CHAPTER 10
Father Heilmann had returned to the castle as soon as the death of the
lord of Ringstetten was made known in the neighbourhood; and he arrived
at the very hour when the monk who had married the unfortunate couple
was hurrying from the door, overcome with dismay and horror.
When Father Heilmann was informed of this, he replied, “It is all well;
and now come the duties of my office, in which I have no need of an
assistant.”
He then began to console the bride, now a widow though with little
benefit to her worldly and thoughtless spirit.
The old fisherman, on the other hand, though severely afflicted, was
far more resigned to the fate of his son-in-law and daughter; and while
Bertalda could not refrain from accusing Undine as a murderess and
sorceress, the old man calmly said, “After all, it could not happen
otherwise. I see nothing in it but the judgment of God; and no one’s
heart was more pierced by the death of Huldbrand than she who was
obliged to work it, the poor forsaken Undine!”
He then assisted in arranging the funeral solemnities as suited the
rank of the deceased. The knight was to be interred in the village
church-yard, in whose consecrated ground were the graves of his
ancestors; a place which they, as well as himself, had endowed with rich
privileges and gifts. His shield and helmet lay upon his coffin, ready
to be lowered with it into the grave, for Lord Huldbrand of Ringstetten
had died the last of his race. The mourners began their sorrowful march,
chanting their melancholy songs beneath the calm unclouded heaven;
Father Heilmann preceded the procession, bearing a high crucifix, while
the inconsolable Bertalda followed, supported by her aged father.
Then they suddenly saw in the midst of the mourning females in the
widow’s train, a snow-white figure closely veiled, and wringing its
hands in the wild vehemence of sorrow. Those next to whom it moved,
seized with a secret dread, started back or on one side; and owing to
their movements, the others, next to whom the white stranger now came,
were terrified still more, so as to produce confusion in the funeral
train. Some of the military escort ventured to address the figure, and
attempt to remove it from the procession, but it seemed to vanish from
under their hands, and yet was immediately seen advancing again, with
slow and solemn step, among the followers of the body. At last, in
consequence of the shrinking away of the attendants, it came close
behind Bertalda. It now moved so slowly, that the widow was not aware of
its presence, and it walked meekly and humbly behind her undisturbed.
This continued until they came to the church-yard, where the procession
formed a circle round the open grave. Then it was that Bertalda
perceived her unbidden companion, and, half in anger and half in terror,
she commanded her to depart from the knight’s place of final rest. But
the veiled female, shaking her head with a gentle denial, raised her
hands towards Bertalda in lowly supplication, by which she was greatly
moved, and could not but remember with tears how Undine had shown such
sweetness of spirit on the Danube when she held out to her the coral
necklace.
Father Heilmann now motioned with his hand, and gave order for all to
observe perfect stillness, that they might breathe a prayer of silent
devotion over the body, upon which earth had already been thrown.
Bertalda knelt without speaking; and all knelt, even the grave-diggers,
who had now finished their work. But when they arose, the white stranger
had disappeared. On the spot where she had knelt, a little spring, of
silver brightness, was gushing out from the green turf, and it kept
swelling and flowing onward with a low murmur, till it almost encircled
the mound of the knight’s grave; it then continued its course,
and emptied itself into a calm lake, which lay by the side of the
consecrated ground. Even to this day, the inhabitants of the village
point out the spring; and hold fast the belief that it is the poor
deserted Undine, who in this manner still fondly encircles her beloved
in her arms.