CHAPTER 3

It may have happened to thee, my dear reader, after being much driven to

and fro in the world, to reach at length a spot where all was well with

thee. The love of home and of its peaceful joys, innate to all, again

sprang up in thy heart; thou thoughtest that thy home was decked with

all the flowers of childhood, and of that purest, deepest love which had

grown upon the graves of thy beloved, and that here it was good to live

and to build houses. Even if thou didst err, and hast had bitterly to

mourn thy error, it is nothing to my purpose, and thou thyself wilt

not like to dwell on the sad recollection. But recall those unspeakably

sweet feelings, that angelic greeting of peace, and thou wilt be able

to understand what was the happiness of the knight Huldbrand during his

abode on that narrow slip of land.

He frequently observed, with heartfelt satisfaction, that the forest

stream continued every day to swell and roll on with a more impetuous

sweep; and this forced him to prolong his stay on the island. Part of

the day he wandered about with an old cross-bow, which he found in a

corner of the cottage, and had repaired in order to shoot the waterfowl

that flew over; and all that he was lucky enough to hit he brought home

for a good roast in the kitchen. When he came in with his booty, Undine

seldom failed to greet him with a scolding, because he had cruelly

deprived the happy joyous little creatures of life as they were sporting

above in the blue ocean of the air; nay more, she often wept bitterly

when she viewed the water-fowl dead in his hand. But at other times,

when he returned without having shot any, she gave him a scolding

equally serious, since, owing to his carelessness and want of skill,

they must now put up with a dinner of fish. Her playful taunts ever

touched his heart with delight; the more so, as she generally strove to

make up for her pretended ill-humour with endearing caresses.

The old people saw with pleasure this familiarity of Undine and

Huldbrand; they looked upon them as betrothed, or even as married, and

living with them in their old age on their island, now torn off from the

mainland. The loneliness of his situation strongly impressed also

the young Huldbrand with the feeling that he was already Undine’s

bridegroom. It seemed to him as if, beyond those encompassing floods,

there were no other world in existence, or at any rate as if he could

never cross them, and again associate with the world of other men; and

when at times his grazing steed raised his head and neighed to him,

seemingly inquiring after his knightly achievements and reminding him

of them, or when his coat-of-arms sternly shone upon him from the

embroidery of his saddle and the caparisons of his horse, or when his

sword happened to fall from the nail on which it was hanging in the

cottage, and flashed on his eye as it slipped from the scabbard in its

fall, he quieted the doubts of his mind by saying to himself, “Undine

cannot be a fisherman’s daughter. She is, in all probability, a native

of some remote region, and a member of some illustrious family.”

There was one thing, indeed, to which he had a strong aversion: this

was to hear the old dame reproving Undine. The wild girl, it is true,

commonly laughed at the reproof, making no attempt to conceal the

extravagance of her mirth; but it appeared to him like touching his own

honour; and still he found it impossible to blame the aged wife of

the fisherman, since Undine always deserved at least ten times as

many reproofs as she received; so he continued to feel in his heart an

affectionate tenderness for the ancient mistress of the house, and his

whole life flowed on in the calm stream of contentment.

There came, however, an interruption at last. The fisherman and the

knight had been accustomed at dinner, and also in the evening when the

wind roared without, as it rarely failed to do towards night, to enjoy

together a flask of wine. But now their whole stock, which the fisherman

had from time to time brought with him from the city, was at last

exhausted, and they were both quite out of humour at the circumstance.

That day Undine laughed at them excessively, but they were not disposed

to join in her jests with the same gaiety as usual. Toward evening she

went out of the cottage, to escape, as she said, the sight of two such

long and tiresome faces.

While it was yet twilight, some appearances of a tempest seemed to be

again mustering in the sky, and the waves already heaved and roared

around them: the knight and the fisherman sprang to the door in terror,

to bring home the maiden, remembering the anguish of that night when

Huldbrand had first entered the cottage. But Undine met them at the same

moment, clapping her little hands in high glee.

“What will you give me,” she cried, “to provide you with wine? or

rather, you need not give me anything,” she continued; “for I am already

satisfied, if you look more cheerful, and are in better spirits, than

throughout this last most wearisome day. Only come with me; the forest

stream has driven ashore a cask; and I will be condemned to sleep

through a whole week, if it is not a wine-cask.”

The men followed her, and actually found, in a bushy cove of the shore,

a cask, which inspired them with as much joy as if they were sure it

contained the generous old wine for which they were thirsting. They

first of all, and with as much expedition as possible, rolled it toward

the cottage; for heavy clouds were again rising in the west, and they

could discern the waves of the lake in the fading light lifting their

white foaming heads, as if looking out for the rain, which threatened

every instant to pour upon them. Undine helped the men as much as she

was able; and as the shower, with a roar of wind, came suddenly sweeping

on in rapid pursuit, she raised her finger with a merry menace toward

the dark mass of clouds, and cried:

“You cloud, you cloud, have a care! beware how you wet us; we are some

way from shelter yet.”

The old man reproved her for this sally, as a sinful presumption;

but she laughed to herself softly, and no mischief came from her wild

behaviour. Nay more, what was beyond their expectation, they reached

their comfortable hearth unwet, with their prize secured; but the cask

had hardly been broached, and proved to contain wine of a remarkably

fine flavour, when the rain first poured down unrestrained from the

black cloud, the tempest raved through the tops of the trees, and swept

far over the billows of the deep.

Having immediately filled several bottles from the cask, which promised

them a supply for a long time, they drew round the glowing hearth; and,

comfortably secured from the tempest, they sat tasting the flavour of

their wine and bandying jests.

But the old fisherman suddenly became extremely grave, and said: “Ah,

great God! here we sit, rejoicing over this rich gift, while he to

whom it first belonged, and from whom it was wrested by the fury of the

stream, must there also, it is more than probable, have lost his life.”

“No such thing,” said Undine, smiling, as she filled the knight’s cup to

the brim.

But he exclaimed: “By my unsullied honour, old father, if I knew where

to find and rescue him, no fear of exposure to the night, nor any peril,

should deter me from making the attempt. At least, I can promise you

that if I again reach an inhabited country, I will find out the owner of

this wine or his heirs, and make double and triple reimbursement.”

The old man was gratified with this assurance; he gave the knight a nod

of approbation, and now drained his cup with an easier conscience and

more relish.

Undine, however, said to Huldbrand: “As to the repayment and your gold,

you may do whatever you like. But what you said about your venturing

out, and searching, and exposing yourself to danger, appears to me far

from wise. I should cry my very eyes out, should you perish in such a

wild attempt; and is it not true that you would prefer staying here with

me and the good wine?”

“Most assuredly,” answered Huldbrand, smiling.

“Then, you see,” replied Undine, “you spoke unwisely. For charity begins

at home; and why need we trouble ourselves about our neighbours?”

The mistress of the house turned away from her, sighing and shaking

her head; while the fisherman forgot his wonted indulgence toward the

graceful maiden, and thus rebuked her:

“That sounds exactly as if you had been brought up by heathens and

Turks;” and he finished his reproof by adding, “May God forgive both me

and you--unfeeling child!”

“Well, say what you will, that is what I think and feel,” replied

Undine, “whoever brought me up; and all your talking cannot help it.”

“Silence!” exclaimed the fisherman, in a voice of stern rebuke; and she,

who with all her wild spirit was extremely alive to fear, shrank from

him, moved close up to Huldbrand, trembling, and said very softly:

“Are you also angry, dear friend?”

The knight pressed her soft hand, and tenderly stroked her locks. He

was unable to utter a word, for his vexation, arising from the old man’s

severity towards Undine, closed his lips; and thus the two couples sat

opposite to each other, at once heated with anger and in embarrassed

silence.

In the midst of this stillness a low knocking at the door startled them

all; for there are times when a slight circumstance, coming unexpectedly

upon us, startles us like something supernatural. But there was the

further source of alarm, that the enchanted forest lay so near them, and

that their place of abode seemed at present inaccessible to any human

being. While they were looking upon one another in doubt, the knocking

was again heard, accompanied with a deep groan. The knight sprang to

seize his sword. But the old man said, in a low whisper:

“If it be what I fear it is, no weapon of yours can protect us.”

Undine in the meanwhile went to the door, and cried with the firm voice

of fearless displeasure: “Spirits of the earth! if mischief be your aim,

Kuhleborn shall teach you better manners.”

The terror of the rest was increased by this wild speech; they looked

fearfully upon the girl, and Huldbrand was just recovering presence

of mind enough to ask what she meant, when a voice reached them from

without:

“I am no spirit of the earth, though a spirit still in its earthly body.

You that are within the cottage there, if you fear God and would afford

me assistance, open your door to me.”

By the time these words were spoken, Undine had already opened it; and

the lamp throwing a strong light upon the stormy night, they perceived

an aged priest without, who stepped back in terror, when his eye fell on

the unexpected sight of a little damsel of such exquisite beauty. Well

might he think there must be magic in the wind and witchcraft at work,

when a form of such surpassing loveliness appeared at the door of so

humble a dwelling. So he lifted up his voice in prayer:

“Let all good spirits praise the Lord God!”

“I am no spectre,” said Undine, with a smile. “Do I look so very

frightful? And you see that I do not shrink from holy words. I too have

knowledge of God, and understand the duty of praising Him; every one, to

be sure, has his own way of doing this, for so He has created us. Come

in, father; you will find none but worthy people here.”

The holy man came bowing in, and cast round a glance of scrutiny,

wearing at the same time a very placid and venerable air. But water was

dropping from every fold of his dark garments, from his long white beard

and the white locks of his hair. The fisherman and the knight took him

to another apartment, and furnished him with a change of raiment, while

they gave his own clothes to the women to dry. The aged stranger thanked

them in a manner the most humble and courteous; but on the knight’s

offering him his splendid cloak to wrap round him, he could not be

persuaded to take it, but chose instead an old grey coat that belonged

to the fisherman.

They then returned to the common apartment. The mistress of the house

immediately offered her great chair to the priest, and continued urging

it upon him till she saw him fairly in possession of it. “You are old

and exhausted,” said she, “and are, moreover, a man of God.”

Undine shoved under the stranger’s feet her little stool, on which at

all other times she used to sit near to Huldbrand, and showed herself

most gentle and amiable towards the old man. Huldbrand whispered some

raillery in her ear, but she replied, gravely:

“He is a minister of that Being who created us all; and holy things are

not to be treated with lightness.”

The knight and the fisherman now refreshed the priest with food and

wine; and when he had somewhat recovered his strength and spirits, he

began to relate how he had the day before set out from his cloister,

which was situated far off beyond the great lake, in order to visit the

bishop, and acquaint him with the distress into which the cloister and

its tributary villages had fallen, owing to the extraordinary floods.

After a long and wearisome wandering, on account of the rise of the

waters, he had been this day compelled toward evening to procure the

aid of a couple of boatmen, and cross over an arm of the lake which had

burst its usual boundary.

“But hardly,” continued he, “had our small ferry-boat touched the waves,

when that furious tempest burst forth which is still raging over our

heads. It seemed as if the billows had been waiting our approach only to

rush on us with a madness the more wild. The oars were wrested from the

grasp of my men in an instant; and shivered by the resistless force,

they drove farther and farther out before us upon the waves. Unable to

direct our course, we yielded to the blind power of nature, and seemed

to fly over the surges toward your distant shore, which we already saw

looming through the mist and foam of the deep. Then it was at last that

our boat turned short from its course, and rocked with a motion that

became more wild and dizzy: I know not whether it was overset, or the

violence of the motion threw me overboard. In my agony and struggle at

the thought of a near and terrible death, the waves bore me onward, till

I was cast ashore here beneath the trees of your island.”

“Yes, an island!” cried the fisherman; “a short time ago it was only a

point of land. But now, since the forest stream and lake have become all

but mad, it appears to be entirely changed.”

“I observed something of it,” replied the priest, “as I stole along the

shore in the obscurity; and hearing nothing around me but a sort of wild

uproar, I perceived at last that the noise came from a point exactly

where a beaten footpath disappeared. I now caught the light in your

cottage, and ventured hither, where I cannot sufficiently thank my

Heavenly Father that, after preserving me from the waters, He has also

conducted me to such pious people as you are; and the more so, as it is

difficult to say whether I shall ever behold any other persons in this

world except you four.”

“What mean you by those words?” asked the fisherman.

“Can you tell me, then, how long this commotion of the elements will

last?” replied the priest. “I am old; the stream of my life may easily

sink into the ground and vanish before the overflowing of that forest

stream shall subside. And, indeed, it is not impossible that more and

more of the foaming waters may rush in between you and yonder forest,

until you are so far removed from the rest of the world, that your small

fishing-canoe may be incapable of passing over, and the inhabitants of

the continent entirely forget you in your old age amid the dissipation

and diversions of life.”

At this melancholy foreboding the old lady shrank back with a feeling of

alarm, crossed herself, and cried, “God forbid!”

But the fisherman looked upon her with a smile and said, “What a strange

being is man! Suppose the worst to happen; our state would not be

different; at any rate, your own would not, dear wife, from what it is

at present. For have you, these many years, been farther from home than

the border of the forest? And have you seen a single human being beside

Undine and myself? It is now only a short time since the coming of the

knight and the priest. They will remain with us, even if we do become a

forgotten island; so after all you will be a gainer.”

“I know not,” replied the ancient dame; “it is a dismal thought, when

brought fairly home to the mind, that we are for ever separated from

mankind, even though in fact we never do know nor see them.”

“Then YOU will remain with us--then you will remain with us!” whispered

Undine, in a voice scarcely audible and half singing, while she nestled

closer to Huldbrand’s side. But he was immersed in the deep and strange

musings of his own mind. The region, on the farther side of the

forest river, seemed, since the last words of the priest, to have been

withdrawing farther and farther, in dim perspective, from his view; and

the blooming island on which he lived grew green and smiled more freshly

in his fancy. His bride glowed like the fairest rose, not of this

obscure nook only, but even of the whole wide world; and the priest was

now present.

Added to which, the mistress of the family was directing an angry glance

at Undine, because, even in the presence of the priest, she leant

so fondly on the knight; and it seemed as if she was on the point

of breaking out in harsh reproof. Then burst forth from the mouth of

Huldbrand, as he turned to the priest, “Father, you here see before you

an affianced pair; and if this maiden and these good old people have no

objection, you shall unite us this very evening.”

The aged couple were both exceedingly surprised. They had often, it is

true, thought of this, but as yet they had never mentioned it; and now,

when the knight spoke, it came upon them like something wholly new and

unexpected. Undine became suddenly grave, and looked down thoughtfully,

while the priest made inquiries respecting the circumstances of their

acquaintance, and asked the old people whether they gave their consent

to the union. After a great number of questions and answers, the affair

was arranged to the satisfaction of all; and the mistress of the house

went to prepare the bridal apartment of the young couple, and also,

with a view to grace the nuptial solemnity, to seek for two consecrated

tapers, which she had for a long time kept by her, for this occasion.

The knight in the meanwhile busied himself about his golden chain,

for the purpose of disengaging two of its links, that he might make

an exchange of rings with his bride. But when she saw his object, she

started from her trance of musing, and exclaimed--

“Not so! my parents by no means sent me into the world so perfectly

destitute; on the contrary, they foresaw, even at that early period,

that such a night as this would come.”

Thus speaking she went out of the room, and a moment after returned with

two costly rings, of which she gave one to her bridegroom, and kept the

other for herself. The old fisherman was beyond measure astonished at

this; and his wife, who was just re-entering the room, was even more

surprised than he, that neither of them had ever seen these jewels in

the child’s possession.

“My parents,” said Undine, “sewed these trinkets to that beautiful

raiment which I wore the very day I came to you. They also charged me

on no account whatever to mention them to any one before my wedding

evening. At the time of my coming, therefore, I took them off in secret,

and have kept them concealed to the present hour.”

The priest now cut short all further questioning and wondering, while he

lighted the consecrated tapers, placed them on a table, and ordered the

bridal pair to stand opposite to him. He then pronounced the few solemn

words of the ceremony, and made them one. The elder couple gave the

younger their blessing; and the bride, gently trembling and thoughtful,

leaned upon the knight.

The priest then spoke out: “You are strange people, after all; for why

did you tell me that you were the only inhabitants of the island? So far

is this from being true, I have seen, the whole time I was performing

the ceremony, a tall, stately man, in a white mantle, standing opposite

to me, looking in at the window. He must be still waiting before the

door, if peradventure you would invite him to come in.”

“God forbid!” cried the old lady, shrinking back; the fisherman shook

his head, without opening his lips; and Huldbrand sprang to the window.

It seemed to him that he could still discern a white streak, which soon

disappeared in the gloom. He convinced the priest that he must have

been mistaken in his impression; and they all sat down together round a

bright and comfortable hearth.