for we\nhad lost our own little child.'\n\n'Ah,' said the knight, 'tell me how the beautiful maiden came to your\nlittle cottage.'\n\nNow this is the story the fisherman told to the knight.\n\n'It is fifteen years ago,' began the old man, 'since I went through\nthe forest, hoping to sell my fish in the city beyond. I was alone,\nfor my wife was at home watching our little babe. Our little babe was\ndear to us and very fair.\n\n'In the evening, having sold all my fish, I went home through the\nhaunted forest, nor did I fear its gloom, for the Lord was at my\nright hand.\n\n'But no sooner had I left the wood than I saw my wife running toward\nme, while tears streamed from her eyes. She had dressed herself, I\nnoticed, in black garments, and this she was not used to do. I felt\nsure that trouble had befallen us.\n\n'\"Where is our child, our little one?\" I cried, though even as I spoke\nmy voice was choked with sobs.\n\n'\"Our child is with God, the great Father,\" answered my wife.\n\n'Then in the midst of her tears the poor mother told her sad tale.\n\n'\"I took our child down to the edge of the lake, and there we played\ntogether, so happy, so merry. Suddenly the little one bent forward as\nthough she saw something beautiful in the water. Then she smiled, and\nstretched out her tiny hands, and even as she did so, she slipped from\nmy arms into the lake, and I saw her no more.\"\n\n'That evening,' said the fisherman, 'my wife and I sat by our hearth\nin silence, we were too sad for words. Suddenly the door of our\ncottage flew open, and there before us,[1] on the threshold, stood a\nlittle maiden, three or four years of age. Her eyes were blue and her\nhair was gold and she was clothed in beautiful garments.\n\n[Footnote 1: See frontispiece.]\n\n'We gazed in wonder at the tiny vision. Who was she? From whence had\nshe come? Was she only a magic child come to mock us in our\nloneliness, or was she a real, a living child?\n\n'Then as we looked we saw that water trickled from her golden hair and\nthat little streams were gathering at her tiny feet, as the water\ndripped and dripped from her beautiful clothing.\n\n'\"She must have fallen into the lake,\" I said to my wife, \"and in some\nstrange way have wandered into our cottage. We have lost our own dear\nchild, let us now do all we can to help this little one.\" Thus it came\nto pass that the little stranger slept in the cot in which until now\nour own babe had lain.\n\n'When morning dawned my wife fed our tiny guest with bread and milk,\nand the little one looked upon us, and her blue eyes danced merrily,\nbut never a word did she say.\n\n'We asked her where her father and mother dwelt and how she had come\nto our cottage. But her only answer was some childish talk of crystal\npalaces and shining pearls. Even now indeed she speaks of things so\nmarvellous that we know not what to think.\n\n'After some days we asked her once again from whence she came. She\ntold us that she had been on the sea with her mother, and had fallen\nfrom her arms into the water, nor had she known more until she awoke\nunder the trees, close to our cottage, so well pleased with the fair\nshore that she felt no fear.\n\n'Then we said, \"Let us keep the little stranger, and care for her as\nwe would have cared for our own lost child.\" We sent for a priest, who\nbaptized her, giving her the name by which she called herself, though\nindeed it seemed no name for a Christian child.\n\n'\"Undine,\" said the priest as he performed the holy rite, while she,\nthe little one, stood before him gentle and sweet. No sooner, however,\nwas the service ended than she grew wild, wilful as was her way. For\nit is true that my wife has had much trouble with the maiden--'\n\nAt that moment the knight interrupted the fisherman.\n\n'Listen,' he cried, 'how the stream roars as it dashes past the\nwindow!'\n\nTogether they sprang to the door. The moon had risen, and the knight\nand the fisherman saw that the stream which ran from the wood had\nburst its banks. It was now rushing wildly along, carrying with it\nstones and roots of trees. As they looked, the clouds grew dark and\ncrept across the face of the moon, the wind rose and lashed the water\nof the lake into great waves.\n\n'Undine! Undine!' cried the two men together, but no answer reached\nthem save the shrieking of the wind among the trees of the forest.\n\nThen, careless of the storm, the fisherman and the knight rushed from\nthe cottage in search of the maiden.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nUNDINE IS FOUND\n\n\nAs Huldbrand rushed out into the night, followed by the fisherman, the\nstorm seemed to rage yet more fiercely. The old man was soon left far\nbehind in the search for the lost maiden.\n\nThe knight, battling bravely with the storm, hastened hither and\nthither, but all his efforts were vain. Undine was nowhere to be\nfound.\n\nAnd now, as the rain dashed down upon him and the wind hustled him,\nHuldbrand grew bewildered. The storm seemed to have changed the\npeaceful meadows into a weary wilderness, and even the maiden herself\nseemed to flit before him as a phantom spirit of the wind.\n\nCould it all have been but a dream? Had the cottage, the fisherman and\nhis wife been as unreal as the figures that had followed him in the\nhaunted forest? No, that he would not believe, for even yet in the\ndistance he could hear the faint echo of the fisherman's voice as he\ncalled out pitifully, 'Undine! Undine!' Now in his search the knight\nhad reached the edge of the stream. The stream, as you know, had\nalready overflowed its bank, and as the moon suddenly shone through\nthe dark clouds, Huldbrand saw that the water was rushing back toward\nthe forest. In this way the little bit of meadow-land on which the\nfisherman's cottage stood was turned into an island.\n\nA terrible thought struck the knight. Had Undine strayed into the\nfearful forest she could not now return to the cottage, save across\nthe raging stream, nay, she might even now be surrounded by the\nspirits of the wood. She would be among them alone, helpless.\n\nAt once Huldbrand made up his mind to cross the torrent. He plunged\ninto the water, and even as he did so he seemed to see on the other\nshore the figure of a tall white man, who nodded his head and mocked\nhim as he struggled on. Huldbrand knew the tall white figure only too\nwell. It was the one that had followed him as he journeyed through the\nforest.\n\nNow; in his haste to find Undine, the knight was leaping from stone to\nstone, sometimes slipping into the water, then with a struggle\nplacing his feet once again upon the stones. These, tossed by the\nrushing stream, gave no firm foothold to the knight, and he was forced\nto seize the branch of a fir-tree to help him across the dangerous\npassage.\n\nWhile he was still in the midst of the current, he heard a sweet voice\ncrying, 'Trust not the stream, trust it not, for it is full of craft!'\n\nThe knight knew the voice. It was that of the maiden for whom he\nsought. Yet though he peered eagerly through the gloom he could see no\ntrace of her.\n\n'See! you can find me now, Sir Knight, for the moon is shining clear,'\ncried the voice he longed to hear, and looking around him Huldbrand\nsaw where Undine had found a shelter. It was on a little island,\nbeneath the branches of a great tree, that the maiden sat. There was\nno terror of the storm in her eyes. She was even smiling happily as\nshe nestled amid the sweet scented grass, safe from the fury of the\nstorm.\n\nA few quick strides and the knight had crossed the stream and stood by\nthe side of the maiden. She bade him sit down on the grass, and then,\nwhispering low, she said, 'You shall tell me your story here, Sir\nKnight, on this quiet island here, where no cross old people will\ndisturb us, and where we are sheltered from the storm that rages\nbeyond.'\n\n[Illustration: Amid the sweet-scented grass, safe from the fury of the\nstorm]\n\nThen Huldbrand forgot all about the old man who was still seeking for\nhis child, forgot too all about the old woman who was alone in the\nlittle cottage by the lake, and he sat down to tell his tale as the\nmaiden wished.\n\nMeanwhile the fisherman had reached the brink of the stream, and great\nwas his surprise to see the knight seated by the side of his lost\nchild.\n\n'You have found her, you have found my little one!' he cried\nreproachfully. 'Why did you not hasten to tell me she was found, Sir\nKnight?'\n\nThen Huldbrand was ashamed, though, as he told the old man, it was but\na little while since his search had ceased.\n\n'Bring her without more delay to the mainland!' shouted the fisherman,\nwhen he had listened to the sorry excuse which was all the knight\ncould offer.\n\nBut Undine had no wish to go home. She would rather stay with the\nknight in the forest than go back to the cottage, for there, so she\nsaid, no one would do as she wished.\n\nThen, flinging her arms around the knight, she clung to him and\nbegged him to stay with her in the forest.\n\nThe old fisherman wept as he heard her words, yet Undine did not seem\nto notice his tears. But the knight could not help seeing the old\nman's grief, and he was troubled.\n\n'Undine,' he cried, 'the tears of your foster-father have touched my\nheart. We will return to him.'\n\nThe blue eyes of the maiden opened wide with surprise, yet she\nanswered gently, 'Sir Knight, if this is indeed your will, we shall\nreturn to the mainland. There you must make the old man promise to\nlisten in silence to all that you saw as you journeyed through the\nforest.'\n\n'Only come, and you shall do all that you wish!' cried the fisherman,\nand he stretched out his arms and nodded his head, to show to the\nmaiden how glad he was that she should do as she wished. But the\nknight shuddered as his eyes fell upon the fisherman. The nodding\nhead, the white hair reminded him once again of the tall white man of\nthe forest.\n\nShaking off his fears he lifted Undine in his arms and bore her across\nthe stream. Already the storm was wellnigh over and the waters flowed\nmore quietly. It now seemed to the knight only a few steps from the\ngrassy plot where he had found the maiden to the green meadows among\nwhich the cottage stood.\n\n'Now will I hear the brave knight's story,' cried the maiden, and the\nold people smiled and said they too would hear the tale.\n\nAnd the sun rose slowly over the lake and the birds sang merrily on\nthe wet and leafy trees, as the knight began his tale.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE KNIGHT'S STORY\n\n\n'It must be about eight days ago now,' said the knight, 'since I left\nmy castle of Ringstetten, and journeyed toward the city which lies\nbeyond the haunted forest.\n\n'The city was gay with lords and ladies who had come thither for the\ntournament which was then being held.\n\n'I at once entered the lists, for my steed was strong and I myself was\neager for the fray. Once, as I rested from the combat, my eyes fell\nupon a lady who was wondrous fair. She was looking down from a gallery\nupon the tournament.\n\n'Bertalda was the name of the beautiful maiden, and she was the\nfoster-child of a great duke. I knew that, as I again seized my lance,\nthe lady's eyes followed me into the lists, and I fought even more\nbravely than before.\n\n'In the evening a great festival was held, and here I met Bertalda,\nand danced with her; indeed, evening after evening we were together\nuntil the tournament drew to a close.'\n\nAs Huldbrand spoke these words he felt a sharp pain in his left hand.\nIt was hanging by his side, and as he looked down to see what had\ncaused the pain, he found that Undine had fastened in it her little\npearly teeth.\n\nThe knight could see that the maiden's face was no longer smiling. She\nlooked up at him, and there was sorrow in her large blue eyes as she\nwhispered, 'Sir Knight, it is your own fault that I hurt you. I would\nnot have you praise the lady Bertalda.' Then quickly, as though\nashamed of her words, she hid her face in her hands.\n\nAs the knight went on with his story, his face was grave.\n\n'It is true,' he said, 'that Bertalda was a lovely maiden, yet as I\nknew her better I found her ways were cold and proud. She pleased me\nless as the days passed by, though, as she looked upon me with favour,\nI begged that as a token of it she would give me a glove.\n\n\"You shall have it,\" answered she, \"if you will go alone through the\nforest which men say is haunted, and bring me tidings of all that\nhappens to you.\"\n\n'I cared little for her glove, but I would not tarry to be asked a\nsecond time to go through the forest, lest the maiden should doubt my\ncourage.'\n\n'I thought Bertalda had loved you,' cried Undine, 'yet then had she\nnot driven you from her into the haunted forest.'\n\nThe knight smiled at the maiden's words and went on with his tale.\n\n'It was but yesterday morning that I set forth on my adventure. The\nsun shone bright, so bright that it was not easy to believe that evil\nwas lurking in the shadows beneath the rustling leaves. \"I shall soon\nreturn,\" I said to myself, as I plunged into the green shade.\n\n'But amid the maze of trees it was not long ere I lost sight of the\npath by which I had entered the wood.\n\n'\"It may be that I shall lose myself in this mighty forest,\" I\nthought, \"but no other danger threatens me.\"\n\n'I gazed up toward the sun, which had risen higher now than when first\nI entered the wood, and as I gazed I saw a black thing among the\nbranches of a leafy oak.\n\n'Was it a bear, I wondered, and my hand felt for the sword that hung\nby my side.\n\n'But it was no bear, for ere long I heard a voice mocking me with\nrough and cruel words. \"Aha, Sir Wiseacre,\" said the voice, \"I am\nbreaking twigs off these tall trees, so that at midnight I may light a\nfire in which to roast you.\" Then, before I could answer, the black\nthing grinned at me and rustled the branches, until my steed grew\nrestless and at length galloped away.'\n\nUndine looked at the knight, her blue eyes sparkling as she cried,\n'But indeed the wicked creature did not dare to roast you, Sir\nKnight!'\n\n'In its terror,' continued Huldbrand, 'my horse dashed itself against\nthe trees, reared and again rushed madly forward. Onward we flew,\nuntil at length I saw before me a dark abyss. Yet still I found it\nimpossible to pull up my frightened steed.\n\n'Then all at once a tall white man stood still directly in front of my\nmaddened horse, which swerved aside as soon as it saw the tall man,\nand in that moment I was once more master of my steed. I saw also that\nmy deliverer was not a tall white man, as I had imagined, but a brook,\nwhich shone silver in the sunlight.'\n\n'Dear brook, I will be grateful to you for evermore,' cried Undine,\nclapping her hands as she spoke, in childish glee. But the fisherman\nshook his head and was silent.\n\n'And now,' said the knight, 'I was anxious to hasten as quickly as\npossible through the forest, for it seemed to me that not only might I\nfind it difficult to regain the pathway I had lost, but that strange\nbeings might again startle both me and my noble steed.\n\n'I turned my horse away from the dark chasm which lay before us, but\neven as I did so I found at my side a strange little man. He was\nuglier than any one I had ever seen. His nose was wellnigh as large as\nall the rest of his body, and his mouth was so big that it stretched\nfrom one ear to the other.\n\n'This ugly creature, as soon as he saw that I had noticed him, grinned\nat me, until his mouth looked even larger than before. He scraped his\nfeet along the ground and bowed mockingly to me a thousand times.\n\n'My horse was trembling at the sight of the strange figure, so I\nresolved to ride on in search of further adventure, or if I found\nnone, to ride back to the city which I had left in the morning.\n\n'But the ugly little man did not mean to let me escape. Quick as\nlightning he sprang round and stood again in front of my horse.\n\n'\"Get out of the way,\" I now cried in anger, \"lest my steed tramples\nyou under its feet.\"\n\n'This did not seem to frighten the strange creature. He laughed in my\nface, and then said in a gruff voice, \"You must give me gold, for it\nwas I who turned your horse aside from yonder dark abyss.\"\n\n'\"Nay, what you say is not true,\" I answered him, \"for it was the\nsilver brook that saved me and my horse from being dashed to pieces.\nNevertheless, take thy gold and begone.\"\n\n'As I spoke I flung a coin into the strange-shaped cap which he was\nholding before me, then putting spurs to my horse I rode quickly\nforward.\n\n'I heard the ugly little man give a loud scream, then to my surprise\nthere he was, running by my side, grinning and making horrible\ngrimaces.\n\n'My horse was galloping, and I thought I would soon get away from the\nlittle man. But it seemed impossible to go faster than he, for he took\na spring, a jump, and there he was still by my side. He held up the\npiece of gold I had thrown to him, and in a hollow voice he cried, \"It\nis a false coin, a false coin!\"\n\n'At length I could bear his horrible shrieks no longer. I pulled up my\nsteed, and holding out two coins I called to him, \"Take the gold, but\nfollow me no farther!\"\n\n'Then the little ugly man began to scrape his feet and bow his head,\nbut it was plain that he was not yet satisfied.\n\n'\"I do not wish your gold,\" he grumbled. \"I have gold enough and to\nspare, as you shall soon see.\"\n\n'As he spoke a strange thing happened. The beautiful green ground\nseemed to change into clear green glass. I looked through the glass\nand saw in a great cavern a group of little goblins.\n\n'They were playing at ball, these little goblins, and I noticed that\nall their toys were made of silver or gold. Merry little creatures\nthey were, running swiftly hither and thither after the ball, nor was\nit easy to see whether they were standing on their heads or on their\nheels, or whether they were running on their hands or on their feet.\nNo sooner was their game ended than they pelted each other with their\nplaythings, then in a mad frolic lifted handfuls of gold dust and\nflung it each in the other's eyes.\n\n'All this time the ugly little man was standing half on the ground and\nhalf within the great cavern where the tiny goblins played their\ngames. Now I heard him call to the mischievous imps to give him\nhandfuls of gold.\n\n[Illustration: 'I saw in a great cavern a group of little goblins']\n\n'This they did, and then he, laughing in my face, showed the gold to\nme ere he flung it back again into the cavern.\n\n'Then the ugly little man called to the tiny goblins to stop their\npranks and look at the coins I had given to him. When they caught\nsight of them they held their little sides, shaking with laughter;\nthen all at once they turned and hissed at me.\n\n'In spite of myself terror crept over me. Again I plunged my spurs\ninto my horse's sides, and it dashed madly off into the midst of the\nforest.\n\n'When at length the flight ended, the evening lay cool and quiet\naround me. A white footpath seemed to point out the way which led back\nto the city. But each time I tried to approach it a face peered at me\nfrom between the trees. I turned to escape from this new phantom, but\nin vain, for whichever way I turned there was the face still staring\nat me.\n\n'I grew angry and urged my horse in the direction of the shadowy face,\nonly however to find myself drenched by a stream of white foam.\n\n'Thus I was driven away from the white footpath, and only one way,\nrough and tangled, was left open to me. As soon as I began to follow\nit, the face, though it kept close behind, did me no further harm.\n\n'Yet again and again I turned, hoping to find that the face had\ndisappeared. Instead I found it closer than before, and now I could\nsee that it belonged to a tall white man. It was true that at times\nthe long white figure seemed to be but a wandering stream, but of this\nI was never sure.\n\nI was weary now and my horse was exhausted. It seemed useless to try\nany longer to force my way past the white face, so I went on riding\nquietly along the one path left open to me. The head of the tall man\nthen began to nod, as though to say that at length I was doing as he\nwished.\n\n'By this path I reached the end of the wood, and as the meadows and\nthe lake came into sight the white man vanished, and I found myself\nstanding near to your little cottage.'\n\nAs the knight had now finished the story of his adventure, the\nfisherman began to talk to his guest of how he might return in safety\nto the city and to the followers who there awaited him.\n\nHuldbrand, listening to the old man, yet caught the soft ripple of\nUndine's laughter.\n\n'Why do you laugh, Undine?' asked the knight. 'Are you so pleased to\nhear your foster-father talk of my return to the city?'\n\n'I laugh for joy that you cannot leave us,' said the maiden. 'You have\nbut to look to see that you must stay.'\n\nHuldbrand and the fisherman rose and saw that what the maiden had said\nwas indeed true. It would not be possible for the knight to leave the\nlittle island until the stream had once more returned to its usual\ncourse.\n\nAs they entered the cottage, Huldbrand whispered to the maiden,\n'Undine, tell me that you are glad that I cannot yet return to the\ncrowded city.'\n\nBut the maiden's face was no longer glad, nor would she answer the\nknight's question. She had remembered Bertalda.\n\nWhen the stream had grown quiet the knight would go back to the lady\nfor whose sake he had undergone such strange perils. And of that time\nthe wilful maiden did not wish to think.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE KNIGHT STAYS AT THE COTTAGE\n\n\nDay after day the forest stream rushed wildly on. The bed along which\nit thus hastened grew wider and wider, separating the island with the\nfisherman's cottage yet farther from the mainland.\n\nThe knight was well pleased to linger where he was. Never had he found\nthe days pass by so swiftly.\n\nHe discovered an old crossbow in a corner of the cottage. When he had\nmended it he would wander forth in search of birds, and if he\nsucceeded in bringing some down with his arrows, he would carry them\nback to fill the larder of the little cottage.\n\nAnd Undine, for she was pitiful, would not fail to upbraid the knight\nfor taking the life of the little birds, so glad, so free. Seeing them\nlying there, quiet and still, she would weep.\n\nYet, did Huldbrand return without his prey, so wilful was the maiden\nthat she would blame him, and complain that she could now have nought\nto eat save fish or crabs.\n\nBut the knight loved Undine's wayward words. And well he knew that\nafter she had shown her anger most, she would in but a little while be\nagain kind and gentle as before.\n\nOn the quiet island Huldbrand heard no call to knightly deeds. His\nsword hung unused on the cottage wall, his steed fed undisturbed among\nthe sweet-scented meadows.\n\n'The maiden is the daughter of a great prince, thought the knight. 'It\nis not possible that she should remain in this humble cottage all her\nlife. She shall be my bride, and in days to come she shall dwell in my\ncastle of Ringstetten on the banks of the Danube.'\n\nMeanwhile, naught disturbed the dwellers in the little cottage, save\nnow and again when her foster-mother would chide Undine in the\npresence of the knight.\n\nNow, though this displeased Huldbrand, he could not blame the old\nwoman, for it was ever true that the maiden deserved reproof more\noften than she received it.\n\nAt length wine and food began to grow scarce in the little cottage.\nIn the evening, when the wind howled around their home, the fisherman\nand the knight had been used to cheer themselves with a flask of wine.\nBut now that the fisherman was not able to reach the city, his supply\nof wine had come to an end. Without it the old man and the knight grew\nsilent and dull.\n\nUndine teased them, laughed at them, but they did not join in her\nmerriment.\n\nThen one evening the maiden left the cottage, to escape, so she said,\nfrom the gloomy faces in the little kitchen. It was a stormy night,\nand as it grew dark the wind began to blow, the waters to rise.\nHuldbrand and the fisherman thought of the terrible night on which\nthey had sought so long in vain for the wilful maiden. They even began\nto fear that they had lost her again, and together they rushed to the\ndoor. But to their great delight Undine was standing there, laughing\nand clapping her little hands.\n\n'Come with me,' she cried when she saw them, 'come with me and I will\nshow you a cask which the stream has thrown ashore. If it is not a\nwine cask you may punish me as you will.'\n\nThe men went with her, and there in a little creek they found the\ncask and began to roll it toward the cottage.\n\nBut though they rolled it rapidly the storm crept quickly up. So black\nwere the clouds, so threatening, that it seemed each moment that the\nrain would burst forth upon them.\n\nUndine helped the men to roll the cask, and as the sky grew yet more\nthreatening she looked up at the dark clouds and said in a warning\nvoice, 'Beware, beware that you wet us not.'\n\n'It is wrong of you thus to try to rebuke the storm,' said her\nfoster-father, but at his words the maiden only laughed low to herself\nin the darkness.\n\nIt would seem, however, that Undine's warning had been of use, for it\nwas not until the cask was rolled in at the cottage door that the\nstorm broke.\n\nBy the bright glow of the fire they opened the cask and found that it\ndid indeed hold wine. They tasted it and found it very good, and soon\nthey were once more as gay as the maiden could wish.\n\nThen suddenly the fisherman grew grave, grieving for him who had lost\nthe cask.\n\n'Nay, grieve not,' said the knight, 'I will seek for the owner and\nrepay him for his loss when I come again to my castle at\nRingstetten.'\n\nThe fisherman smiled and was content.\n\nUndine, however, was angry with the knight. 'It is foolish,' said she,\n'to talk of seeking for the owner of the cask. Were you lost in the\nsearch I should weep. Would you not rather stay by my side?'\n\n'Yes, and that do you right well know,' answered the knight.\n\n'Then,' said the maiden, 'why should you speak of helping other\npeople. It is but foolish talk.'\n\nThe foster-mother sighed as she listened to Undine's careless words,\nwhile the fisherman forgot his usual quiet and scolded her sharply.\n\n'Your words are wild, and are such as no Christian maiden should\nutter,' he said. 'May God forgive both you and those who have allowed\nyou thus to speak.'\n\n'It is indeed true,' said Undine, 'that as I think I speak. Why,\ntherefore, should you scold me for my words.'\n\n'Say no more,' said the fisherman, for he was very angry.\n\nThen the maiden, who, for all her wilfulness, was timid as a bird,\ndrew close to the knight and whispered, 'Are you also angry with me,\nSir Knight.'\n\nHuldbrand could find no words with which to comfort the maiden, whom\nhe had learned to love. He could only hold her hand and stroke her\ngolden hair, but with this Undine was well content.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE WEDDING\n\n\nNow it was on this same night on which the cask was found that, as the\nstorm still raged, a knock was heard at the cottage door. It startled\nall within, for who was there could have crossed the stream that now\nseparated them from the mainland? It could surely be no mortal who\nstood without.\n\nAs the inhabitants of the little cottage sat silent, thinking these\nthoughts, the knock was heard again. It was followed by a low groan.\nThen the knight rose and took his sword from the wall where it had\nhung for many days. But the fisherman, watching him, shook his head as\nhe muttered, 'A sword will be of but little use to-night.'\n\nUndine meanwhile had gone toward the door. She did not open it, but\nshe called out in a loud voice, 'Remember, whoever you be, spirit of\nearth or fire, that if harm befall us my uncle Kuehleborn will punish\nyou.'\n\nThese strange words made the knight marvel. But a voice answered the\nmaiden, 'I am no wandering spirit, but an old frail man. For the love\nof God open your door and give me shelter from the storm.'\n\nAt these words Undine, holding a lamp high in one hand, flung the door\nwide open with the other. Before her stood an old priest, who looked\nupon her with surprise. How came so fair a maiden to be dwelling in so\nlonely a home? he wondered, and in his bewilderment he stood still\noutside the shelter and warmth which awaited him.\n\n'Will you not enter, holy Father?' said Undine.\n\nThe priest roused himself to thank the beautiful maiden, and then\nentered the kitchen. Water flowed from his long robe and trickled from\nhis long white beard and snowy locks.\n\n'Come with me, Father,' said the fisherman, and he drew the priest\ninto a little room and made him take off all his wet garments. Then,\nclad in a suit of dry clothes which belonged to his host, the priest\nreturned to the kitchen.\n\nThe old woman pulled forward her own armchair and made the priest sit\nin it, while Undine brought a little stool and put it beneath the feet\nof the stranger.\n\nMeanwhile food was placed before the priest. When he had eaten he was\nrefreshed and able to tell his host how he had reached the island.\n\n'It was but yesterday,' he said, 'that I was sailing across the lake,\nwhen a sudden storm arose. A wave dashed upon my boat, overturning it\nand throwing me on to the shore. I lay there stunned for some time.\nThen, as I slowly recovered my senses, I saw a footpath before me, and\nfollowing it I reached the shelter of your cottage.'\n\nThen the fisherman said to the priest, 'Unless the stream subsides we\nshall, I fear, be in need of food. For days I have found it wellnigh\nimpossible to fish in the lake, and even should I be able to do so I\ncould not sell my fish. It would be too hard a task to reach the city\nbeyond the wood until the stream once more runs quietly between its\nbanks.'\n\nTo Huldbrand as he listened it mattered not though the stream rushed\non for ever. The world beyond the wood was becoming to the knight more\nand more as a dream. Also the little island on which he was living\nseemed to him the most beautiful spot on earth, for on it dwelt the\nmaiden he loved so well.\n\nAs these thoughts passed through the knight's mind he turned, and saw\nat once that Undine must have annoyed her foster-mother, for the old\nwoman was casting angry looks upon the maiden. Perhaps the angry looks\nwould be followed by harsh words, as had happened on other days.\n\nQuickly the knight made up his mind. Were Undine but his wife, no one\nwould venture to reprove her. The priest was in the cottage. Why\nshould he not marry the beautiful maiden without delay?\n\nHe spoke a few words to Undine, then drawing her gently toward the\npriest he said, 'Father, you see before you the maiden whom I love,\nwhom, if her foster-parents are willing, I would wed this very day.'\n\nThe priest turned to the fisherman and his wife. 'You hear the words\nof the noble knight,' he said. 'Are you willing that he should wed the\nmaiden?'\n\nIt was easy to see that the old people were in no way startled by the\npriest's words.\n\n'To no braver or more courteous knight could we give our\nfoster-child,' said the fisherman, and his wife smiled and nodded as\nhe spoke.\n\nThen the foster-mother brought two candles, which long years before\nhad been blessed by a holy man, and placed them on the kitchen table,\nwhile the knight, unfastening the chain which hung around his neck,\nbegan to take off it two golden rings, one for Undine, the other for\nhimself.\n\n'Ah, do not so,' cried the maiden. 'Touch not the golden chain.\nBelieve me, my parents, could they know, would wish us to use the\nrings they entrusted to my care when I was but a child.'\n\nShe ran quickly from the room, and when she came back she held in her\nhand two radiant rings, one of which she gave to the knight, while the\nother she kept for herself.\n\nHer foster-parents looked at Undine in surprise, for they had neither\nseen the rings nor known that their foster-child had any jewels in her\npossession.\n\nThen the maiden, seeing their astonishment, told how her parents had\nstitched the rings into the little garments she had worn when first\nshe came to them, a tiny child. 'They bid me also tell no one that\nthey had given me these precious gems until the evening of my\nwedding-day.'\n\nMeanwhile the priest had clad himself again in his own garments, and\nlighting the candles, he called to Huldbrand and the maiden to come\nand kneel before him.\n\n[Illustration: In the little cottage were heard the solemn words of\nthe marriage service]\n\nGladly they obeyed, and then in the little cottage were heard the\nsolemn words of the marriage service, and Undine became the wife of\nHuldbrand, the knight of Ringstetten.\n\nThe maiden had been unusually quiet as she listened to the solemn\nwords of the marriage service, but now a spirit of mischief seemed to\nseize her. She laughed and danced, she played childish tricks upon her\nhusband, her foster-parents, even upon the priest himself.\n\nHer foster-mother would have rebuked Undine as of old, but the knight\nsilenced her, for Undine was now his wife. Yet he himself was little\npleased with her behaviour. When Undine saw a frown upon his brow, it\nis true that she would grow quieter, and sitting near him, would for a\nlittle while smooth his brow with her soft white hand. Soon, however,\na new fancy would take hold of her, she would jump up, and her tricks\nwould grow even more vexing than before.\n\nThen the priest spoke, and his voice was grave.\n\n'Lady, you are fair to look on, but I pray you to cease these foolish\nways, lest your soul become less beautiful than your face.'\n\nUndine's laughter ceased. After a while she looked at the priest and\nasked in a timid whisper, 'What is this thing which you call a soul,\nholy Father?'\n\nOver the little kitchen a hush fell as the holy man answered, 'How can\nI tell you what this strange thing which we call our soul really is?\nYet can I tell you why God gives us this great gift. It is that we may\nlearn to know and love Him. Our bodies will grow old, and we will lay\nthem aside as a garment which we no longer need, while our souls will\nlive and dwell with Him for ever.'\n\nUndine's eyes grew sad, tears streamed down her cheek. 'Ah,' she\nsobbed, 'I have no soul, no soul. I think it would hurt me to have a\nsoul, yet fain would I have one.'\n\nThen, with one of those quick changes which had at times startled her\nfoster-parents, she dried her tears, and ran quickly to the window.\nShe looked out into the night. It seemed to call her forth to a\ncareless, thoughtless life. Why should she stay when the wind\nwhispered to her and the waters brought her messages from the depths\nof the sea?\n\n'Ah no, I will have no soul!' cried Undine, turning once more toward\nthe priest. 'I must be free, free as the breezes and the dancing\nwaters.'\n\n'Your love for me will change and grow cold,' said the knight sadly,\n'unless you have a human soul. For none can love truly without this\nprecious gift.'\n\nYet even as he spoke Huldbrand was trying to stifle a fear that had\nbegun to creep into his heart, a fear that the maiden he had wedded\nwas a fairy or a mocking spirit from another world.\n\nBut his beautiful wife was smiling softly, for as he had spoken his\nlast words she had learned a secret. And as the knight looked into her\nblue love-lit eyes he too learned the secret. Through love Undine had\nwon a soul, which is indeed the gift of God to every mortal.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nUNDINE'S STORY\n\n\nUndine lost her wilful ways on her wedding-day.\n\nHer foster-parents watched her, bewildered, so gentle was she, so\nthoughtful. She, who had but seldom flung her arms around them,\nembraced them now, and thanked them with tears in her eyes for all\ntheir care. Nor would she let them go, until she saw that the old\nwoman wished to prepare breakfast.\n\nThen she herself flew to the hearth, and making her foster-mother\nrest, she swept and dusted, and prepared the meal. It was strange that\nshe had never thought of doing this before.\n\nAnd those who dwelt with her, as they watched her grow so gracious, so\ngentle, learned to love her even more than in the days when she had\nbeen wild and wilful.\n\nOne evening Undine, with Huldbrand by her side, wandered along the\nbank of the forest stream.\n\nThe knight marvelled that the waters had suddenly grown peaceful, and\nthat now again they were gliding quietly along their usual course.\n\n'To-morrow,' said his fair wife sorrowfully, 'to-morrow you can ride\nforth where you will.'\n\n'But,' said Huldbrand, 'you know well that if I go I will not leave\nyou behind.'\n\n'I do not think you will leave me, Huldbrand. Yet carry me across to\nyonder little island, for there I will tell to you the story of the\nmaiden you have made your wife. It may be that when you have heard it,\nyou will ride away alone into the wide world.'\n\nThen silently the knight carried her, as she wished, across the stream\nto the tiny island, and laid her down on the green grass. It was on\nthis very spot that he had found her on the night of the terrible\nstorm.\n\n'Sit there, where I can look into your eyes as I tell my tale,' said\nhis wife, 'for as I look I shall be able to see what you are thinking,\nnor will there be any need for you to tell me.'\n\n'In the world,' said Undine, 'there are many beings whom mortals\nseldom see, for should these beings hear a mortal drawing near, they\nquickly hide themselves. These beings of whom I tell you are spirits\nthat dwell in fire, earth, air and water.\n\n'Those who dwell in the flames are called salamanders, nor do these\nspirits wish for any other home, as they play merrily and fearlessly\namong the sparkling fires.\n\n'Deep under the earth live the gnomes, rough and fearsome spirits\nthey, full of malice too, should any mortal cross their path.\n\n'In lofty forests dwell more fair and joyous spirits, guarding each\nsome well-loved spot from a mortal's heavy tread.\n\n'And better known and better loved than these of whom I have told you\nare the spirits who haunt the waters. These have their home in sea or\nlake, in river or in little brook.\n\n'Deep down under the blue waters, hidden from mortal eyes, are the\npalaces of the water spirits. Their walls are built of crystal and are\nhung with coral, their floors are paved with shining pearls.\n\n'Deep down under the blue waters are yellow sands. There the merry\nlittle water-spirits play their games and gambol all the glad long\ndays, until they leave their childhood far behind.\n\n'Pure and fair, more fair even than the race of mortals are the\nspirits of the water. Fishermen have chanced to see these water-nymphs\nor mermaidens, and they have spoken of their wondrous beauty. Mortals\ntoo have named these strange women Undines. Look upon me, Huldbrand,\nlook long and well, for I, your wife, am an Undine!'\n\nThe knight gazed sadly upon his beautiful wife. He wished to believe\nthat she was but weaving fairy tales with which to charm him through\nthe quiet eventide, yet as he gazed upon her he shuddered lest the\ntale she told was true.\n\nUndine saw that he shuddered, and tears sprang into her blue eyes as\nshe went on with her story.\n\n'When I was a child I lived in the depths of the sea. My father's\ncrystal palace was my home, for he, my father, is the Lord of the\nOcean. Kuehleborn is my uncle. He used to watch me with his big eyes\nuntil I grew afraid, and even now, although I live above the waters,\nhe comes to me and ofttimes he frightens me as though I were again a\nlittle child.\n\n'Brothers and cousins, too, were mine and played with me on the yellow\nsands beneath the blue sea.\n\n'Merry were our lives and free, for the sorrows of mortals came not\nnear to us. We had no soul, the gift God gives to every mortal, and\nwithout a soul no pain could enter into our lives.\n\n'Yet my father, the King of the Ocean, longed that I, his only\ndaughter, should gain the great gift which is given to every mortal.\nAnd this he wished, though well he knew that to mortals was given,\nwith the gift of a soul, the power to suffer.\n\n'An Undine can gain a soul in one way alone. She must love and be\nloved by one of mortal birth.\n\n'You, Huldbrand, you have given me my soul, and should you now despise\nme or drive me from you, I should suffer even as one of your own race.\n\n'Yet if you care not to have an Undine for your wife, leave me, and I\nwill plunge into the waters. Then Kuehleborn, my uncle, who brought me\na merry happy child to the fisherman, will come and carry me back to\nmy ocean home. There will I live, loving, sorrowing, for into the\ndepths of the blue sea will I carry my new-won soul.'\n\nThen Huldbrand forgot everything save the great love he bore his fair\nwife Undine. He took her in his arms and carried her across the\nlittle stream, whispering to her that she should never leave him.\n\nTogether they went back to the cottage, and to the water-maiden the\nlittle dwelling gleamed more bright than the crystal palace of the\nOcean King.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nHULDBRAND AND UNDINE LEAVE THE COTTAGE\n\n\nThe following day Undine was up and out early in the morning, to see\nif the forest stream was still flowing quietly within its banks. Now\nthe forest stream was the one haunted by her uncle Kuehleborn, and\noften he would use the waters for his own purposes. Sometimes\nKuehleborn's purposes were kind, sometimes they were unkind.\n\nUndine was, in the cottage again, preparing the morning meal, when\nHuldbrand entered the kitchen. She greeted him brightly.\n\n'My uncle Kuehleborn has made the waters calm,' she cried. 'The stream\nis gliding peaceful as of old through the forest. Neither in air nor\nwater are there spirits to molest us. Should you wish it, you can\njourney homeward to-day.'\n\nHuldbrand did not like to hear Undine speak of her strange kinsfolk,\nyet so gentle was she, so full of grace, that he soon forgot his\nvexation.\n\nTogether the knight and his wife went to the door of the cottage, and\nlooked out at the meadows and the lake lying in the morning sunshine.\n\n'Why should we leave this quiet spot to-day?' said Huldbrand, for well\nhe loved the island where he had found his beautiful bride. 'In the\ngreat world we will spend no gladder days than in this simple\nmeadow-land. Let us, then, yet linger here for a few days.'\n\n'It shall be as you wish,' answered Undine. 'Yet will my\nfoster-parents grieve the more when I leave them, should they learn\nthat I have now a soul. To-day they only marvel that I am kind and\nthoughtful, thinking that to-morrow I will once again be wild and\ncareless as of old. But should I dwell here much longer they will know\nthat never in the days to come will I be thoughtless as in former\ndays. For I cannot hide my new gift. They will hear it in my voice,\nthey will feel it in my touch, they will see it in my eyes. And having\nknown that now, at length, I could love them well, they would grieve\nto lose me.'\n\n'We will leave to-day, this very hour,' said the knight, so pleased\nwas he with Undine's new care for her kind old foster-parents.\n\nThe priest who had found shelter in the cottage was also ready to\nreturn to his monastery. He would journey with the knight and his lady\nuntil they were safe from the perils of the haunted wood.\n\nAccordingly they sought the fisherman and his wife, and told them that\nnow they must leave the shelter of their cottage and journey toward\nthe city that lay beyond the forest.\n\nThe farewells were said and Huldbrand lifted his beautiful wife and\nseated her on his horse. He himself would walk by her side.\n\nThe three travellers soon reached the leafy shades of the forest.\n\nOn one side of the lady walked the priest, clad in a long white robe,\nwhile, guarding her on the other side, was, as I told you, the knight.\nHis armour was burnished and his sword was once more girt by his side.\n\nAs Huldbrand and Undine talked joyfully together, a stranger joined\nthe priest, yet they in their joy did not notice this.\n\nThe stranger wore a garment such as a monk might wear. The hood was\ndrawn forward and wellnigh hid his face, while the whole robe hung\nloosely around him, in great folds, so that at each step he must\ngather it up and throw it over his arm.\n\n[Illustration: The three travellers soon reached the leafy shades of\nthe forest]\n\n'I have lived in the forest for many years,' said the stranger to the\npriest, 'and I love it for its great beauty. As I flit in and out\namong the dark shadows of the trees, I play with the stray sunbeams as\nthey cast their glances here and there on my white robe.'\n\n'Tell me your name, for I would fain know who you are,' said the\npriest to his companion.\n\n'Nay, tell me first who are you who ask?' said the stranger.\n\n'Father Heilman is my name,' answered the priest, 'and I am journeying\nback to my monastery, after an absence of many days.'\n\n'Now I,' said the stranger, 'am named Lord Kuehleborn, though sometimes\nI am called Kuehleborn the Free, for indeed I am free as the wild birds\nof the air to go hither and thither as I will. Meanwhile, Sir Priest,\nI bid you farewell, for I would speak to yonder lady.'\n\nEven as he spoke, Kuehleborn left the priest and came close up to\nUndine. He bent forward as though he would whisper in her ear. But\nUndine drew herself quickly away, crying as she saw who was by her\nside, 'I no longer wish to have aught to do with you!'\n\nBut her uncle only laughed at her words.\n\n'You are my niece,' he said, 'and I am here to guide you through the\nforest. The goblins in the cavern beneath the earth might come forth\nto do you harm were I not here to keep them quiet. The priest, who is\nnamed Father Heilman, speaks to me more kindly than do you. Know you\nnot that it was I who brought him in safety to the little island to be\nready for your wedding-day?'\n\nUndine and the knight turned to the priest, but he was walking as one\nin deep thought, and had, it was easy to see, heard nothing that the\nstranger had said.\n\nThen Undine turned again to her uncle. 'See yonder,' she cried, 'I can\nsee already the end of the wood. We need your help no longer. I pray\nyou vanish and do not disturb us further.'\n\nWhen Kuehleborn saw that Undine really wished him to leave her, he was\nangry. He made faces and shook his fist at his niece, until at length\nshe screamed, 'Huldbrand, Huldbrand, save me, I entreat you!'\n\nThe knight at once drew his sword and would have struck at the rude\nstranger. But as he thrust in the direction of Kuehleborn he felt a\nwaterfall come rushing down from a rock above him. He drew his wife\nback, that she might not be drenched, but as he did so a white spray\nwas flung after them which wet them both to the skin. At that moment\nthey heard, as they thought, a low mocking laugh.\n\n'It is strange,' said the priest, 'that the ripple of the stream\nshould sound almost as the voice of a man.'\n\nTo Huldbrand the stream still seemed to be speaking, and these were\nthe words he thought he heard. 'You were foolish, Sir Knight, to draw\nyour sword, yet will I not be angry with you, nor will I quarrel with\nyou so long as you guard well your beautiful wife. Yet be not again\nthus hasty, Sir Knight.'\n\nAs the voice faded away into silence the travellers reached the end of\nthe wood. Before them was the city, glowing red in the rays of the\nsetting sun.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE KNIGHT RETURNS TO THE CITY\n\n\nNow all this time the lady Bertalda had been very unhappy because of\nthe knight's long absence. Indeed, she had no sooner sent Huldbrand\nforth into the haunted forest than she began to wish that she had kept\nhim by her side. As day after day passed and he did not return, she\ngrew fearful lest he had lost his way and perished in the mazes of the\nwood. When a little later she heard of the floods that had made the\ncountry around impassable, she wellnigh lost all hope of his return.\n\nIn spite of this, however, she begged the knights who had taken part\nin the tournament to go in search of Huldbrand, but this they were\nunwilling to do.\n\nAs for the knight's own servants, they would not leave the city\nwithout their master, yet neither would they follow him into the\ndreaded forest. They lingered on at an inn of the city, lamenting his\nabsence, but doing nought to bring him back.\n\nIt was now, when there seemed but little hope of his return, that\nHuldbrand, to the surprise of every one, appeared in the city,\nbringing with him a wife of wondrous beauty, as well as Father\nHeilman, the priest who had married them.\n\nHuldbrand's servants rejoiced to see their young master alive and\nwell. And the town folk, who had heard of his disappearance, were glad\nthat the light-hearted knight, who had always treated them with\ncourtesy, had suffered no harm in his adventure.\n\nBut the lady Bertalda, though she was glad that the knight had\nreturned, was sad when she saw that he had not come back alone. She\nherself had loved him, and had hoped that, if ever he should return,\nhe would claim her as his bride.\n\nYet though Bertalda was sad, she was a wise maiden, and she received\nUndine kindly, thinking that she was a princess whom Huldbrand had\nrescued from a wicked wizard. For the true story of the beautiful\nUndine was known to none, save to the knight alone.\n\nAs for Undine, she no sooner saw Bertalda than she loved her, and\nbegged her to stay in the city until she and her husband left it.\nNay, more, she even asked the maiden to promise to go with them when\nthey set out for the castle of Ringstetten, which stood on the banks\nof the river Danube, and Bertalda was well pleased with this request.\n\nOne evening they three together walked up and down in the public\nsquare. In the midst of the square stood a beautiful fountain, and\nhere they lingered to watch the water as it tumbled and tossed. So\nviolently did it do this that it seemed as though the fountain must\nbreak, and the water, bursting its bonds, must flow away far and free.\n\nAt that moment a tall man came towards them from the market-place,\nand, bowing to the knight and Bertalda, he drew the young wife aside\nthat he might speak to her alone.\n\nHuldbrand looked at the stranger, and as he looked he felt sure that\nhe had seen him before. He grew a little angry, this hasty knight, as\nhe watched his wife and the stranger whispering together. He caught a\nfew words too, and they seemed to him to be in a foreign language, and\nthis displeased him yet more.\n\nAt this moment, however, Undine left the stranger. As she came toward\nher husband she was laughing merrily and clapping her hands.\n\nBut the stranger, as she left him, shook his head and frowned. Then he\nwalked with great strides toward the fountain, and stepping into it he\nvanished and was seen no more.\n\n'It is Kuehleborn, the spirit of the forest stream--I know him now,'\nthought Huldbrand to himself.\n\nBut Bertalda seemed to see nothing unusual about the stranger. She\nthought he was the Master of the fountain, and turning to Undine she\nasked her what the man had said to make her laugh so gaily.\n\n'The day after to-morrow is your birthday, dear Bertalda,' said\nUndine. 'Wait only until then, and I will tell you the reason of my\njoy.'\n\nThen, saying farewell to Bertalda, Undine and the knight walked toward\ntheir home.\n\n'Was it Kuehleborn who spoke to you by the fountain?' asked Huldbrand,\nand his voice sounded cold, for he did not wish to be reminded of his\nwife's strange relations.\n\n'It was he,' answered Undine. 'He told me tidings that made me\nrejoice. I will tell you without delay, should you desire it, what the\ntidings were. Yet if you will but wait until Bertalda's birthday, you\nwill give me great pleasure, and you yourself will enjoy a great\nsurprise.'\n\nListening to her gentle words, the knight forgot the ill-humour he had\nbut lately felt, and willingly he agreed to wait until she herself\nwished to tell him the good news.\n\nAnd Undine, as she fell asleep that night, was smiling happily.\n'Bertalda, dear Bertalda,' she murmured, 'how she will rejoice when I\ntell her the tidings brought to me by him whom she calls the Master of\nthe fountain.'\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE BIRTHDAY FEAST\n\n\nIt had been Undine's wish to give a great banquet in honour of\nBertalda's birthday. The knight had ordered that all should be done as\nshe desired.\n\nThe feast was now spread, and the guests, of whom there were a great\nnumber, had already taken their seats.\n\nAt the upper end of the table sat Bertalda, surrounded with flowers\nand jewels, gifts these which her foster-parents and friends had\nshowered upon her. By her side sat the knight and his fair young wife.\n\nWhen at length the fruit was placed on the table, the doors of the\nbanqueting-room were flung open. (In Germany, where the knight lived,\nit was usual to do this that the peasant folk might look in and see\nhow their masters fared.) Wine and cakes were offered to those who on\nthis evening came to show their pleasure in the joy of the knight and\nhis young wife.\n\nHuldbrand and Bertalda, meanwhile, were watching Undine with eager\neyes. Had she not a secret to tell them, which, when they knew it,\nwould make them even happier than before?\n\nBut Undine only smiled upon them as she caught their eyes, and shook\nher head slightly as though to say, 'No, it is still too soon, too\nsoon.'\n\nAt this moment the guests begged the young mistress of the feast to\nsing. She seemed pleased with the request, and taking her lute in her\nhands, she began to play softly, while her clear voice filled the\nroom.\n\nIt was a song of sunshine and green grass, of sweet flowers and\nsparkling waters, and the guests, listening spellbound, forgot all\nelse save the singer and her song.\n\nBut hark! the song is changing. Who is the child of whom Undine sings?\nA child who has been borne by the waves far from the home of her\nbirth. The little one is lying like a flower among the meadow grass\n(the guests can see her as the singer sings) and reaches out her tiny\nhands for help.\n\nAh! now they hear the tramp, tramp of a horse. A noble duke is riding\nslowly along. He halts, for he sees the little maid. He stoops and\nlifts her in his arms, and carries her off to his own castle, and\nsurrounds her with splendour and with wealth.\n\nAnd now tears gather in the eyes of the guests. The song is drawing to\na close, and Undine is singing of an unknown shore, where in a little\ncottage sit a father and mother, desolate and sad, for they have lost\ntheir little child, and they know not where to find her.\n\nAmong all the guests were none who listened to the song more eagerly\nthan Bertalda's noble foster-parents.\n\n'She has sung the story of Bertalda, the little child we found so long\nago,' they said each to the other. 'It was even thus we found her in\nthe meadow, among the flowers.'\n\nAnd Bertalda herself cried out in haste, 'Undine, Undine, you know my\nparents, bring them to me, bring them to me, I entreat you!'\n\nThen Undine, with tears that were tears of joy in her eyes, looked at\nBertalda, and said softly, 'They are here, your parents are here, dear\nmaiden, and when you see them you will rejoice. Well do I know the\ntender care they will give to you, for it was even they who were my\nown foster-parents.'\n\nAt a sign from Undine the old fisherman and his wife now stepped\nforward from the corner in which their foster-child had bidden them\nwait. It was she, Undine, who had sent for them that they might claim\nBertalda, who was, as Kuehleborn told her, their child.\n\nThe eyes of all the guests were fixed in astonishment on the humble\nfisherman and his wife. Could these poor working folk be indeed the\nparents of the maiden who stood before them, so cold, so full of\npride?\n\n'Yes, here is your long-lost daughter,' said Undine softly, as the old\npeople stood bewildered before Bertalda. Then they, taking courage\nfrom her words, threw their arms around their daughter. And as they\nembraced her, tears streamed down their old worn faces, while they\nthanked God for His goodness in giving them back their child.\n\nBut Bertalda tore herself from their arms. She, the child of a poor\nold fisherman and his wife! She could not believe it. She did not wish\nto believe it. In her pride she had hoped to be known as the daughter\nof a beautiful princess, or even of a queen. Now in her anger she\nbelieved that Undine had brought the fisherman and his wife to the\nbanquet only to crush her pride and to humble her before Huldbrand and\nhis guests.\n\nThe angry maiden took no pains to hide her rage. She reproached\nUndine, Undine who had only wished to give her joy, nor had she any\nwords too bitter to fling at the fisherman and his wife.\n\nAnd Undine, who had hoped to make her friend and her foster-parents\nhappy, listened sadly, now to Bertalda, now to the old fisherman and\nhis wife.\n\n'Bertalda,' she cried, 'Bertalda, do not be angry. Have you not a\nsoul? Let it teach you not to grieve your parents more.'\n\nBut Bertalda only grew more angry, and the poor parents, as they heard\nher scorn, more sad.\n\nAs for the guests, they were talking loudly, some being sorry for the\nmaiden, others for the fisherman and his wife.\n\nThen Undine begged the knight to let her speak to their guests. And he\nyielding to her wish, she walked to the upper end of the table, and\nwhile all eyes were fixed upon her, she spoke.\n\n'My secret, which I thought would cause Bertalda joy, has caused her\nsorrow. Yet must I tell you that I have spoken the truth. For he who\ntold me was he who, when Bertalda was but a little babe, drew her into\nthe water, and thereafter laid her in the green meadow through which\nthe duke rode toward his castle.'\n\n'Do not listen to her words!' shouted Bertalda in her rage. 'She is a\nwitch, a witch!'\n\n'Nay, I am no witch. Look upon me that you may know,' answered Undine.\nAnd as they gazed upon her pure face and into her clear blue eyes, the\nguests knew that she spoke the truth. Undine was not a witch.\n\n'If she is not a witch, she at least has not told the truth,' cried\nBertalda, scorn in her cold voice. 'She has no proof that I am the\nchild of these wretched old people.' Then, turning to her noble\nfoster-parents, she entreated them to take her away at once from the\ncity, where such shame had been brought upon her.\n\nBut the duke did not move, while the duchess said in a firm voice, 'We\nshall not leave this room, nor shall you, proud maiden, until we know\nthe truth.'\n\nThen the fisherman's wife drew near to the noble lady, and curtsying\nlow she said, 'Should this bad maiden be indeed my daughter, as I do\nthink she is, she will have between her shoulders a mark like a\nviolet, and this mark also you will find on the instep of her left\nfoot. Let the maiden come with me that--'\n\nBut Bertalda rudely interrupted the old woman's words.\n\n'I will not go with the peasant!' she said.\n\n'But you will come with me into another room,' said the duchess, and\nBertalda knew that she would have to go. 'And the old woman shall come\nwith us,' added the noble lady in a kind voice.\n\nAs the three went out of the banqueting-room, silence fell upon the\nguests. Now they would soon know the truth.\n\nSlowly the moments passed. At length the door opened and the duchess\nreturned with Bertalda and the old woman. Bertalda looked pale and\nfrightened.\n\n'It is but just,' said the noble lady, looking round the room, 'it is\nbut just that you should know the truth. It is as our hostess has\nsaid. Bertalda is indeed the daughter of the fisherman and his wife.'\n\nThe duke and duchess then left the room, followed by their\nfoster-child, the duke bidding Bertalda's true parents come with them\nalso.\n\nIn silence the other guests slipped away, to talk in their own homes\nover all that they had heard and seen, and Undine, left alone with her\nhusband, wept bitterly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE JOURNEY TO CASTLE RINGSTETTEN\n\n\nThe knight did all he could to comfort his wife, and although he was\nsorry to see her tears, he was glad to think that she, who had been so\nwild and wilful, had now a soul so kind and loving.\n\n'If it is true that Undine has won through love a soul, it is one more\npure than mortals know,' he thought to himself.\n\nAs he comforted his wife Huldbrand made up his mind to take her away\nfrom the city as soon as possible.\n\nIn the city the lady Bertalda was well known, and people talked of the\nstrange story of her birth. But among them all none was heard to say\nan unkind word about Undine, while many there were who blamed Bertalda\nfor her cruel behaviour toward her friend and the poor old fisherman\nand his wife. But this neither the knight nor his lady knew, nor\nwould it have comforted Undine had she been told.\n\nThe morning after the feast a beautiful carriage stood at the door.\nHuldbrand and his wife were ready to set out on their journey to the\ncastle of Ringstetten.\n\nAs the knight and Undine were stepping into the carriage a fisher-girl\ndrew near, and begged them to buy her fish.\n\n'We are leaving the city, we do not need any fish,' said the knight\ncourteously. But at the sound of his voice the girl burst into tears,\nand Huldbrand saw with surprise that it was Bertalda who had spoken to\nhim.\n\n'Why do you weep so bitterly?' asked Undine, drawing Bertalda into the\nhouse, and the maiden, who had no pride left, told her story.\n\n'My foster-parents,' she said between her sobs, 'my foster-parents are\nso displeased with my cruel behaviour to you and to the old fisherman\nand his wife, that they no longer wish me to live with them. They have\ngiven me a large sum of money and have sent me away into the wide\nworld. The fisherman and his wife, to whom they have also given gifts,\nhave gone back to their cottage by the lake. I was too fearful to wish\nto be left alone in the world, and fain would I have gone with them to\ntheir simple home, but he who is said to be my father--'\n\n[Illustration: At the sound of his voice the girl burst into tears]\n\n'In truth he is your father,' interrupted Undine, and her voice was\ngrave.\n\n'Even if he be my father,' answered Bertalda, 'yet would he not take\nme with him to his cottage. Did I care for him or for his wife, he\nsaid, I would not fear to journey alone through the haunted forest,\nuntil I found my home. Nor would he welcome me should I go to him\ndressed in aught save the dress of a fisher-girl. Although the thought\nof the forest makes me tremble, yet will I do as he has said. But\nfirst I have come to you, gentle lady,' and as she spoke Bertalda\nlooked entreatingly at Undine, 'I have come to ask your forgiveness\nfor my behaviour yesterday. I believe that you did indeed wish to give\nme joy by bringing my poor parents to the feast. O forgive me, forgive\nall the bold and unkind words I spoke, for indeed I am very unhappy.'\n\nBut the gentle Undine would let the miserable maiden say no more. She\nthrew her arms around Bertalda's neck, and said, 'Bertalda, dear\nBertalda, you shall live with me and be my sister. You shall come with\nme to Ringstetten this very day.'\n\nThe maiden dried her tears and looked timidly at the knight. He also\nfelt sorry for Bertalda, nor did it please him to think of her\nventuring alone into the forest. Too well he knew the terrors which\nmight surround her there. He took her hand, as he saw her timid look,\nand said in a gentle voice, 'You shall live with us at Ringstetten,\nand I and my wife will take care of you. But lest the good old\nfisherman is troubled as the days pass and you do not reach the\ncottage, I will send to tell him that you have come with us and are\nsafe at Castle Ringstetten.' Then, giving Bertalda his arm, he placed\nher in the carriage with Undine. The knight himself mounted his horse\nand rode along gaily by their side, and soon they left the city and\nall sad thoughts behind.\n\nAt length, one fair summer evening, the travellers reached\nRingstetten. There was much to make the knight busy after his long\nabsence, and thus it was that Undine and Bertalda spent many days\nalone together. Often they would walk in the beautiful country which\nlay without the castle grounds.\n\nOne day, as they wandered along the banks of the river Danube, a tall\nman came toward them, and would have spoken to Undine. But Undine,\ngentle as were her ways, had no welcome for the stranger. When she saw\nhim, a frown crossed her sweet face and she bid him at once begone.\nShaking his head the tall man yet obeyed, and walking with hasty steps\ntoward a little wood, he soon disappeared.\n\n'Is not the stranger he who spoke to you in the city, the Master of\nthe fountain?' cried Bertalda fearfully. She would always be afraid of\nthe man who had told Undine the secret of her birth.\n\n'Fear nothing, dear Bertalda,' said Undine hastily, 'the Master of the\nfountain shall not do you harm. I will tell you who he is, and then\nyou will no longer be afraid. His name is Kuehleborn and he is my\nuncle. It was he who carried you away from your mother's arms and put\nme there in your place.'\n\nThen, as Bertalda listened with wide open eyes, Undine told her of her\nchildhood's home in the crystal palace under the blue sea, and of the\nfree and careless life she had lived in the cottage by the lake. She\ntold her, too, of the coming of the knight, and of their wedding-day,\nwhen she had won for herself a soul, a gift given to no Undine save\nthrough the power of love.\n\nBertalda listened to the strange story in silence, but as she listened\nshe felt a faint feeling of dread creep into her heart. And the\nfeeling grew and grew until at last it seemed to stand as a wall\nbetween her and the gentle Undine.\n\nAt supper that evening she began to be sorry for the knight, who had\nmarried a lady beautiful indeed and good, yet one who seemed to belong\nto another world than theirs.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nCASTLE RINGSTETTEN\n\n\nNow as the days passed, a change crept over those who dwelt in the\ncastle.\n\nHuldbrand saw that Bertalda seemed to shrink away from his beautiful\nwife. And when at length he asked her the reason that she no longer\nloved Undine so well as she had been used to do, she told him that she\nnow knew from whence his wife had come. 'And for the spirit world,'\nsaid Bertalda, 'I do not care, for I know it not. It and those who\nhave dwelt there fill me with fear and dread.'\n\nLittle by little the knight himself began to look at his wife with\nless loving eyes, little by little he began to shun her presence.\n\nThen Undine, seeing that her husband's love grew less, wept, and the\nknight, seeing her tears, would speak kindly to her, yet even as he\nspoke he would leave her side to walk with Bertalda.\n\nShe, Bertalda, meanwhile grew once more rude and proud, nor could\nUndine's patience win her to behave more wisely.\n\nThen in the long dark passages of the old castle, spectres began to\nappear to Huldbrand and Bertalda, and worse than any was the tall form\nof Kuehleborn, or the Master of the fountain, as the maiden still\ncalled him.\n\nNow one day, when Huldbrand had ridden to the hunt, Undine gathered\nall her servants together in the court of the castle and bade them\nbring a big stone to cover up the fountain which stood in the middle\nof the square.\n\nThe servants, who loved their mistress, hastened to obey her commands.\nA huge stone was carried into the court, and was just about to be\nplaced on the fountain when Bertalda came hurriedly to the spot.\n\n'The fountain must not be closed,' she cried haughtily, 'for it is\nfrom it that water is drawn for my daily bath.'\n\nBut Undine, who on other days had often given way to the wishes of\nBertalda, was to-day determined that her will should be done.\n\n'It is I who am mistress of the castle in the absence of my lord,' she\nsaid, and her voice was firm though it was kind, 'and the fountain\nshall be closed as I have commanded.'\n\n'But look,' cried Bertalda angrily, 'the water itself bubbles and\nheaves as though disturbed at the thought of being shut out from the\nglad sunshine.'\n\nThe water was indeed, as the maiden said, fretting against the stones\nand throwing out sudden jets as though in a violent passion.\n\nThe more excited grew the water, however, the more determined grew\nUndine to have her order fulfilled, and that without delay.\n\nAs for the servants, they had no wish to please the haughty Bertalda,\nthey were even glad to disobey her when that might be.\n\nAccordingly they no longer delayed to do the will of their gentle\nmistress, and the stone was soon placed securely over the opening of\nthe fountain. Undine then bent over it and silently wrote on the top\nof the stone some strange letters.\n\nThat evening, when Huldbrand came home, Bertalda met him with tears in\nher eyes, and complained to him of his wife's strange conduct.\n\n'Tell me why you have ordered that the fountain should be sealed,'\nsaid the knight, turning sullenly to his wife. 'It was a strange\ndeed.'\n\n'I will tell you the reason when we are alone,' said Undine. 'It was\na grave one indeed.'\n\n'It matters not if Bertalda should hear,' said the knight, and he did\nnot hide the impatience that he felt.\n\n'I will tell you in her presence if you so desire,' said Undine, 'but\nI beseech you, desire it not.'\n\nAs the knight looked into her pleading face and let her sweet voice\nsteal into his heart, he grew ashamed of himself. How could he ever be\nunkind to so fair, so good a wife!\n\nThinking thus Huldbrand did not speak, but he drew Undine gently from\nthe room, that she might speak to him alone as she wished to do.\n\n'Ah, now I can tell you,' said Undine, and she smiled in her content.\n'You know that Kuehleborn, my uncle, has begun to haunt the castle. I\nsend him away in my displeasure, yet again and again he returns. Now I\nhave shut the door by which he comes, and here he will disturb our\npeace no more. It is true that the stone can easily be raised by\nstrong men, in spite of the letters which I wrote upon it. If you wish\nto do as Bertalda demands, remove the stone, yet do I warn you that\nKuehleborn may well harm the maiden, for against her he bears more\nill-will than he does against others.'\n\nOnce more, as Huldbrand listened to his wife, he was ashamed. So\ngentle was she, so kind to the haughty maiden who but mocked at her\nfor all her love. Peerless indeed was the soul of his beautiful wife,\nand once again love for her sprang up within his heart.\n\n'The stone shall not be removed, nor shall anything that you order be\nundone, my sweet Undine,' said the knight.\n\nAt these words, and yet more at the kindness of his voice, Undine\nrejoiced. Then, seizing Huldbrand's hand, she begged him to grant her\none request.\n\n'If at any time, in the days that are to come,' she said, 'you upbraid\nme, promise that this you will never do while we are sailing or while\nwe are near to sea or lake or tiny rivulet. For should one of my race\nhear you use harsh words toward me, then would they regain their\npower, and snatch me away from you for ever. Then would I be forced to\ndwell all the rest of my life in the crystal palace below the blue\nsea. Nor could I ever come up to you unless, indeed, I was sent by my\nkindred, when alas! only great sadness would befall us both. Promise\nme, therefore, that when we are near water, you will remember what I\nhave now told you.'\n\nHuldbrand promised, and hand in hand they went in search of Bertalda.\n\nShe meanwhile had called together some workmen, and as she saw the\nknight and Undine drawing near, she gave her orders to the men in a\nloud, discontented voice. 'The stone may now be removed. Hasten, see\nthat it be done immediately!'\n\nBut the knight was angry with the maiden for daring thus to give what\norders she pleased, and he shouted at once, so that the workmen might\nhear, 'The stone shall stay where it is! It shall not be removed!'\n\nAnd the men went away, well pleased that they need not undo what their\ngentle mistress had ordered to be done.\n\nHuldbrand then reproved Bertalda for her rude behaviour to his wife,\nbut she scarcely heard his words, as she turned away in anger and\nhastened to her room.\n\nSoon supper was placed on the table, but Huldbrand and Undine waited\nin vain for Bertalda. At length they sent a servant to call her, but\nthe maid came back only to tell them that she was nowhere to be found.\nIn her room, however, a letter had been left addressed to the knight.\nHuldbrand opened it hastily and read:--\n\n'Forgive me, Sir Knight, that I have forgotten that I am only a poor\nfisher-girl. I will go to my father's miserable cottage, where I\ncannot well commit the same fault again. Fare you well, you and your\nbeautiful wife.'\n\n'You must go without delay to seek her and bring her back,' said\nUndine.\n\nAnd Huldbrand did not need to be urged. Already he had ordered his\nhorse to be saddled that he might ride after the maiden.\n\nIn vain he asked the servants in what direction Bertalda had gone. No\none had seen her. It was only as the knight impatiently mounted his\nsteed, that a page ran up to him crying, 'The lady Bertalda rode\ntoward the Black Valley.'\n\nWithout a pause the knight darted off in the direction of the valley.\nHe did not hear his wife's voice crying after him, 'Huldbrand,\nHuldbrand, go not there, not to the valley, Huldbrand, or, if go you\nmust, take me, I entreat of you.'\n\nThen when Undine saw that her cry was unheard, she ordered her palfrey\nto be saddled instantly, and mounting it, she rode forth alone to\nfollow the knight into the Black Valley.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE BLACK VALLEY\n\n\nThe Black Valley was a gloomy place. Fir-trees grew tall and dark on\nthe banks of the stream, casting strange shadows on the sunny waters.\n\nAs the knight entered the valley, evening had fallen and the stream\nrushed, dark and sullen, between the rocks.\n\nHuldbrand glanced anxiously from side to side, but no trace could be\nfound of the maiden whom he sought. He began to fear lest already she\nwere in peril, and thinking thus he urged his horse yet further into\nthe valley.\n\nPeering through the bushes as he rode, he at length caught sight of\nsomething white lying on the ground. Had he found Bertalda at last?\n\nHe spurred his horse onward toward the white gleam which had caught\nhis eye, but the animal no sooner saw the object which had gladdened\nhis master's eye than it started violently and refused to move. Then\nthe knight dismounted, and tying his now rearing steed to an elm, he\npushed his way on foot through the brushwood.\n\nThunder began to rumble around the mountains, and the evening dew fell\ncold and damp on the anxious knight.\n\nHe could still see the white figure lying on the ground, but as he\ndrew nearer to it a strange dread struck at Huldbrand's heart.\n\n'Was Bertalda asleep,' he wondered, 'or did she lie there unconscious,\nperchance even dead?'\n\nHe was close to her now, bending over her. She never stirred. He\nrustled the branches, rattled his sword. Still she lay there quiet,\nmotionless. He called her by her name, 'Bertalda!' but no voice\nanswered him. He called again, more loud, 'Bertalda!' but only a\nsorrowful echo answered his cry.\n\nThen the knight bent nearer yet to the maiden, but darkness hid the\nface on which he longed to gaze.\n\nSuddenly the whole valley was bright as at mid-day. A vivid flash of\nlightning showed to Huldbrand the face over which he bent.\n\nIt was a terrible face. And a voice, awful as the face, rang out harsh\nand hollow.\n\nWith a cry of terror the knight sprang away from the horrid vision.\nBut was it a vision? Huldbrand knew that it was creeping after him,\nand he could catch some muttered words. 'Get you gone, get you gone,'\nhe heard, 'there are evil spirits abroad. Get you gone, or I shall\nseize you and hold you fast,' and the white figure stretched out his\nbony arms to catch him. Ah! now the knight knew who it was that had\ngiven him so cruel a fright. It was none other than Kuehleborn, the\nmalicious water spirit.\n\nSeizing his sword, Huldbrand struck fiercely at the white figure, only\nhowever to see it vanish, while a heavy shower of water drenched him\nfrom head to foot.\n\n'He may wish to drive me away, but he shall not succeed in doing so,'\nmurmured the knight. 'Bertalda shall not be left to the vengeance of\nthis evil spirit.'\n\nHuldbrand now turned back to go to his horse, but ere he reached the\nanimal, he heard in the distance a sound of weeping. It reached his\nears even though the thunder still rolled and the wind still blew. He\nhastened towards the spot from which the sound seemed to come. There,\non the hillside, trying to climb up out of the darkness of the valley,\nhe found Bertalda.\n\nThe maiden was too glad to see Huldbrand to remember how but lately he\nhad angered her. She clung to him, calling him her deliverer, her\nknight, for to her too the valley had been full of horrible forms and\nstrange visions.\n\nSoothing her with kind words, Huldbrand led the maiden toward his\nhorse.\n\nBut no sooner did the animal see his master approach with Bertalda on\nhis arm than it began to rear, beating the air madly with its\nforefeet.\n\nIt was not possible to mount Bertalda, and the knight soon gave up the\nattempt. He drew the horse gently forward by the bridle, while with\nhis other arm he supported the fearful maiden.\n\nBut Bertalda, though she was anxious to escape from the dark valley,\ncould walk but slowly, and at each step her strength grew less. For\nKuehleborn had played her many pranks ere she had been found. The storm\nalso had bruised her slender form.\n\nAt length she slipped from the knight's arm, and falling on the grass,\nshe sighed, 'Leave me, noble knight, leave me to suffer the punishment\nI deserve.'\n\n'I will never leave you, dear Bertalda,' cried the knight. As he\nspoke, the steed began to plunge even more furiously than before. It\nwas impossible for Huldbrand to control the animal. All he could do\nwas to force it away a few paces from where the maiden lay, for he\nfeared lest the horse should trample her to death.\n\nHe had gone but a few steps when he heard her calling to him,\n'Huldbrand, Huldbrand, leave me not alone,' for already all her\ncourage had faded away.\n\nAs he hesitated, the knight heard the wheels of a wagon rumble slowly\nover the rough road that led through the valley. He at once called to\nthe driver to come to his help. A man's voice called back quickly,\n'Have but patience, and I will come.'\n\nSoon afterwards Huldbrand saw two white horses appear through the\ntrees. Then a wagon covered with a great white hood was to be seen,\nand last of all the driver, who was dressed in a white carter's frock.\n\nThe driver drew near to the knight and tried to help him to quiet his\nfrightened steed.\n\n'Do you know, Sir Knight, why your good horse shivers thus?' asked the\ncarter, 'for if not I can tell you. A bad water spirit dwells in this\nvalley, and often he would bewitch my horses when first I ventured\nthrough it. But now I have learned a little spell. If you wish it, I\nwill whisper it in the ear of your steed, and he will stand steady as\nmy greys.'\n\n'You may try your spell,' said the knight, 'though I fear that it will\nbe of but little use.'\n\nThen the driver of the wagon went quietly up to the panting steed, and\nsaid a few words to it. At once the horse stood still, without a trace\nof the fear which had made it so restless and unmanageable.\n\nHuldbrand had no time to wonder what the wagoner had said to his\nhorse. He was too eager to get Bertalda out of the valley to think of\nanything else.\n\n'My wagon will take the fair lady safely back to Ringstetten,' said\nthe wagoner. 'She may sit in it in comfort, for it is filled with bags\nof the softest cotton.'\n\nThe knight was glad to accept this offer, and as his horse, though\nquiet, was tired and weary, Huldbrand himself was easily persuaded\nthat he also should ride in the wagon with Bertalda, while his steed\nwas fastened behind.\n\n'It is well,' said the wagoner, 'that the road is downhill. My trusty\ngreys will step out bravely.'\n\nThus they started, the driver walking by the side of his wagon.\n\nAnd Bertalda and the knight did not heed the jolting of the wagon, as\nthey sat side by side on the soft bags of cotton.\n\nSuddenly they were startled by a loud shout from the driver.\n\n'Steady, now, my trusty greys, steady, lest you fall.'\n\nAlready the wagon was in the midst of a stream of rushing water, and\nit seemed as though the horses must be carried off their feet. The\nwagoner had sprung into the wagon untouched by the swirling waters.\n\n'This is a strange way by which to drive us,' said Huldbrand to the\nwagoner. 'It seems to go right into the middle of the stream.'\n\n'Nay, now, Sir Knight,' laughed the driver, 'if you look again, you\nwill see that it is the stream which is rushing across our path. See,\nit has overflowed its banks.'\n\nThe knight looked and saw that the whole valley was being rapidly\nflooded. Then, all at once, he knew that this was Kuehleborn's doing.\n\n'It is Kuehleborn,' he cried aloud, 'Kuehleborn the water spirit, who is\ndoing his utmost to drown us. Do you not know a spell against his\npower?'\n\n'Yea, by my troth I know a spell,' answered the wagoner, 'but ere I\nuse it, I must tell you who I am.'\n\n'I care not who you may be,' shouted the angry knight. 'See you not\nthat there is no time to lose. The water is rising rapidly.'\n\n'Nevertheless,' answered the man,' you shall hear my name, for I am\nKuehleborn!'\n\nHe laughed a mocking laugh, and at that moment the wagon seemed to\ndisappear, and Bertalda and the knight were struggling in the flood.\nAbove them rose the wagoner, who was indeed, as he had said,\nKuehleborn. Taller and taller he towered above them, until he seemed at\nlast to change into a great white wave.\n\nWith horror-stricken eyes the maiden and the knight saw the wave swoop\ndown upon the noble steed, which had been vainly struggling in the\nwater. Then slowly once more the wave reared itself higher and higher\nyet above the heads of the two who watched and waited until they too\nshould be for ever buried beneath the waters.\n\nBut ere the great white wave rolled down upon them, they were saved.\nThrough the tumult of the waters a sweet voice floated to Bertalda and\nthe knight. Then, as the moon broke through the clouds, they saw\nUndine on a hill looking down into the valley.\n\nShe rebuked the waters, she even threatened the vast wave that towered\nabove Bertalda and the knight, until muttering gloomily it vanished\nfrom their sight.\n\nAs the waters ran more quietly through the valley, Undine flew to them\nswiftly as a bird and drew them up out of reach of the water. Bidding\nthem rest a while, for they were weary, she went a little way off to\nfetch her white palfrey. Then, telling the knight to place Bertalda on\nthe saddle, she led them safely back to the castle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nHULDBRAND FORGETS HIS PROMISE\n\n\nUndine was full of joy when she had saved Bertalda and Huldbrand from\nthe dangers of the Black Valley, and brought them back safely to\nCastle Ringstetten. Her joy grew daily greater as her husband became\nkind and gentle to her as he had used to be when they dwelt together\nin the cottage by the lake. Indeed the knight had grown ashamed of his\ncareless words and ways. He would never again speak harshly to Undine\nor leave her side to spend long hours with Bertalda; so he thought to\nhimself. For when she had hastened to save him and the maiden from the\ndoom which had all but overtaken them, he had seen once more, in a\nflash, the soul of his beautiful young wife. It shone before him now,\nfair and spotless in its beauty.\n\nBertalda, too, had been touched by the goodness of her friend. She no\nlonger wished to mock her gentle words, and though her heart was\ncold, she grew more humble.\n\nThus trouble and care passed away from Ringstetten, and spectres no\nlonger haunted the dark corners of the castle.\n\nWinter came, cold and chill, but it had no power to freeze the hearts\nof Undine and the knight.\n\nSpring came, and the trees grew green, and the sky shone more blue,\nand the little birds began to use their wings. Soon the swallows and\nthe storks came home from their long winter journeys. And those in the\ncastle, as they thought of the fair countries these had seen, began\nthemselves to wish to travel.\n\nOne beautiful evening Huldbrand with his wife and Bertalda walked\nalong the banks of the river Danube. The knight, who had ofttimes\nsailed down the river, told them tales of the wonderful countries\nthrough which it flowed, and of the beautiful town of Vienna, which\nrose so proudly on its banks.\n\n'Ah!' said Bertalda, 'how I wish we might sail to this city of which\nyou tell.'\n\nAnd Undine, ever anxious to give pleasure to her friend, said, 'Yes,\nlet us visit Vienna while the spring is still fair.' Huldbrand also\nwas pleased at the thought of the journey, only once he bent toward\nUndine and whispered, 'Kuehleborn, will we not be in his power if we\nsail down the river?'\n\nHis beautiful wife only laughed. She was too happy now to fear her\nuncle's power.\n\nThey therefore got ready for the journey with much merriment and many\nhopes.\n\nWhen at length the three travellers, with their attendants, set out on\ntheir voyage, it seemed as though all would be as joyful as they had\nwished. As they sailed on, the river grew more broad, more green the\ngrasses too in the rich meadow-lands.\n\nBut erelong a shadow crept across their joy. The river, indeed, flowed\nsmooth as before, the country smiled only more graciously upon the\ntravellers, but Kuehleborn had already begun to show that on this part\nof the river he could use his power.\n\nUndine, it is true, reproved her uncle before he had done more than\nplay a few tricks upon them. Yet though he would cease his pranks when\nshe spoke, it was but a few moments before he was as troublesome as\never.\n\nSoon the crew began to crowd together, whispering fearfully and\nglancing timidly at the knight and his fair ladies. Kuehleborn was\nmaking them afraid.\n\nHuldbrand saw their strange glances and he began to grow angry. He\neven muttered crossly, 'This is Undine's mad uncle come to disturb us.\nI would her strange kindred would leave us alone.'\n\nThinking thus, the knight looked with displeasure at his poor wife.\nShe knew but too well what his glance meant, and worn out with sorrow\nand with her constant watch over Kuehleborn, she at length fell fast\nasleep.\n\nBut no sooner were her eyes closed than her uncle again began his\ntiresome tricks.\n\nIt seemed to the sailors, and indeed to all on board, that they were\nbewitched, for look which way each one would, there before him,\npeering out of the water, was the head of a very ugly man.\n\nEach man turned, in his terror, to point out to his fellow the hideous\nhead. But on every face the same horror was already painted. Then when\neach tried to tell the other what each one had seen, they ended by\ncrying out together, 'See, here is the face! nay, look, it is here!'\n\nUndine awoke as the terrified crew broke into loud screams, and as she\nopened her eyes the ugly faces vanished.\n\nBut Huldbrand had not been frightened. He had been growing more and\nmore angry, and now he would have spoken roughly to his wife, had she\nnot pleaded with loving eyes and soft voice, 'For God's sake, rebuke\nme not while we are on the water. Bethink you of your promise.'\n\nThe knight was silent, for well he remembered how Undine had entreated\nhim never to reprove her while she was near water.\n\nThen she, seeing he was silent, whispered, 'Let us give up this\nvoyage, for now has our joy turned into sadness. Let us go back to the\ncastle where nothing can disturb us.'\n\nHuldbrand, however, was not to be so easily restored to good humour.\nHe answered her crossly, 'Why should I have to stay shut up at home?\nEven there can I have quiet only so long as the fountain remains\nsealed. I wish that your foolish kinsfolk--'\n\nHe could say no more, for Undine's hand was over his lips, and her\nvoice was beseeching him to be silent.\n\nMeanwhile Bertalda sat quietly in the ship, thinking of all the\nstrange things that had happened. As she sat thus thinking, she\nunfastened a golden necklace which the knight had given to her, and\nholding it in her hand over the side of the bark she drew it\ncarelessly through the water. Then dreamily she watched it as it\ngleamed and glistened in the light of the setting sun.\n\nAll at once a huge white hand came up out of the river, seized the\nnecklace, and disappeared with it below the water.\n\nBertalda shrieked in terror, and a mocking laugh answered her cry.\n\nThen could the anger of the knight no longer be concealed. He sprang\nup, shouting to the water spirits to claim no kinship with him, but to\ncome and learn from his sword-thrusts how much he hated them.\n\nThe maiden meanwhile wept for her lost necklace. But Undine had thrust\nher hand into the water, and was murmuring strange words to herself,\nstopping from time to time to say to her husband, 'Chide me not here,\nHuldbrand, chide me not here, lest you lose me for ever.'\n\nAnd, indeed, though the knight shook with rage, yet he spoke no word\nof reproach to his wife.\n\nAt length Undine drew out the hand which she had been holding under\nthe water, and in it she held a coral necklace of wondrous beauty.\n\n'Take it and weep no longer,' she said in her gentle voice, and she\nheld the necklace out toward Bertalda. 'I have had it brought to me\nfrom the palaces below the sea. Grieve no longer for the one which you\nhave lost.'\n\nBut the knight saw in the necklace only another sign of Undine's\nstrange dealings with the water spirits. He sprang between Bertalda\nand his wife and snatched from Undine's hand the beautiful necklace,\nflinging it far away into the river. Then in his passion he turned to\nhis wife, and cried, 'Go and abide with your kindred! You are a witch,\ngo, dwell with those who are as you are, and take with you your gifts!\nGo, trouble us no more!'\n\nUndine looked at Huldbrand. Tears were in her blue eyes, and she wept\nas a little blameless child might weep.\n\n'Alas, beloved,' she sighed, 'farewell! No harm shall touch you while\nI have power to shield you from evil. Alas, alas! why have you sent me\nhence?'\n\nShe seemed to glide as she spoke over the edge of the bark, and be\ndrawn down into the river. And the little waves lapped against the\nboat and seemed to sob as they whispered, 'Alas, alas!'\n\nNo sooner had the knight spoken than he knew what he had done. He had\nlost his wife, his beautiful fair-souled Undine. He lay on the deck\nstretching out empty arms, shedding bitter tears, until at length his\nmisery made the strong man swoon.\n\n[Illustration: The little waves seemed to sob as they whispered,\n'Alas! alas!']\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nHULDBRAND AND BERTALDA\n\n\nWhen he recovered, the knight of Ringstetten went back to his castle\nwith Bertalda. So bitterly did he mourn the loss of his gentle wife,\nthat at length he began to believe that he would never cease to weep\nfor her. Bertalda wept by his side, and for a long time they lived\nquietly together, thinking and talking of none save the beautiful\nUndine.\n\nBut as the months passed by, Huldbrand began to think a little less\nand yet a little less of his beautiful lost wife.\n\nNow about this time the old fisherman appeared at the castle. He had\ncome to tell the knight that it was time that his daughter Bertalda\nshould come to live with him in his lonely cottage by the lake.\n\nThen the knight began to think how strange and silent it would be in\nthe castle if Bertalda left him. The more he thought about it the\nmore he disliked the thought of being left alone.\n\nAt length he spoke to the fisherman and begged him not to take\nBertalda away. 'Let her stay with me and be my wife,' said the knight.\n\nAnd in time the fisherman yielded to the wishes of the knight, and the\nwedding-day was fixed.\n\nThen a letter was sent to Father Heilman, begging him to come without\ndelay to the castle that he might perform the wedding-rite between the\nknight and the lady Bertalda. Now Father Heilman was the very priest\nwho had wedded Huldbrand to Undine in the cottage by the lake.\n\nWhen the priest had read Huldbrand's letter he hastened at once to the\ncastle.\n\nHuldbrand and Bertalda were sitting side by side under the trees, the\nfisherman near them, when they saw the priest enter the court.\n\nThey all rose eagerly to welcome him, but Father Heilman began to\nspeak without delay.\n\n'Sir Knight, I have come with as great haste as my old limbs would\ncarry me to tell you that I do not believe the beautiful Undine is\ndead. Last night and for many nights before, she was with me in my\ndreams, wringing her white hands, and crying, \"Ah, holy Father, I\nlive, I live. Let not Huldbrand forget me, for should he wed again\ngreat danger may, alas, come to him, nor will I have power to shield\nhim. Help me, therefore, holy Father.\" What the dream meant I knew not\nuntil your letter reached me. Now have I come, not to marry you to\nBertalda, but to tell you that Undine, your wife, is yet alive.'\n\nThe knight himself, as well as Bertalda and the fisherman, believed in\ntheir hearts that what the priest said was true, yet would they not\nown that they believed his words. Even the old fisherman, who so\ndearly loved his foster-child, thought that as the marriage with\nBertalda had been arranged, it were well it should take place without\nmore delay.\n\nThey all, therefore, refused to listen to the priest, when he\nreproached them for their conduct. They even told him, what was not\nreally true, that they did not believe his foolish dreams.\n\nSadly shaking his head, the priest left the castle. He saw that should\nhe speak again no one would listen to his words. Nor would he linger\nto taste any of the refreshments that were placed before him. He had\nfailed to make any one believe his dream, and he was too sad to eat.\n\nThe following morning the knight sent to the nearest monastery for a\npriest, who promised to wed him to Bertalda in a few days.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nBERTALDA'S WEDDING\n\n\nThe wedding-day dawned bright and clear, the guests assembled in the\ncastle and wore their gayest garments, yet over everything there\nbrooded a dark cloud. It seemed to the knight, as well as to his\nguests, that some one was missing from the feast, and the thoughts of\nall turned to the beautiful Undine.\n\nThe bride seemed happier than any one else, yet even she knew a cloud\nwas in her sky.\n\nSlowly the hours of the wedding-day dragged on, but at length the\nceremony was over, the feast ended, and the guests ready to depart.\n\nWhen they had gone, Bertalda, thinking to dispel the gloom which had\nnow fallen upon her spirit, told her maids to spread out before her\nall her rich jewels and gorgeous robes. She would choose to-night the\ngarments in which she would array herself on the morrow.\n\nHer waiting-maids did as they were told, and when the dresses and\njewels were spread out before their new mistress, they began to\nflatter her and tell her that none was fairer than she.\n\nBertalda listened with pleasure to their praises. Then looking at\nherself in the mirror she sighed. 'Alas, but see these little brown\nspots that have appeared on my neck.'\n\nThe maids saw indeed, as their mistress said, that there were freckles\non her neck, but still they flattered her, saying that the little\nspots only made her skin look the whiter.\n\nBut Bertalda did not believe their words. She wanted to get rid of the\nfreckles that had only lately appeared on her slender throat.\n\n'Had I but water from the fountain, the spots would vanish in a day,'\nshe cried pettishly.\n\nThen one of Bertalda's maids thought to herself, 'My mistress shall\nhave the water she so much desires,' and laughing gaily to herself,\nshe slipped from the room.\n\nIn but a few moments heavy footsteps were heard in the court below.\nThe footsteps tramped backward and forward.\n\nBertalda, looking from her window, smiled, for she saw that the noisy\nsteps were those of workmen, who were busy removing the stone which\nhad been placed over the fountain. She guessed that this was the doing\nof one of her maids, but she still smiled contentedly. The freckles\nwould not spoil her beauty for another day. The water from the\nfountain would make them disappear, and that was all she cared about\njust then.\n\nAt first the workmen tried in vain to remove the stone. Perhaps some\nof them, remembering that their sweet young mistress Undine had\nordered it to be placed there, did not try very hard to lift it from\nits place. All at once, however, the stone began to move. It almost\nseemed as though it were being pushed up from beneath. It moved\nslowly, then seemed to rise up into the air, after which it rolled on\nto the pavement with a tremendous crash.\n\nThen slowly, slowly there rose out of the mouth of the well a white\nfigure, veiled and weeping. And those who gazed spellbound at the\nsight saw that the figure which stepped from the fountain was that of\na woman. Weeping and wringing her hands, she walked slowly,\nsorrowfully toward the castle.\n\nThe workmen now fled in terror from the court, while Bertalda with her\nmaids still gazed from her window at the pale shadowy figure. As it\npassed beneath her window it looked upward, sobbing pitifully, and\nthe bride saw under the veil the sweet sad face of the mistress of the\ncastle, Undine.\n\nBertalda called aloud to her maids to go fetch the knight, her\nhusband, but not one was found with courage to go in search of him.\n\nOn and on went the wanderer slowly, as though she would fain turn\nbackward, on and up the stairs she knew so well, through the long\nquiet passages, and as she walked her tears fell yet more fast.\n\nIn a room at the end of the long passages stood the knight. A torch\nburnt dully by his side. As he stood there thinking of the days that\nhad passed away for ever, he heard steps coming slowly along the\npassage. He listened, and, as he listened, the slow footsteps halted\noutside his door.\n\nSoft fingers tapped, and then very gently the door was opened, and\nHuldbrand, standing before a long mirror, saw, without turning, a\nwhite-veiled figure enter and close the door.\n\n'The stone has been taken away from the fountain, and I have come to\nyou and you must die,' said a soft voice.\n\nAh, it was Undine, his beautiful lost Undine, who had come back to\nhim. How he longed to see her face, yet how he feared to have the veil\nremoved lest she should have changed since last he gazed upon her.\n\n[Illustration: Slowly, slowly there rose out of the mouth of the well\na white figure]\n\n'If you are beauteous as in days gone by, if in your eyes I may see\nyour soul tender as of old, draw aside your veil, that as I die I may\ngaze upon you,' faltered the knight.\n\nSilently Undine threw back her veil, and Huldbrand saw her, fair as on\nthe day he had won her for his bride. As he looked upon her, he knew\nthat he had never loved any one in all the wide world as he loved\nUndine.\n\nHe bent toward the sweet face. Then Undine, kissing the knight, drew\nhim into her arms and wept. And as she wept the tears flowed into his\nvery heart and he also wept. Softly she laid him on his couch, and\nwith her arms around him, Huldbrand died.\n\nThen sorrowfully Undine raised herself from the couch, and sorrowfully\nshe passed from the chamber.\n\n'My tears fell on his heart until, for very sorrow, it broke,' she\nsaid, as she glided, a pale veiled figure, through the terrified\nservants.\n\nAnd some who dared to follow her saw that she went slowly down toward\nthe fountain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE BURIAL\n\n\nNow when Father Heilman heard that the knight was dead, he hastened to\nthe castle to comfort Bertalda. The priest, who but the day before had\nmarried the maiden to the knight, had already fled from the haunted\nhouse.\n\nBut Father Heilman found that the haughty spirit of the bride needed\nno comfort. She was more angry with Undine than sorrowful that she had\nlost the knight. Indeed, as she thought of the strange way in which\nHuldbrand had been snatched away from her, she cried aloud, 'Why did\nHuldbrand bring a water spirit to his home? She is worse than a\nmermaiden, she is a witch, a sorceress!'\n\nThen the old fisherman, who heard her cruel words, hushed her, saying,\n'It was God's will that Huldbrand should die, and Undine alone,\nforsaken, weeps for his death in great sorrow of soul.'\n\nBut if Father Heilman was not needed to comfort Bertalda, his presence\nwas wanted at the burial of the knight.\n\nNot far off there was a little village church to which the lord of\nRingstetten and others of his race had given gifts. It was arranged\nthat in the churchyard the knight should be laid to rest.\n\nHis shield and helmet were laid on his coffin and would be buried with\nhim, for the knight of Ringstetten had left no son to bear them in the\nyears that were to come.\n\nOn the day that had been fixed the mourners walked slowly toward the\nchurchyard, Father Heilman in front carrying a crucifix.\n\nThen slowly a figure clad in snow-white garments, and wringing her\nhands in great sorrow, came to join the mourners, who all wore black\nclothes as a sign of their grief. Those who noticed the white-veiled\nfigure drew closer together, terror-stricken. Others, seeing them thus\nfearful, turned to see the reason of their fear, and soon these too\ndrew aside, for the white-robed figure was in their very midst.\n\nSeeing the confusion among the mourners, some soldiers, trying to be\nbrave, as was their duty, spoke to the white-robed figure and even\ntried to drive her away. But she glided quickly past them and followed\nonward, still toward the little church.\n\nThe maids who were walking close to Bertalda saw that the white-veiled\nfigure would soon be by their side, and they, lest she should harm\nthem, drew back, so that it was easy for the shadowy form to keep\nclose to the new-made bride.\n\nSoftly, noiselessly she moved, so noiselessly that Bertalda neither\nheard nor saw the phantom figure.\n\nAt length the mourners reached the churchyard and gathered around the\ngrave. Then Bertalda, looking up, saw the white-veiled figure standing\nby her side, and knew that it was Undine.\n\nFear whispered to Bertalda to leave the veiled figure undisturbed,\nanger bade Bertalda order that it should at once depart. And anger was\ngoing to have its way, for Bertalda opened her lips to speak, but\nUndine shook her head and held out her hands as though she begged for\nmercy.\n\nThen Bertalda remembered all the kindness Undine had shown toward her,\nand especially how lovingly she had held out to her the coral\nnecklace as they were sailing on the Danube, and as she remembered her\nhard heart melted, and she wept.\n\nAt that moment Father Heilman began to pray, and all the mourners\nknelt around the grave, in which the coffin bearing the shield and\nhelmet of the knight had now been placed.\n\nWhen the prayer was ended the company arose, but the white-veiled\nfigure was no longer to be seen.\n\nOnly on the spot where she had knelt a stream of crystal water gushed\nout of the earth. Quietly it flowed around the grave of the knight and\nthen onward until it joined the river which ran past the little\nvillage church.\n\nAnd in days to come the villagers would ofttimes point to the crystal\nstream as they told their children in solemn whispers that it, the\nlittle crystal stream, was none other than Undine, poor forsaken\nUndine, who thus surrounded and protected Huldbrand, her beloved.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *","title":"Undine","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":22025}