CHAPTER 5

Next morning, when Huldbrand awoke from slumber, and perceived that his

beautiful wife was not by his side, he began to give way again to

his wild imaginations--that his marriage, and even the lovely Undine

herself, were only shadows without substance--only mere illusions of

enchantment. But she entered the door at the same moment, kissed him,

seated herself on the bed by his side, and said:

“I have been out somewhat early this morning, to see whether my uncle

keeps his word. He has already restored the waters of the flood to

his own calm channel, and he now flows through the forest a rivulet as

before, in a lonely and dreamlike current. His friends, too, both of

the water and the air, have resumed their usual peaceful tenor; all will

again proceed with order and tranquillity; and you can travel homeward,

without fear of the flood, whenever you choose.”

It seemed to the mind of Huldbrand that he must be in some waking dream,

so little was he able to understand the nature of his wife’s strange

relative. Notwithstanding this he made no remark upon what she had

told him, and her surpassing loveliness soon lulled every misgiving and

discomfort to rest.

Some time afterwards, while he was standing with her before the door,

and surveying the verdant point of land, with its boundary of bright

waters, such a feeling of bliss came over him in this cradle of his

love, that he exclaimed:

“Shall we, then, so early as to-day, begin our journey? Why should

we? It is probable that abroad in the world we shall find no days more

delightful than those we have spent in this green isle so secret and so

secure. Let us yet see the sun go down here two or three times more.”

“Just as my lord wills,” replied Undine meekly. “Only we must remember,

that my foster-parents will, at all events, see me depart with pain; and

should they now, for the first time, discover the true soul in me, and

how fervently I can now love and honour them, their feeble eyes would

surely become blind with weeping. As yet they consider my present

quietness and gentleness as of no better promise than they were

formerly--like the calm of the lake just while the air remains

tranquil--and they will learn soon to cherish a little tree or flower as

they have cherished me. Let me not, then, make known to them this newly

bestowed, this loving heart, at the very moment they must lose it for

this world; and how could I conceal what I have gained, if we continued

longer together?”

Huldbrand yielded to her representation, and went to the aged couple to

confer with them respecting his journey, on which he proposed to set out

that very hour. The priest offered himself as a companion to the young

married pair; and, after taking a short farewell, he held the bridle,

while the knight lifted his beautiful wife upon his horse; and with

rapid steps they crossed the dry channel with her toward the forest.

Undine wept in silent but intense emotion; the old people, as she

moved away, were more clamorous in the expression of their grief. They

appeared to feel, at the moment of separation, all that they were losing

in their affectionate foster-daughter.

The three travellers had reached the thickest shades of the forest

without interchanging a word. It must have been a fair sight, in that

hall of leafy verdure, to see this lovely woman’s form sitting on the

noble and richly-ornamented steed, on her left hand the venerable priest

in the white garb of his order, on her right the blooming young knight,

clad in splendid raiment of scarlet, gold, and violet, girt with a sword

that flashed in the sun, and attentively walking beside her. Huldbrand

had no eyes but for his wife; Undine, who had dried her tears of

tenderness, had no eyes but for him; and they soon entered into the

still and voiceless converse of looks and gestures, from which, after

some time, they were awakened by the low discourse which the priest

was holding with a fourth traveller, who had meanwhile joined them

unobserved.

He wore a white gown, resembling in form the dress of the priest’s

order, except that his hood hung very low over his face, and that the

whole drapery floated in such wide folds around him as obliged him every

moment to gather it up and throw it over his arm, or by some management

of this sort to get it out of his way, and still it did not seem in the

least to impede his movements. When the young couple became aware of his

presence, he was saying:

“And so, venerable sir, many as have been the years I have dwelt here in

this forest, I have never received the name of hermit in your sense of

the word. For, as I said before, I know nothing of penance, and I think,

too, that I have no particular need of it. Do you ask me why I am so

attached to the forest? It is because its scenery is so peculiarly

picturesque, and affords me so much pastime when, in my floating white

garments, I pass through its world of leaves and dusky shadows;--and

when a sweet sunbeam glances down upon me at times unexpectedly.”

“You are a very singular man,” replied the priest, “and I should like to

have a more intimate acquaintance with you.”

“And who, then, may you be yourself, to pass from one thing to another?”

inquired the stranger.

“I am called Father Heilmann,” answered the holy man; “and I am from the

cloister of Our Lady of the Salutation, beyond the lake.”

“Well, well,” replied the stranger, “my name is Kuhleborn; and were I

a stickler for the nice distinctions of rank, I might, with equal

propriety, require you to give me the title of noble lord of Kuhleborn,

or free lord of Kuhleborn; for I am as free as the birds in the forest,

and, it may be, a trifle more so. For example, I now have something to

tell that young lady there.” And before they were aware of his purpose,

he was on the other side of the priest, close to Undine, and stretching

himself high into the air, in order to whisper something in her ear. But

she shrank from him in terror, and exclaimed:

“I have nothing more to do with you.”

“Ho, ho,” cried the stranger with a laugh, “you have made a grand

marriage indeed, since you no longer know your own relations! Have you

no recollection, then, of your uncle Kuhleborn, who so faithfully bore

you on his back to this region?”

“However that may be,” replied Undine, “I entreat you never to appear in

my presence again. I am now afraid of you; and will not my husband fear

and forsake me, if he sees me associate with such strange company and

kindred?”

“You must not forget, my little niece,” said Kuhleborn, “that I am with

you here as a guide; otherwise those madcap spirits of the earth, the

gnomes that haunt this forest, would play you some of their mischievous

pranks. Let me therefore still accompany you in peace. Even the old

priest there had a better recollection of me than you have; for he just

now assured me that I seemed to be very familiar to him, and that I must

have been with him in the ferry-boat, out of which he tumbled into

the waves. He certainly did see me there; for I was no other than the

water-spout that tore him out of it, and kept him from sinking, while I

safely wafted him ashore to your wedding.”

Undine and the knight turned their eyes upon Father Heilmann; but he

appeared to be moving forward, just as if he were dreaming or walking

in his sleep, and no longer to be conscious of a word that was spoken.

Undine then said to Kuhleborn: “I already see yonder the end of the

forest. We have no further need of your assistance, and nothing now

gives us alarm but yourself. I therefore beseech you, by our mutual love

and good-will, to vanish, and allow us to proceed in peace.”

Kuhleborn seemed to become angry at this: he darted a frightful look at

Undine, and grinned fiercely upon her. She shrieked aloud, and called

her husband to protect her. The knight sprang round the horse as quick

as lightning, and, brandishing his sword, struck at Kuhleborn’s head.

But instead of severing it from his body, the sword merely flashed

through a torrent, which rushed foaming near them from a lofty cliff;

and with a splash, which much resembled in sound a burst of laughter,

the stream all at once poured upon them and gave them a thorough

wetting. The priest, as if suddenly awakening from a trance, coolly

observed: “This is what I have been some time expecting, because the

brook has descended from the steep so close beside us--though at first

sight, indeed, it appeared to resemble a man, and to possess the power

of speech.”

As the waterfall came rushing from its crag, it distinctly uttered these

words in Huldbrand’s ear: “Rash knight! valiant knight! I am not angry

with you; I have no quarrel with you; only continue to defend your

lovely little wife with the same spirit, you bold knight! you valiant

champion!”

After advancing a few steps farther, the travellers came out upon open

ground. The imperial city lay bright before them; and the evening sun,

which gilded its towers with gold, kindly dried their garments that had

been so completely drenched.

The sudden disappearance of the young knight, Huldbrand of Ringstetten,

had occasioned much remark in the imperial city, and no small concern

amongst those who, as well on account of his expertness in tourney and

dance, as of his mild and amiable manners, had become attached to him.

His attendants were unwilling to quit the place without their master,

although not a soul of them had been courageous enough to follow him

into the fearful recesses of the forest. They remained, therefore, at

the hostelry, idly hoping, as men are wont to do, and keeping the fate

of their lost lord fresh in remembrance by their lamentations.

Now when the violent storms and floods had been observed immediately

after his departure, the destruction of the handsome stranger became

all but certain; even Bertalda had openly discovered her sorrow, and

detested herself for having been the cause of his taking that fatal

excursion into the forest. Her foster-parents, the duke and duchess, had

meanwhile come to take her away; but Bertalda persuaded them to remain

with her until some certain news of Huldbrand should be obtained,

whether he were living or dead. She endeavoured also to prevail upon

several young knights, who were assiduous in courting her favour, to

go in quest of the noble adventurer in the forest. But she refused

to pledge her hand as the reward of the enterprise, because she still

cherished, it might be, a hope of its being claimed by the returning

knight; and no one would consent, for a glove, a riband, or even a kiss,

to expose his life to bring back so very dangerous a rival.

When Huldbrand now made his sudden and unexpected appearance, his

attendants, the inhabitants of the city, and almost every one rejoiced.

This was not the case with Bertalda; for although it might be quite

a welcome event to others that he brought with him a wife of such

exquisite loveliness, and Father Heilmann as a witness of their

marriage, Bertalda could not but view the affair with grief and

vexation. She had, in truth, become attached to the young knight with

her whole soul; and her mourning for his absence, or supposed death, had

shown this more than she could now have wished.

But notwithstanding all this, she conducted herself like a wise maiden

in circumstances of such delicacy, and lived on the most friendly

terms with Undine, whom the whole city looked upon as a princess that

Huldbrand had rescued in the forest from some evil enchantment. Whenever

any one questioned either herself or her husband relative to surmises of

this nature, they had wisdom enough to remain silent, or wit enough

to evade the inquiries. The lips of Father Heilmann had been sealed

in regard to idle gossip of every kind; and besides, on Huldbrand’s

arrival, he had immediately returned to his cloister: so that people

were obliged to rest contented with their own wild conjectures; and even

Bertalda herself ascertained nothing more of the truth than others.

For the rest, Undine daily felt more love for the fair maiden. “We must

have been before acquainted with each other,” she often used to say to

her, “or else there must be some mysterious connection between us,

for it is incredible that any one so perfectly without cause--I mean,

without some deep and secret cause--should be so fondly attached to

another as I have been to you from the first moment of our meeting.”

And even Bertalda could not deny that she felt a confiding impulse,

an attraction of tenderness toward Undine, much as she deemed this

fortunate rival the cause of her bitterest disappointment. Under the

influence of this mutual regard, they found means to persuade, the

one her foster-parents, and the other her husband, to defer the day of

separation to a period more and more remote; nay, more, they had already

begun to talk of a plan for Bertalda’s accompanying Undine to Castle

Ringstetten, near one of the sources of the Danube.

Once on a fine evening they happened to be talking over their scheme

just as they passed the high trees that bordered the public walk.

The young married pair, though it was somewhat late, had called upon

Bertalda to invite her to share their enjoyment; and all three proceeded

familiarly up and down beneath the dark blue heaven, not seldom

interrupted in their converse by the admiration which they could not but

bestow upon the magnificent fountain in the middle of the square, and

upon the wonderful rush and shooting upward of its waters. All was sweet

and soothing to their minds. Among the shadows of the trees stole in

glimmerings of light from the adjacent houses (sic). A low murmur as

of children at play, and of other persons who were enjoying their walk,

floated around them--they were so alone, and yet sharing so much of

social happiness in the bright and stirring world, that whatever had

appeared rough by day now became smooth of its own accord. All the three

friends could no longer see the slightest cause for hesitation in regard

to Bertalda’s taking the journey.

At that instant, while they were just fixing the day of their departure,

a tall man approached them from the middle of the square, bowed

respectfully to the company, and spoke something in the young bride’s

ear. Though displeased with the interruption and its cause, she walked

aside a few steps with the stranger; and both began to whisper, as it

seemed, in a foreign tongue. Huldbrand thought he recognized the strange

man of the forest, and he gazed upon him so fixedly, that he neither

heard nor answered the astonished inquiries of Bertalda. All at

once Undine clapped her hands with delight, and turned back from the

stranger, laughing: he, frequently shaking his head, retired with

a hasty step and discontented air, and descended into the fountain.

Huldbrand now felt perfectly certain that his conjecture was correct.

But Bertalda asked:

“What, then, dear Undine, did the master of the fountain wish to say to

you?”

Undine laughed within herself, and made answer: “The day after

to-morrow, my dear child, when the anniversary of your name-day returns,

you shall be informed.” And this was all she could be prevailed upon to

disclose. She merely asked Bertalda to dinner on the appointed day, and

requested her to invite her foster-parents; and soon afterwards they

separated.

“Kuhleborn?” said Huldbrand to his lovely wife, with an inward shudder

when they had taken leave of Bertalda, and were now going home through

the darkening streets.

“Yes, it was he,” answered Undine; “and he would have wearied me

with his foolish warnings. But, in the midst, quite contrary to his

intentions, he delighted me with a most welcome piece of news. If you,

my dear lord and husband, wish me to acquaint you with it now, you

need only command me, and I will freely and from my heart tell you all

without reserve. But would you confer upon your Undine a very, very

great pleasure, wait till the day after to-morrow, and then you too

shall have your share of the surprise.”

The knight was quite willing to gratify his wife in what she had asked

so sweetly. And even as she was falling asleep, she murmured to herself,

with a smile: “How she will rejoice and be astonished at what her master

of the fountain has told me!--dear, dear Bertalda!”