he accordingly began a canticle, "All good spirits give praise to the
Lord!"

"I am no ghost," said Undine, smiling; "am I so frightful to behold?
And you may see that a pious saying has no terrors for me. I worship
God, too, and praise Him after my own fashion; He has not created us
all alike. Come in, venerable father; you will find worthy folks
here."

The holy man walked in, bowing and casting his eyes around, and
looking most mild and venerable. Every fold of his dark garment was
dripping with water, and so were his long white beard and hoary locks.
The Fisherman and the Knight led him to a bedroom, and gave him change
of clothing, while the women dried his wet garments by the hearth
fire. The aged stranger thanked them with all humility and gentleness,
but would by no means accept of the Knight's splendid mantle, which he
offered him; he chose himself an old gray wrapper of the Fisherman's
instead. So they returned to the kitchen; the dame up gave her own
arm-chair to the Priest, and had no peace till he sat himself down on
it: "For," said she, "you are old and weary, and a priest besides."
Undine pushed her little footstool toward the good man's feet, and
altogether behaved to him quite properly and gracefully. Huldbrand
took notice of this, in a playful whisper; but she answered very
gravely: "Because he is a servant of the Maker of us all; that is too
serious for a jest."

Meantime the two men set meat and wine before their guest, and when he
had recruited his strength a little, he began his story; saying that
the day before he had left his monastery, which was a good way off
beyond the lake, intending to visit the bishop at his palace, and
report to him the distress which these almost supernatural floods had
caused the monks and their poor tenantry. After going round a long
way, to avoid these floods, he had been obliged toward evening to
cross an arm of the overflowing lake, with the help of two honest
sailors. "But," added he, "no sooner had our little vessel touched the
waves, than we were wrapped in the tremendous storm, which is still
raging over our heads now. It looked as if the waters had only awaited
our coming to give a loose to their fury. The oars were soon dashed
from the seamen's hands, and we saw their broken fragments carried
further and further from us by the waves. We floated on the wave tops,
helpless, driven by the furious tempest toward your shores, which we
saw in the distance whenever the clouds parted for a moment. The boat
was tossed about still more wildly and giddily: and whether it upset,
or I fell out, I cannot tell. I floated on, till a wave landed me at
the foot of a tree, in this your island."

"Ay, island indeed!" said the Fisherman. "It was a promontory but a
short time ago. But, since the stream and our lake are gone raving mad
together, everything about us is new and strange."

The Priest continued: "As I crept along the water-side in the dark,
with a wild uproar around me, something caught my eye, and presently I
descried a beaten pathway, which was soon lost in the shades; I spied
the light in your cottage, and ventured to come hither; and I cannot
sufficiently thank my heavenly Father, who has not only delivered me
from the waters, but guided me to such kind souls. I feel this
blessing the more, as it is very likely I may never see any faces but
yours again." - "How so?" asked the fisherman. "Can you guess how long
this fury of the elements may last?" replied the Priest. "And I am an
old man. My stream of life may perhaps lose itself in the earth,
before these floods subside. And besides, it may be the foaming waters
will divide you from the forest more and more, till you are unable to
get across in your fishing boat; and the people of the mainland, full
of their own concerns, would quite forget you in your retreat."

Shuddering, and crossing herself, the Fisherman's wife exclaimed, "God
forbid!" But the old man smiled at her, and said, "What creatures we
are. That would make no difference, to you at least, my dear wife. How
many years is it since you have set foot within the forest? And have
you seen any face but Undine's and mine? Lately, indeed, we have had
the good Knight and Priest besides. But they would stay with us; so
that if we are forgotten in this island, you will be the gainer."

"So I see," said the dame; "yet somehow, it is cheerless to feel
ourselves quite cut off from the rest of the world, however seldom we
had seen it before."

"Then _you_ will stay with us!" murmured Undine in a sweet voice, and
she pressed closer to Huldbrand's side. But he was lost in deep
thought. Since the Priest had last spoken, the land beyond the wild
stream had seemed to his fancy more dark and distant than ever; while
the flowery island he lived in - and his bride, the fairest flower in
the picture - bloomed and smiled more and more freshly in his
imagination. Here was the Priest at hand to unite them; - and, to
complete his resolution, the old dame just then darted a reproving
look at Undine, for clinging to her lover's side in the holy man's
presence; an angry lecture seemed on the point of beginning. He turned
toward the Priest, and these words burst from him: "You see before
you a betrothed pair, reverend sir; if this damsel and the kind old
people will consent, you shall unite us this very evening."

The old folks were much surprised. Such a thought had often crossed
their minds, but they had never till this moment heard it uttered; and
it now fell upon their ears like an unexpected thing. Undine had
suddenly become quite grave, and sat musing deeply, while the Priest
inquired into various circumstances, and asked the old couple's
consent to the deed. After some deliberation, they gave it; the dame
went away to prepare the young people's bridal chamber, and to fetch
from her stores two consecrated tapers for the wedding ceremony.
Meanwhile the Knight was pulling two rings off his gold chain for
himself and his bride to exchange. But this roused Undine from her
reverie, and she said: "Stay! my parents did not send me into the
world quite penniless; they looked forward long ago to this occasion
and provided for it." She quickly withdrew, and returned bringing two
costly rings, one of which she gave to her betrothed and kept the
other herself. This astonished the old Fisherman, and still more his
wife, who came in soon after; for they neither of them had ever seen
these jewels about the child. "My parents," said Undine, "had these
rings sewed into the gay dress which I wore, when first I came to you.
They charged me to let no one know of them till my wedding-day came.
Therefore I took them secretly out of the dress, and have kept them
hidden till this evening."

Here the Priest put a stop to the conversation, by lighting the holy
tapers, placing them on the table, and calling the young pair to him.
With few and solemn words he joined their hands; the aged couple gave
their blessing, while the bride leaned upon her husband, pensive and
trembling.

When it was over, the Priest said: "You are strange people after all!
What did you mean by saying you were the only inhabitants of this
island? During the whole ceremony there was a fine-looking tall man,
in a white cloak, standing just outside the window opposite me. He
must be near the door still, if you like to invite him in." - "Heaven
forbid!" said the dame shuddering; the old man shook his head without
speaking; and Huldbrand rushed to the window. He could fancy he saw a
streak of white, but it was soon lost in darkness. So he assured the
Priest he must have been mistaken; and they all sat down comfortably
round the fire.


VII. - HOW THE REST OF THE EVENING PASSED AWAY

Undine had been perfectly quiet and well-behaved both before and
during the marriage ceremony; but now her wild spirits seemed the more
uncontrollable from the restraint they had undergone, and rose to an
extravagant height. She played all manner of childish tricks on her
husband, her foster parents, and even the venerable Priest, and when
the old woman began to check her, one or two words from Huldbrand, who
gravely called Undine "his wife," reduced her to silence. The Knight
himself, however, was far from being pleased at Undine's childishness;
but no hint or sign would stop her. Whenever she perceived his
disapproving looks - which she occasionally did - it subdued her for the
moment; she would sit down by him, whisper something playfully in his
ear, and so dispel the frown as it gathered on his brow. But the next
instant some wild nonsense would dart into her head, and set her off
worse than ever. At last the Priest said to her, in a kind but grave
manner, "My dear young lady, no one that beholds you can be severe
upon you, it is true; but remember, it is your duty to keep watch over
your soul, that it may be ever in harmony with that of your wedded
husband." "Soul!" cried Undine, laughing; "that sounds very fine, and
for most people may be very edifying and moral advice. But if one has
no soul at all, pray how is one to keep watch over it? And that is my
case." The Priest was deeply hurt, and turned away his face in mingled
sorrow and anger. But she came up to him beseechingly, and said, "Nay,
hear me before you are angry, for it grieves me to see you displeased,
and you would not distress any creature who has done you no harm. Only
have patience with me, and I will tell you all, from the beginning."

They saw she was preparing to give them a regular history; but she
stopped short, appearing thrilled by some secret recollection, and
burst into a flood of gentle tears. They were quite at a loss what to
think of her, and gazed upon her, distressed from various causes. At
length drying her eyes, she looked at the Priest earnestly and said,
"There must be much to love in a soul, but much that is awful too. For
God's sake, holy father, tell me - were it not better to be still
without one?" She waited breathlessly for an answer, restraining her
tears. Her hearers had all risen from their seats, and now stepped
back from her, shuddering. She seemed to have no eyes but for the
saintly man; her countenance assumed an expression of anxiety and awe
which yet more alarmed the others. "Heavy must be the burden of a
soul," added she, as no one answered her - "heavy indeed! for the mere
approach of mine over-shadows me with anxious melancholy. And ah! how
light-hearted, how joyous I used to be!" A fresh burst of weeping
overcame her, and she covered her face with her veil.

The Priest then approached her with much gravity, and adjured her by
the holiest names to confess the truth, if any evil lurked in her,
unknown to them. But she fell on her knees before him, repeated after
him all his words of piety, gave praise to God, and declared she was
in charity with all the world. The Priest turned to the young Knight.
"Sir bridegroom," said he, "I leave you alone with her whom I have
made your wife. As far as I can discover, there is no evil, although
much that is mysterious, in her. I exhort you to be sober, loving, and
faithful." So he went out; and the old people followed; crossing
themselves.

Undine was still on her knees; she uncovered her face and looked
timidly at Huldbrand, saying, "Ah, thou wilt surely cast me off now;
and yet I have done nothing wrong, poor, poor child that I am!" This
she said with so touching and gentle an expression, that her husband
forgot all the gloom and mystery that had chilled his heart; he
hastened toward, her and raised her in his arms. She smiled through
her tears - it was like the glow of dawn shining upon a clear fountain.
"Thou canst not forsake me!" whispered she, in accents of the firmest
reliance; and she stroked his cheeks with her soft little hands. He
tried to shake off the gloomy thoughts which still lurked in a corner
of his mind, suggesting to him that he had married a fairy, or some
shadowy being from the world of spirits: one question, however, he
could not help asking: "My dear little Undine, just tell me one thing:
what was that you said about spirits of earth, and Kühleborn, when the
Priest knocked at the door?" - "All nonsense!" said Undine, laughing,
with her usual gayety. "First I frightened you with it, and then you
frightened me. And that is the end of the story, and of our
wedding-day!"


VIII. - THE DAY AFTER THE MARRIAGE

A bright morning light wakened the young people; and Huldbrand lay
musing silently. As often as he had dropped asleep, he had been scared
by horrible dreams of spectres who suddenly took the form of fair
women, or of fair women who were transformed into dragons. And when he
started up from these grim visions, and saw the pale, cold moonlight
streaming in at the window, he would turn an anxious look toward
Undine; she lay slumbering in undisturbed beauty and peace. Then he
would compose himself to sleep again - soon again to wake in terror.
When he looked back upon all this in broad daylight, he was angry with
himself for having let a suspicion, a shade of distrust of his
beautiful wife, enter his mind. He frankly confessed to her this
injustice; she answered him only by pressing his hand, and sighing
from the bottom of her heart. But a look, such as her eyes had never
before given, of the deepest and most confiding tenderness, left him
no doubt that she forgave him. So he arose cheerfully, and joined the
family in the sitting-room. The three others were gathered round the
hearth looking uneasy, and neither of them having ventured to speak
his thoughts yet. The Priest seemed to be secretly praying for
deliverance from evil. But when the young husband appeared, beaming
with happiness, the care-worn faces brightened up; nay, the Fisherman
ventured upon a few courteous jokes with the Knight, which won a smile
even from the good housewife. Meanwhile Undine had dressed herself,
and now came in; they could not help rising to meet her, and stood
still, astonished; the young creature was the same, yet so different.
The Priest was the first to address her, with an air of paternal
kindness, and when he raised his hands in benediction, the fair woman
sank on her knees, trembling with pious awe. In a few meek and humble
words, she begged him to forgive the folly of the day before, and
besought him, with great emotion, to pray for the salvation of her
soul. Then rising, she kissed her foster parents, and thanking them
for all their kindness, she said: "Oh, now I feel from the bottom of
my heart how much you have done for me, how deeply grateful I ought to
be, dear, dear people!" She seemed as if she could not caress them
enough; but soon, observing the dame glance toward the breakfast, she
went toward the hearth, busied herself arranging and preparing the
meal, and would not suffer the good woman to take the least trouble
herself.

So she went on all day; at once a young matron, and a bashful, tender,
delicate bride. The three who knew her best were every moment
expecting this mood to change, and give place to one of her crazy
fits; but they watched in vain. There was still the same angelic
mildness and sweetness. The Priest could not keep his eyes away from
her, and he said more than once to the bridegroom, "Sir, it was a
great treasure which Heaven bestowed upon you yesterday, by my poor
ministration; cherish her worthily, and she will be to you a blessing
in time and eternity."

Toward evening, Undine clasped the Knight's arm with modest
tenderness, and gently led him out before the door, where the rays of
the setting sun were lighting up the fresh grass, and the tall, taper
stems of trees. The young wife's face wore a melting expression of
love and sadness, and her lips quivered with some anxious, momentous
secret, which as yet betrayed itself only by scarce audible sighs. She
silently led her companion onward; if he spoke, she replied by a look
which gave him no direct answer, but revealed a whole heaven of love
and timid submission. So they reached the banks of the stream which
had overflowed, and the Knight started on finding the wild torrent
changed into a gentle rippling brook, without a trace of its former
violence left. "By to-morrow it will have dried up completely," said
the bride, in a faltering voice, "and thou mayest begone whither thou
wilt." - "Not without thee, my Undine," said the Knight, playfully;
"consider, if I had a mind to forsake thee, the Church, the Emperor,
and his ministers might step in, and bring thy truant home." - "No, no,
you are free; it shall be as you please!" murmured Undine, half tears,
half smiles. "But I think thou wilt not cast me away; is not my heart
bound up in thine? Carry me over to that little island opposite. There
I will know my fate. I could indeed easily step through the little
waves; but I love to rest in thine arms! and thou _mayest_ cast me
off; this may be the last time." Huldbrand, full of anxious emotion,
knew not how to answer. He took her up in his arms, and carried her
over, now recollecting that from this very island he had borne her
home to the Fisherman, on the night of his arrival. When there, he
placed his fair burden on the turf, and was going to sit down beside
her; but she said, "No, sit there, opposite me - I will read my doom in
your eyes, before your lips have spoken it. Now listen, and I will
tell you all." And she began: -

"You must know, my own love, that in each element exists a race of
beings, whose form scarcely differs from yours, but who very seldom
appear to mortal sight. In the flames, the wondrous Salamanders
glitter and disport themselves; in the depths of earth dwell the dry,
spiteful race of Gnomes; the forests are peopled by Wood-nymphs, who
are also spirits of air; and the seas, the rivers and brooks contain
the numberless tribes of Water-sprites. Their echoing halls of
crystal, where the light of heaven pours in, with its sun and stars,
are glorious to dwell in; the gardens contain beautiful coral plants,
with blue and red fruits; they wander over bright sea-sands, and
gay-coloured shells, among the hidden treasures of the old world, too
precious to be bestowed on these latter days, and long since covered
by the silver mantle of the deep: many a noble monument still gleams
there below, bedewed by the tears of Ocean, who garlands it with
flowery sea-weeds and wreaths of shells. Those that dwell there below,
are noble and lovely to behold, far more so than mankind. Many a
fisherman has had a passing glimpse of some fair water-nymph, rising
out of the sea with her song; he would then spread the report of her
apparition, and these wonderful beings came to be called _Undines_.
And you now see before you, my love, an Undine."

The Knight tried to persuade himself that his fair wife was in one of
her wild moods, and had invented this strange tale in sport. But
though he said this to himself, he could not for a moment believe it;
a mysterious feeling thrilled him; and, unable to utter a word, he
kept his eyes rivetted on the beautiful speaker. She shook her head
sadly, heaved a deep sigh, and went on: -

"We might be happier than our human fellow-creatures (for we call you
fellow-creatures, as our forms are alike), but for one great evil. We,
and the other children of the elements, go down to the dust, body and
spirit; not a trace of us remains and when the time comes for you to
rise again to a glorified existence, we shall have perished with our
native sands, flames, winds, and waves. For we have no souls; the
elements move us, obey us while we live, close over us when we die;
and we light spirits live as free from care as the nightingale, the
gold-fish, and all such bright children of Nature. But no creatures
rest content in their appointed place. My father, who is a mighty
prince in the Mediterranean Sea, determined that his only child should
be endowed with a soul, even at the cost of much suffering, which is
ever the lot of souls. But a soul can be infused into one of our race,
only by being united in the closest bands of love to one of yours. And
now I have obtained a soul; to thee I owe it, O best beloved! and for
that gift I shall ever bless thee, unless thou dost devote my whole
futurity to misery. For what is to become of me should thou recoil
from me, and cast me off? Yet I would not detain thee by deceit. And
if I am to leave thee, say so now; go back to the land alone. I will
plunge into this brook; it is my uncle, who leads a wonderful,
sequestered life in this forest, away from all his friends. But he is
powerful, and allied to many great rivers; and as he brought me here
to the Fisherman, a gay and laughing child, so he is ready to take me
back to my parents, a loving, suffering, forsaken woman."

She would have gone on; but Huldbrand, full of compassion and love,
caught her in his arms, and carried her back. There, with tears and
kisses, he swore never to forsake his beloved wife; and said he felt
more blessed than the Greek sculptor Pygmalion, whose beautiful statue
dame Venus transformed into a living woman. Hanging on his arm in
peaceful reliance, Undine returned; and she felt from her inmost
heart, how little cause she had to regret the crystal palaces of her
father.


IX. - HOW THE KNIGHT AND HIS YOUNG BRIDE DEPARTED

When Huldbrand awoke from sleep the next morning, he missed his fair
companion; and again he was tormented with a doubt, whether his
marriage, and the lovely Undine, might not be all a fairy dream. But
she soon reappeared, came up to him, and said, "I have been out early,
to see if my uncle had kept his word. He has recalled all the straying
waters into his quiet bed, and now takes his lonely and pensive course
through the forest as he used to do. His friends in the lake and the
air are gone to rest also; all things have returned to their usual
calmness; and you may set out homeward on dry land, as soon as you
please." Huldbrand felt as if dreaming still, so little could he
understand his wife's wonderful relations. But he took no notice of
this, and his sweet Undine's gentle attentions soon charmed every
uneasy thought away.

A little while after, as they stood at the door together, looking over
the fair scene with its boundary of clear waters, his heart yearned so
toward this cradle of his love that he said: "But why should we go
away so soon? we shall never spend happier days in yonder world, than
we have passed in this peaceful nook. Let us at least see two or three
more suns go down here." - "As my Lord wishes," answered Undine, with
cheerful submission; "but, you see, the old people will be grieved at
parting with me, whenever it is; and if we give them time to become
acquainted with my soul, and with its new powers of loving and
honouring them, I fear that when I go, their aged hearts will break
under the load of sorrow. As yet, they take my gentle mood for a
passing whim, such as they saw me liable to formerly, like a calm on
the lake when the winds are lulled; and they will soon begin to love
some favourite tree or flower in my place. They must not learn to know
this newly obtained, affectionate heart, in the first overflowings of
its tenderness, just at the moment when they are to lose me for this
world; and how could I disguise it from them, if we remained together
longer?"

Huldbrand agreed with her; he went to the old couple and finding them
ready to consent, he resolved upon setting out that very hour. The
Priest offered to accompany them; after a hasty farewell, the pretty
bride was placed on the horse by her husband, and they crossed the
stream's dry bed quickly, and entered the forest. Undine shed silent
but bitter tears, while the old folks wailed after her aloud. It
seemed as if some foreboding were crossing their minds, of how great
their loss would prove.

The three travellers reached the deepest shades of the forest, without
breaking silence. It was a fair sight to behold, as they passed
through the leafy bowers: the graceful woman sitting on her noble
steed, guarded on one side by the venerable Priest in the white habit
of his order; on the other, by the youthful Knight, with his gorgeous
attire and glittering sword. Huldbrand had no eyes but for his
precious wife; Undine, who had dried her duteous tears, no thought but
for him; and they soon fell into a noiseless interchange of glances
and signs, which at length was interrupted by the sound of a low
murmur, proceeding from the Priest and a fourth fellow-traveller, who
had joined them unobserved. He wore a white robe, very like the
Priest's dress, except that the hood almost covered his face, and the
rest of it floated round him in such large folds that he was