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.